she should be more nervous than she was, maybe she should follow the rules that people who lived in the appalachia mountains did, after dark close the blinds, if you heard your name, you didn’t, if you heard a noise ignore it. but if she was honest, she was too curious for that, she would’ve heard her name and answered back, the same way she saw kane outside and let him in. "quiet is nice at times, but i feel like my head gets too loud when i’m alone for too long," she chuckled, "i like mixing alone time with group time… i don’t know," she laughed at herself for not making much sense. as he explained how he was alone, how he couldn’t really consider anyone a friend most of the time, she sighed, her eyebrows furrowing slightly with concern. "i’m sorry you feel alone," she said softly, "but i guess you can count a friend and a half," she added, looking up at him, her light eyes meeting his. after all, he was there late at night talking to her, that’s what friends did, right? she let out a small breath. "i’m guessing you’re a night owl, after our last encounter and this one," she chuckled, trying to keep the conversation flowing before silence settled in. she took a sip from her glass, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "have you been in town long? i don’t think i’ve ever seen you around," she asked softly, "i think i would remember your face."
Kane listened to her quietly, his gaze steady but unreadable, like he was taking in more than just her words. At her ramble about quiet and noise, there was the faintest shift in his expression, something almost understanding. “Too much quiet can turn inwards on you,” he said lowly. “Starts sounding like something else if you sit in it long enough.” His voice was calm, but there was something underneath it, like he knew that feeling a little too well. When she offered herself as a half-friend his eyes lingered on hers for a moment longer than necessary. Not surprised, not amused, just considering. Then, a quiet exhale left him, almost like a ghost of a laugh. “A friend and a half,” he repeated softly. “That’s more than I usually get.” There was no gratitude in it, not exactly. But he didn’t dismiss it either. At her guess, though, a faint smirk touched the corner of his mouth, subtle, fleeting. “You could say that,” he murmured. “Night’s quieter. Fewer people asking questions they don’t want answers to.” A pause. “I’ve always preferred it.” And it didn’t sound like a recent habit. When she asked how long he’d been around, his gaze drifted slightly, not away from her, but past her, like he was looking through something rather than at it. The silence stretched just a second too long before he answered. “Long enough,” he said simply. His eyes returned to hers then, steady again, but there was something more closed off now. Deliberate. “I’ve been around here years,” he added after a beat, voice still even, but offering nothing more than that. No details. At her comment about remembering his face, though, that earned a different reaction. Kane tilted his head slightly, studying her now. “I don’t tend to be memorable,” he said quietly. A pause. “People see what they expect to see. They forget the rest.” There was no bitterness in it. No pride either. Just fact. And then, just as subtly, he shifted the focus away from himself again. His eyes lingered on her a moment. “You’re not like that,” he added, voice lower now, more certain. “Kind, even when you don’t have to be.” His gaze flicked briefly to her hair, the faintest hint of something thoughtful crossing his expression. “And the pink helps. Hard to miss.” Another small pause, quieter this time. “You stand out,” he finished, almost like it was an observation he hadn’t meant to say out loud. “For the right reasons. You’ve got this, presence, for lack of a better word.” He paused, like he was choosing the word carefully, or maybe resisting saying it at all. “Light.”














