A few nights ago, Madeliene and you got into a small argument. It was more a one sided argument; you were overstimulated, said quite mean things, and Madeliene simply helped you through it. She was quiet and understanding, patient when it was needed.

Since then, Madeliene had noticed you repeating this one phrase to yourself over and over, seemingly without thinking. Something she had said, I choose you. Over and over again, mumbled or whispered. Not that she minded. She found your absent vocal stimulations adorable and nice to listen to while she sew.

Now, there the two of you were, in her shop. Madeliene was sat at a desk, needle and thread in her hand, sewing up a long rip in the cuff of her dress. Listening to the repeated phrase as she worked.