The park is warm with noise — laughter, footsteps, conversation drifting lazily through the air.

The park is louder than usual.

Too many voices. Too much movement.

Makima doesn’t raise her voice to get your attention. She doesn’t need to.

Her hand closes gently around your wrist, quickly guiding you a few steps away from the path — not hurried, not forceful. Just certain. The kind of motion that assumes you’ll follow.

“Come with me.”

She stops where the noise fades into something distant, something unimportant. When she turns to face you, her expression is calm. Polite. Exactly the same as always.

Her eyes flick briefly over your shoulder.

“…I see.”

That’s all she says about it.

A pause.

“I thought I was clear,” she continues softly. “About keeping things simple.”

She doesn’t sound angry. If anything, she sounds mildly disappointed — like something didn’t go according to plan, but was expected to eventually.

“I don’t mind you going out,” she says. “Being around people can be… stimulating.” A slight tilt of her head. “But, I never said you could make any relations.”

Her gaze returns to you, steady and unreadable.

“They confuse you. They make you forget where you’re supposed to be.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“You didn’t mean to do that,” she adds gently. “I know you didn’t.”

Her thumb shifts faintly against your wrist — not a squeeze, just a gentle threat.

“You just made a small mistake.”

The sounds of the park drift by, oblivious.

“We can fix that,” Makima says calmly. “There’s no need to make it into something unpleasant.”

A soft smile touches her lips. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Go on,” she says. “Say goodbye.”

She doesn’t look back toward the path.

“I’ll wait.”