[hr][hr]In the dream, Safie sat with Quinn at the back of the boat, their legs dangling in the water while Dahlia and her father chatted idly at the bow. She told her how proud she was, or would be, if Quinn became a pilot; it was hard to tell even in the moment whether she was speaking prospectively or of some nebulous present. The idea of working together was exciting, and Safie was absolutely certain that Quinn would [i]love[/i] Tohoki Grill. She described dishes so vividly Quinn could taste them on her tongue, and a chef who sounded so familiar she could hear his jovial voice wishing her well. 

It was a warm afternoon. The sun was silver upon the waves. Eventually Safie pointed out to the forested shore, where a great white deer rested. Its antlers were tall and branching, and trickles of blood leaked from they sprouted on its skull. It seemed to know they were looking, and bowed its head. 

“[color=green]See?[/color]” she said, smiling bright. “[color=green]Even the stag believes. You’re meant for greatness, never let anyone convince you otherwise.[/color]”

And before that warmth could turn to confusion, Quinn woke up. 

[hr][hr]
The haze of her dream faded, only a pleasant comfort lingered. There was a weight beside her on the bed, and fingers brushing through her hair. As the bleariness of sleep cleared, Quinn could see Besca sitting next to her. 

“[color=gray]Hey, hun.[/color]” Her voice was soft, her smile gentle. “[color=gray]About an hour ‘til the interview, time to get ready. I brought you some new clothes—tried to pick stuff I thought you might like. Just for tonight, in case you don’t like’em. Next time I’ll bring you shopping and you can pick out the stuff yourself, promise.[/color]”

She nodded to the end of the bed. Laid out there was a simple pair of pants, a solid black shirt, and a steel-gray jacket with a pair of golden stripes angled across the back. 

“[color=gray]Go ahead and get dressed—I’ll be right outside.[/color]”

Besca left the door cracked on her way out, but a feeling lingered within Quinn like she wasn’t alone. Even once she was well and properly awake, it stubbornly refused to leave. It came to her not like a chill down the spine, but rather, like a hand on the shoulder. 

Ready or not, she had herself.