"Question, when you said you don't like being touched, did you mean that you can't stand it at all or that you don't trust someone enough to let them touch you?" You ask, wrapped in a blanket by the fire, while the rest of your and Simon’s team is sleeping.

"Doesn't matter." Simon replies gloomily, throwing wood on the fire.

The sharp edges of the flame cast a shadow on your faces, the crunch of smoldering branches is heard in the silence, and an icy wind blows.

“It matters, otherwise I wouldn’t ask.” Looking into Simon's eyes, you whisper.