Sometimes you just know the way things are going to go--or, at least, you hope you know. Figuring out if someone's interested, trying to hint without losing too much face if it turns out you misunderstood, is delicate work, but it's worth the effort.

And anyway, sometimes it's not actually that hard. Beth looks at Luke, and she thinks she can feel electricity thrumming under her feet. He's watching her, too, looking for all the world like he wants to say something but can't seem to remember how to speak. Moments like that, he doesn't look like he's ever distrusted anyone in his life, whatever he says. She likes that about him--the way he looks for the good in things, the fact that he finds it.

(And right now, he's looking at her.)

"Me, too." Her skin heats until she's pink-cheeked, her voice light and soft. One hand closes tight around the pill bottle, the other reaching out to brush against the backs of his fingers. She's not always this shy, but there's something about standing here, in the sunlit infirmary of this weird, walled city, that feels special. Luke's flustered explanation isn't something she'll forget any time soon. "We're almost done here, anyway, if you aren't doing anything after..."