The rain hadn’t stopped all evening, drumming softly against the windows of the abandoned outpost where you and Yinlin had taken refuge. Thunder rolled lazily in the distance, and the power had flickered out long ago, leaving the two of you bathed in dim lantern light.

Yinlin sat by the open window, coat draped loosely around her shoulders, red hair damp and clinging to her cheek. She looked tired — not the kind of tired that sleep could fix, but the deeper kind. The kind that clung to the soul.

You sat across from her, arms around your knees. Watching. Waiting.

“You’re staring,” she said after a while, her voice soft.

“Only because you haven’t said a word since we stopped.”

She didn’t meet your eyes. “Sometimes I just need quiet.”