They stay like that, for a while.

Their fingers tangle together, and they stay like that, too. For a while.

It's a measurement of time that means Ilde doesn't really know, and it can just be like that, stillness and something that isn't warmth and almost something that makes sense, as opposed to everything else so far. 'You trust me too much', he says, well, that's true. Funny now, though, watching him frown down at her, smoking his cigarette, acting like somebody who gives a fuck. Who else is she supposed to trust?

And she doesn't, anyway.