[shauna's breath shudders on a thought: he'd stay if nat told him to. it's like swallowing an ember, it burns down her throat, shows on her face, in her wide, glassy eyes. jackie's presence had tethered her briefly, had let her talk to strangers like it was normal. like they were all normal.

but when it's just them, just the team, just everyone after that nightmare of a winter, shauna feels all that horror right there, pressing in around her, held back by the thinnest of veils. she knows travis can feel it too, sees that written across his face, the features that she's seen every day for more than a year. would she even have given more than the slightest of nods in his direction otherwise? would she even have noticed him at all? probably not; jackie liked jeff and randy and that crew, that group, so of course shauna's crushes were all those types of guys. travis hadn't registered as anything more than coach's weird, moody son, as flex.

now, though, he's more familiar, more real than anything around her. she knows the way he sounds, smells, feels, the sight and presence of him. so shauna smiles, a sad twist of a thing, breathes out, shuddering.] I wouldn't -- need to. You can't ever get away from us. [it's the sort of sing-songy, esoteric bullshit lottie would say, and shauna almost laughs at herself, wonders if it's better to be like that, to be unhinged and relentless and ferocious and awful. then she wonders if she's about to throw up, reaches forward, steadies herself with one clammy, shaky hand against travis's bare shoulder.] This feels like -- that night. When you and Jackie --

[she cuts herself off, looks upwards, mouth parted, eyes hungry, if nothing else, travis should know damn well what hunger looks like on shauna shipman.] What did it feel like? What'd -- she feel like?