[ It's nice to hear him laugh, and to see him relax a little, and when he calls her a friend she feels a little blooming warmth in her chest, shy and pleased.

She's never had many friends. It's been forever since she's stayed in any place long enough to make some, and she's never really wanted to. But she finds herself wanting to be his friend, to at least try, a whole lot.

He goes to find a can of fruit, and she shifts off the counter to head to the table, bringing her jacket with her. There's something heavy in the pocket that thunks against the back of the chair she slings it over; when she retrieves it, it turns out to be a flask of the terrible pine moonshine she and March had made.

She sets it on the table – who knows, they might need it – and pulls out the chair to take a seat. ]

Sorry for the jumpscare. It's not really like that anymore, when I'm from. I mean, it is, sometimes, when people want to just keep shit to themselves, and there are still assholes out there who'll give people a hard time about it, but it's not weird or anything.

[ She smiles at him, crooked and a little shy, all her edges for the moment tucked away. ]

I like being your friend. And since we are friends...

[ That slyness is back in the way she waggles her eyebrows at him. ]

...what do you like? May as well think about it here. What the hell else are we gonna do, aside from be cold and bored?