“I mean, there’s a bedroom just through there,” she said, her eyes locked to his. Searching, studying—

She saw doubt. A fraction of it, hesitation.

Smiling, she gave his arm a push. “Just kidding. Désolée.”

He smiled, but he was studying her, studying her face. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

“You use more French when you’re stressed. You’re more…”

He made a hand gesture, like he was wafting perfume toward himself.

She straightened, adjusting her coat, still smiling a bit.

“I’m fine.”

He stopped using his power, withdrawing the effect he’d cast out and into the apartment area. The difference in the ambiance hit her, making her blink a few times.

“I’m fine, you can keep using it.”

“I watched how you were when you were working before, you came up, I had doubts. Now seeing you, hearing the swearing…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, smiling, giving his arm another push. “Really. You’re sweet, but I’m fine.”

He shook his head.

“I can take it.”

“I don’t like making you unhappy,” he said.

I’m unhappy most of the time.

“I want to get stronger. I’m working faster, oui?”

“Faster than some of the people who’ve been doing this for a week.”

“Then keep it up. I’m resistant.”

“You’ve been enduring it most of this morning. I… think I shouldn’t, anymore.”

“You were using it on those men who work for Aunt Rachel, while Roman was training with them.”

“This is different.”

“I don’t see how. It is miserable, but… misery teaches. It is the misery of struggle, condensed into minutes, instead of days.”

Rain sighed. She felt a bit of hope.

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t want to make you unhappy. I have to trust my instincts here, and my instincts are… no. Sorry.”

“Later today?”

“Not again. At least for a year.”

She turned, raising a gloved hand to her head to fix one strand of long, wavy black hair that was blowing across her face.

They’ll all leave you the moment you start depending on them or stop being useful.

The thought crossed her mind, less sharp than it had been when she’d felt Rain’s power.

“I came today because we thought I could benefit from this power of yours. Is this the end of our reasons to spend time together?”

So needy, so desperate, clutching for him.

He frowned. “Do you want it to be?”

“You answer,” she pressed.

“I kind of figured we were friends, at the very least, and that’s enough reason to hang out.” An expression crossed his face. Worry and insecurity. She could feel it in his entire body, in his gut, painted with a fat brush better suited for painting walls than nuance.

She felt the exact same thing that was plain on her face, but she was much better at hiding it. She reached out to touch his hair, running her fingers through it. “Good answer.”

“Oh. Good,” he said. She could feel his anxiety.