Want is such a strange thing, she thinks; alone it doesn't mean anything at all. But without it, nothing else can mean anything either. Not like this.

It's a spark off a flint, something that goes nowhere and dies immediately without anything of substance to catch on to grow into a proper fire - but without it, everything else is just a stack of wood and lint, is only what it always was. So tiny, so negligible, but so vital.

She huffs a sound that isn't quite a laugh at the realization, wry and self-deprecating; she has never wanted to live a life completely devoid of passion. It was how she justified a lot of her early decisions, her early mistakes. And now it's... whatever this is.

"You were there," she tries to explain. "After the pit. I needed someone then, someone - exactly like we said." That she didn't know, that might hurt her and she could hurt back and they could just go on their way after. "And the next time you... weren't an option."

He was part of it, and she was half out of her mind, barely herself at all. Feral and rabid and willing to make others bleed for the mistake of being close enough for her to do it.

"But since... yeah."