“I think this time I’m more inclined to agree with you,” she spoke up from where she’d been watching him. Not spying! Or maybe just a little. Lucy still hadn’t come to terms with being here with him, but at least she was coping. Going with the flow—dealing with it. In her own way.

She pushed forward, arms folded over her chest. They would talk, eventually. It all depended on when they were both ready. Still, distance was kept; she wouldn’t need to be right at his side to see the slight injury he’d given himself.

Some hesitation. “You alright?”

Desmond was stubborn, she knew. He had a hard head just like his father. A few rocks giving him a nice goose egg wouldn’t be such a bad thing, or affect him much.