She visibly relaxes, exhaling in one long stream of breath. "Okay," she says, her smile tentative. When does the other foot fall and squash her? "Okay, thanks. That's all I got."

She doesn't point out how kind he's being, how he's changed his mind; she doesn't ask when she's going back to her personal dungeon or if he wants to go again. The thoughts cloud her mind like a swarm of bees, and she ignores them lest she get stung. She looks into his eyes and, smiling, wishes he gave a single shit whether she lived or died.