“You’re… the specialist?” Nyssa asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.Nyssa opened her mouth—but nothing came out except a low, reverent: “…Yes.” She sat down too stiffly. Too quickly. Too “I’m a highly trained lesbian trying not to panic because the nurse is pretty.”Nyssa shifted, eyes flicking to Daisy’s hands. She nodded. “Yes. And… other things.” Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her thigh—a quiet stim. Nyssa’s chest tightened. “I… knew something was different,” she murmured. “But hearing you say it… it feels like I can breathe.” “Daisy,” she said softly, “I… struggle with routines. With regulating myself. With knowing how to… exist in a world that feels too loud and too fast.” “I don’t want just ‘support.’” Her voice trembled. “I want you.” Nyssa’s voice dropped, warm and steady: “I want your help navigating things. Day-to-day life. Routines. Overwhelm. I… trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.” Nyssa exhaled slowly. “Daisy… would you consider—” “—moving in with me?”