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This is Rosita. I'll hit you back when I can.

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Yeah. Lost time, she thinks, running her thumb over the palm of the gloves before she moves to pull them on. They've all lost a lot of time, trying to get more.

"Yours is next week?"

"June 6th," he says, not expecting anything from it because nothing has ever come from it before. "We're zodiac twins, Ro. Meant to fight the world together."

It's a nice thought and it makes her smile.

Just that it's an idea that hurts right now, in a few different ways.

"I always thought that. About Gemini," she admits. "That it feels wrong to be a lone twin."

"Me, too," he says, very softly. He's always been so aware of the fact his sign meant he had to have dual sides. "I'll be your twin, Rosita."

She breathes out and is dismayed to hear the faint shiver in it.

"Yeah?" she asks instead, and like the shiver, there's a faint ray of hope too.

"You know what that kind of thing means to me?"

"No," he confesses, but he can see it. He recognizes it so easily.

"But I know what it does to me." How senseless it makes him. How badly he wants someone on his side.

"Well."

Rosita Espinosa, you are damn near perfection.

It feels like letting him hold the gun in her hands on her but then, there are people you can sometimes live to tell the tale afterwards when they do. Sometimes, they're covering your blindside, if you let them.

"How can I say no to that?"

He grins at her. He knows this is not an easy thing for her, even if he does not--and will never--know how far that goes.

"Happy birthday, Rosita. I'm glad you're with me."

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, but she's smiling.

"With the face," she admonishes, breaking off half the cupcake, offering it out to him.

He takes it because he'll always take offered food. "What face? This is just my face." His face, happy he's made her happy.

"You know exactly what face," she insists. "I refuse to believe you don't know."

She remembers the first time he turned it on Alexandria; not her specifically, but Rick Grimes representing the community worth of strength. There was definitely a moment where he leaned into it.

"I'm learning the sword too, you know. Not Japanese or Chinese."

He gives her a skeptical look, though there's something playful underneath it. "Who's teaching you?"

"Right now?"

Shut up.

"Me. But I'm considering others. Why, who's teaching you?"

"I'm a black belt, I'm in the position to teach other people." And he's grinning. "Can I teach you?"

He would very much love that.

"And I'm a black belt in surviving," she returns, then pulls a face when she remembers that actually she's not.

It's fine. She did great right up until she didn't.

"But yes."

It's not the end for you,, he wants to say, but doesn't. Instead he focuses on her agreement, instead he grins.

"This is going to be great. What kind of sword do you want to start with? Rapier? Katana, like Michonne's?"