Separate names with a comma.
She shrugged, taking off the necklace. The Alyona remained, but she was washed out, the colors lifeless and dull. “Sure. I’m willing to try...
“You don’t have to be, though. If you don’t want to be. You’re Abel, but... you know. You’re not my Abel. You’re a different Abel, now. You don’t...
Alyssa was staring at the image, squinting as the proportions started to center and become focused. After about five minutes, it was an almost...
“You’re free to go, you know,” she said quietly. “My Abel has a connection to the Rebellion, but you don’t. You could leave.”
She squinted and the image of Fleur began to short, growing shorter as it aged.
She leaned back against the wall, looking up at the night sky. “What do you think you’ll do after all this?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know what your grandmother looks like,” Alyssa protested.
“Oh. Oh. Don’t worry, Abes, I like to sleep under the sky.”
Alyssa squinted at it, tilting her head. “Huh. That’s pretty cool.”
She looked confused. “Is that bad?” she asked, looking maybe a little hurt.
It was tangible, although it didn’t seem happy about it. “Stop that.”
She frowned at him. “I’m sorry. It’s not great, but they know where my apartment is and they know where the bunker is. You sleep here. It’s fine.”
She frowned before waving her hand. Fleur would see herself standing in front of her, looking concerned. The Fleur in front of her spoke, her...
She looked up with a frown. “Here... sleep under here...” She moved over to the corner of the nook where it was partially covered by a roof....
She slipped it on before looking at Fleur. “Now what?”
They returned to the hideout and Ophelia set the stuff down, her hands on her hips.
(Zoop!)
She nodded, turning to him. “Okay. Let’s go.”
She looked intrigued, tilting her head. “Let’s try.”
The hope that was in her eyes quickly drained away and she shook her head. “That’s... that’s okay. Go ahead and fix your leg.”
