[ it's a strange feeling to now have this quiet and intensely personal truth in the air between them — that nikolai lantsov had fallen in love once. that his heart has been broken. it isn't something he'll ever forget, but it was also something he never intended to share. he cried back then but he doesn't now, steadily lifting his eyes and drawing his thumb over her knuckles while she caresses his cheek. ]

Am I easy to believe in or is everyone else just much crazier than I am? [ it's a joke with the tiniest string of uncertainty attached, like everything he's done will come unraveled if anyone decides to pull. if only he could design a grand invention that manufactured courage, because he finds his reservoir despairingly low some days, even if he makes a point to never show it.

his mind lingers on her words, and maybe this whole conversation has made him insecure — perish the thought — but he saves her from giving into her own temptation by leaning in closer himself, close enough to smell whatever sweet scent was slipped into her bath. some sort of flower. then he looks down at their hands, weighing his next words even while he forces the tension out of his jaw. ]

Does Mal do that for you? Make you feel brave? [ there's no ire, no jealousy in his tone. just simple curiosity. it makes little sense to pretend that mal doesn't exist in her world when he's been the one with her all these years. he flashes a crooked smile. ] I already know I have that effect on people, which is why I didn't ask about myself.