The world is - strange, [ Abby murmurs. It's something his uncle used to say. He thinks his father said it too, but that memory is fuzzy. All the edges sanded off, the color warped. It might not be real. Maybe he dreamt it up. But this -

This is real, with Jenny in his arms and these words out in the air. This is real and there is consequence to the things they say. ]

I can - mhmm. Heal. [ He waves his hand absently, eyes down. The beads on his bracelets click - knucklebone, and glass. ] If you got hurt, I could -

[ Do something. Maybe. ]

Or make things. I made her. She wasn't - she just wanted some more time, you know?