You sat on the roof of the Opera Epiclese, knees drawn to your chest as you watched the sun sink beneath the horizon. You felt a familiar presence behind you, and wiped your tears from your face, glancing over your shoulder. Furina settled beside you, legs dangling from the roof. She gently took one of your hands in hers, smooth satin of her gloves brushing over your skin.

“Mon petit chou, I know what it feels like not to be alright. Talk to me?”