"I don't," she says, and whether that's entirely true or not she's not sure, but Blue feels torn open and discombobulated right now, like she's been swept overboard into an ocean full of debris. "Not really. I just hate that you know what it feels like."

She holds her cup in both hands and takes a long breath, nodding and looking hard at the reflective surface of the tea and the slight sediment of tea leaves that always escapes any filter, no matter how small. What sort of truths could someone read in her tea now?

Blue leans into Biffy's side, all at once, eyes filling despite herself. She's incredibly grateful for him being here. And for knowing exactly the sort of things she does want to do, or might, more than she does she thinks. "Thank you for -- everything," she says, sounding very little and miserable even to herself, and she laughs a little at the idea of having to drown out punching something. "How are you doing, with the whole fatherhood thing?"

If his preparedness for emotional disasters is any evidence, Blue thinks it must be going pretty well.