[ She offers her body to him — not the first time, not the last — but her brother doesn't take it, doesn't even seem to stop and linger over the possibility. It should probably sting of something like rejection, but for Claret it speaks volumes (speaks to the nature of their love) that he choses a simpler intimacy instead. His hand in her lap, her hands in his hair — a comfort that no one, not even coveted Vermillion, could ever hope to provide him. A warm feeling fills the cage of her ribs and colors Claret smile as she looks down at him, that coveted lock of her hair slipping from her shoulder as if reaching for his hand in turn.

Claret shrugs. ]

I guess there are some universals in the mix. Y'know — stuff everybody wants. Or, close to everybody. Some folks— they just wanna watch the world burn. I dunno. But mot people— I think most people just don't wanna be alone.

—is that dumb?