Quietly, Alexa sits against Ramses, swishes the liquid in her wineglass, and wonders at it all.

A day ago, she was having her teeth kicked in by some of these same people. Look, there they are--what'd Ramses call them? Murvle and Teck-Joe?--playing a game of bluffs over in the corner. She couldn't put names to more than maybe four others, and that only because she's been doing her best to catch names as they're spoken. None of them have fought at her side.  Most or all of them know who she was. And worst of all, if they took it into their mind to hurt the people around her, she could do nothing. She can't protect herself! Can't protect those around her! Every nerve should be singing with fear, with anxiety, with tension!

And yet…

Somehow, the fact that she could not do anything is, itself, a calming thought. She's defenseless, no match for any of the Coherents. Has the blessing of no gods--not ones worth a damn, not ones she could count on to listen--and… She isn't the warrior she was. Doesn't have to stress about strategy, or concern herself with conspiracies. 

Because what can she do, but lean back and let it happen? 

She listens to the stories. Of bosses, who demand too much, pay too little. Of the excuses given. Of dirty jokes, told around campfires and passed around like precious gold. Of dreams, of change, of wanting to be more.

She doesn't know any of them. And yet, she's known them all her life. Has heard these stories dozens of times before, from dozens of others. 

Alexa leans further back against Ramses, listens to the faint pulse of their heartbeat, and feels safe.

Do all the humans feel like this? Are they all straining against the limits of what they are, of what their hearts tell them they could be? Do the Coherents merely collect those who feel this way--the misfits, the weirdoes, the freaks? Or is it, just maybe, that she's not so different from them?

Maybe it's alright to want other things?

Carefully, she sips the wine. Feels it in her mouth, passes it from one side of her mouth to the other. Wonders what wine tastes like, and grins to herself because it's happening! She's gonna find out, in just a few minutes!

She drains the wineglass, and makes to stand up.

But before she goes, she turns to Ramses. Opens her mouth, can't quite meet their eyes. What even do you say? Words don't seem quite right--like there's so much to say, but anything she can say would be both too much and not enough.

She argues with herself briefly, and wins.

Words aren't enough. But she gives Ramses the biggest, hardest four-armed bear-hug she can manage. Puts all the words of gratitude, of acceptance, of happiness she can't say into that squeeze. Gives Ramses a quick, chaste peck on the cheek, and darts behind the curtain before her brain can catch up and start screaming.