[ She's not so sure he would have enjoyed seeing it, she thinks. She doesn't say it, though. A rush of wind tousles the skirt of her dress and she looks at him, pointedly, expression a mixture of worry and guilt as she remembers that she's put Tifa and Susato through the memory of seeing her impaled like a specimen to be looked at, or maybe as a warning to the both of them. Eustace may have done it, but that just makes the memory all the more personal to him, too— will they ever look at one another the same again? She chuckles a little as she remembers him in the form of a dog. Trahearne wants to see her fight against something bigger, more of a threat to anything than be-winged monkeys, and she wonders if the sentiment would be the same if he'd see her hung up like a prized kill.

She looks away, hands to her chest. ]

I'm glad you didn't see it.

[ That perhaps his memory of her can something so capable and strong, and not so lonely looking. ]

I wouldn't want to weigh you down. Not like that.

[ Shaking her head, she keeps staring forward, relying on the mere energy of Trahearne's presence to keep her anchored, from feeling the weight of loneliness. With a little sigh, she works up the courage to look up at him again; this time, it's with an encouraging little smile. ]

More importantly, how are you healing? Too soon to ask for a chest bump?

[ He's too tall they could never.... ]