[ It would be easy to close that space between them, small as it is. She could just lean back and let herself have more than just the comfort of the warm water. He's right there. But she leans forward instead, as if to make room for him — or to make it easier to collect all that wild hair, which seems to fill up more of the tub than either of their bodies do. ]

Like they give a damn what either of us has to say. We're not being sent on dangerous solo missions because they value our opinions. [ There's a faint thread of bitterness — but she can't really complain, can she? She chose this. Knowingly. Because staying at his side had mattered more than living a safe and easy life. ] We just have to stay alive to spite them. At least until one of us ends up taking their place.

[ Him, probably. Not her. He always cared more than she did. ]