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[skitter]

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[skitter]

"Not ready," she says tersely. "Still feels like Weaver's breathing down the back of my neck."

It's a reason, but not the reason she specifically doesn't want to go into this with Rags.

[littleonewhosteals]

Rags lets out a breath. "You're never going to be ready to talk about shit you don't want to talk about."

[skitter]

"Maybe not," she agrees, staring at the kettle. "Do you need me to talk about it?"

[littleonewhosteals]

If that's what it takes.

"Yeah. I don't know. Maybe I do."

[skitter]

Fuck. She should have known he'd call that bluff. She drags a hand down her face, dislodging a moth from near her ear.

"Everyone who came into my domain was someone I know. Who I brought there."

[littleonewhosteals]

"Yeah," he agrees. "Why is that?"

[skitter]

"To keep you safe." The last word twists in her mouth, stings to even say.

[littleonewhosteals]

"I - what would make me safe?" he asks. "Or any of your people? What does safe mean to you?"

[skitter]

"If I actually knew, I don't think I'd be here," she mutters, pushing away from the counter. But there's not enough room in the kitchen to pace, not with two people in there.

[littleonewhosteals]

"Yeah, but that's not what we have to worry about. Right now? What is safe?" he wonders, pushing the issue as he takes the pancake off the heat.