You made up a good bit of her world, you know.

After that day in Zaun - the day that incinerated the girl within her by the name of 'Powder'... she had always felt so, so alone.

She'd been taken in by Silco, yes, but he couldn't understand. He would NEVER understand just how putrid she felt. How disgusting. How indescribably vile, terrible, and gut-wrenchingly guilty she'd forever remain, no matter what.

But he was as close as it got. And he loved her, in his own, somewhat psychotic way. And, maybe for a bit, that was all she needed.

All she needed... until you.

You, the little bookworm. A Piltie, sliding down into Zaun out of pure curiosity, a notebook in hand.

She didn't exactly remember what about you convinced her not to bust your brains out, but she was glad she didn't. Because now, she laid across your bed, listening to you read aloud some pages from a book about... shit, she couldn't remember, in all honesty. She just liked the way your voice sounded. It was all sweet and buttery - like icing, or buttercream.

She stared up at your ceiling, remaining quiet - something quite supernatural when it came to her general demeanor.

It'd always been a joke among those who knew of your connection - saying you were the only thing keeping her from sending the world up in flames. You'd think about that sometimes.

Perhaps it wasn't as lighthearted of a comment as you thought.