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[ Lune, perhaps fortunately, doesn't quite get to the heart of what Kimiko was on the cusp of. An anxiety skirting around the corners of her awareness, of seeing blond hair, blue eyes, stars and spangles, and—

It isn't fair. It's stupid. She needs to shut it off.

So, something simpler, but no less painful. ]

I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't... fuck someone else's husband. I didn't.

[ — and hoping, desperately, that Lune believes her. ]

[ Of course Lune believes her. She doesn’t have any reason not to. ]

There are worse things, even if you had, [ she points out. With the end of the world on the line, she’d had trouble bringing herself to care about social intrigue back home, the few times she’d overheard drama around the academy, some future expeditioner crying into his wine about a girlfriend straying —

(We’re all dead anyway, she’d thought at the time, too-dismissive.) ]

But I wish he had talked to you about it after. It sounds… frustrating.

[ She doesn’t have the exact flourish or fluency of sign to express this beyond ‘frustrating’, but she tries. ]

[ Kimiko appreciates the commiseration, although she isn't sure she agrees there are worse things. Why does it need to be a hierarchy? She doesn't want to be a homewrecker; that's the beginning and end of it.

It's helped to talk about it, but she's ready to move on from the conversation. ]

Thanks for listening.

[ For the next little while, the conversation drifts from topic to topic; Lune talks about her work, Kimiko listens easily, offering advice when she can (not terribly often) and support when she can't (much more frequently). When Lune finally rises and bids to head home, Kimiko sends her off with snacks. ]

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