[She doesn't flinch when his hands come to rest on her shoulders, doesn't pull away like she might have expected herself to. The last time she'd seen him, he'd grabbed her like this, too— it had been meant to comfort then, offer reassurance as they watched the Aerie crumble to nothing in front of them. She hadn't been sad to see it go, but she had been quietly devastated about the mark it had left on Emil.

Instead, she lifts a hand to rest over his against her shoulder, an undeniable display of affection even if she can't express it in words, and her hardened gaze softens just a little.]

Real as it gets. Well— depends on who you ask. According to the magic squirrels, we're all dreams.

[Tapirs, whatever. It's been two months now, or something like it. She'll respect them by using their actual name when they deserve it.]

I don't buy that, because I sure as hell feel like myself. You're obviously real, too.

[Rough edges and all, it's undeniably him. Her already faint smile falters— it's been difficult, trying to resign herself to believing that the Nier she'd met in this place was some other version whose memories she didn't share, but this one...

This is how she remembers him. This is the same man who'd convinced her to get up off her ass and keep fighting for something, to keep going when she'd been prepared to lay down and die.]

I'm sure if you were dreaming, you'd be able to dream up something better than this. I'm piss-poor company.