[ They know each other so clearly, sometimes it's hard to remember how much of their pasts are still shrouded to each other. There are ghosts here from the old world, a whole life Max lived. And her too, still wrapped tightly, brutal days she's not sure if she wants to recount or forget.

Maybe one day they'll know them. Maybe they won't. ]

Okay.

[ She curls her hands, both flesh and metal around one of his, pulling his knuckles to her lips. She's never been traditional by anyone's standards. Even the Vuvalini might raise a few eyebrows picking a man for his companionship rather than his utility.

The concept is older than the Old World, older than the words used to describe them, things that got twisted and perverted into ownership, rather than what she truly wishes which is to know always where she belongs. ]

Don't care what we call them, as long as I can call you mine. Stay at my side until we're dust. Give me that, Max. [ She coaxes his palm open, pressing her lips to the center of it, holding it against her face. ] But don't hold back on me because you think you don't deserve it.