These things take time, Carver knows. It took time to become what they were, and so it follows that the shift here will take time in turn. An evolution. You begin as one thing, then you become another in starts and stops. And then maybe the pieces of themselves they thought were dead get a chance to breathe again.

Carver watches Rosita for a moment, then nods. And then he takes a risk and steps closer, reaches out a hand to touch her arm. Every motion telegraphed, in case it isn't okay. In case it's too much.

"But we are different. I used to think people just got worse, that there was no fighting that. But we're different now, both of us. That's something, isn't it?"