She didn’t retort, and it was my instinct that I’d hear her retort. That wasn’t based on her, not on the time we’d spent together at the hospital, where we’d kept each other company, communicated, shared a computer and tried to keep each other sane. It was based on what I’d want to do. She’d been pressing me, attacking, aggressive. Were it my old self, without the two-year long reality check, I wouldn’t have been able to just stop after being on that verbal offensive. I would have pressed.

She didn’t.

“Since the hospital,” I said, for elaboration.

“Moves on its own? Does it make you move?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“But it fits your body.”

“Not anymore,” I said. “Not this body.”

I didn’t elaborate, because I didn’t have it in me. I waited, let her put it together. I saw her expression change, and I focused instead on Advance Guard against Hollow Point down below.

We were higher up than a ten story building would be.

“Sorry,” I said. “Having this conversation with you when you can’t storm off or walk away.”

“Don’t drop me,” she said.

I nodded, stiff.

She shifted her grip, extending an arm to reach for my shoulder. Her prosthetic foot tapped against mine, then her toe settled on top of it. I held my foot rigid while she pushed herself up a bit, pulling on my shoulders until she’d raised up.

It took some doing, and it took me realizing and helping her a bit, but she found a position where she could wrap her arms around me in a hug.

My eyes remained on the scene below as I hugged her back with one hand. My other hand still held the phone against my chest, and Sveta’s hard chest pressed hard against the back of my hand. It hurt and I didn’t make her stop.

I wanted to hug tight, but the pain reminded me it didn’t matter, because it was only her shell.

“Thank you,” I said, instead. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Idiot, moron. Tell me.”

“I haven’t even told Mrs. Yamada.”

“Lamebrain. You don’t think I one hundred percent get it? You don’t think this stuff makes sense to me? More than anything or everything else?”

“Maybe I didn’t want it to be got,” I said.

She moved her head, knocking it against mine. She did it again.

It made me think of the hospital. Of a time shortly before she’d left with Weld. A couple of weeks before, maybe. Physiotherapy, working on my manual dexterity, they’d given us video games and controls we could use. Sveta had done a lot of it, and picked up more of it for the social aspect, so she’d joined me to egg me on.