He smiled, and walked past her. She could feel him there, her power telling her that he was there. She could sense the totality of him, proportions, like how he’d put on muscle but lost weight, to the point he was rangy. She knew he worked the jobs where people got extra servings, because they needed the extra servings, but he ate like someone on rations. That he was tired, in part as a consequence of diet, in part because he worked harder than many of the other people out there.

She knew, through the dull sense of his physicality that her power provided, that the smile and proximity to her went along with the faintest of good feelings flushing through his body.

She wasn’t sure how to interpret that, except that most of her male family members didn’t do that. It kind of disappointed her, and she had no idea if she was being unfair, or if she’d be more hurt if he didn’t feel anything at all.

He went straight to the tech stuff she’d grabbed, lifting up the bag to peer inside. Because of course the tinker would be curious about that. She leaned against the doorframe, still trying to quiet the anxieties that had leaped into her chest, and studied Rain as he studied the tech.

His nose had been broken once and hadn’t healed quite right, and with the light shining in through the holes where the windows had been now open to the elements and letting the chill wind through, she could see spots on his face where there were faint lines. The faintest of scars. He hadn’t cut his hair in the last few weeks, and she kind of liked it better like this. Medium length, instead of being so short that nothing could be done with it.

She walked past him, then stopped at the end of the desk, just a couple feet to Rain’s left. She leaned on it, arms folded and resting on the desk, fully aware she was giving Rain a good view of her cleavage. He noticed, and she felt the rush run through him. There were no details, there was no nuance, only broad strokes painted through his body in shifts in heartbeat, blood flow, blood distribution, and hormones. Like the hit of a drug, running through him.

She felt physically good, getting that reaction, but her thoughts were mired in disappointment.

Or… she felt cold, lonely, just a little bit skeeved out that it was that easy, on a purely physical, reactionary level, at the same time her thoughts were warm, happy that she’d made his day a bit better, because she did like him.

It was never both at once.

Should be neither.

“How is it?” she asked, waiting a beat before pointing at the bag.

“Good,” he said. “Do you want me to carry it?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “There’s no rush, Rain. We could hang out.”

“We’re hanging out all day,” he said.