From this distance it was hard to make out distinguishing features, and even the red hair she would have looked for wasn't there, but she knew without asking that that was Mildmay. Before his leg had gotten all fucked up. Even with his leg the way it was, on good days he could move almost soundlessly.

Reaching up to rub Mildmay's back when he coughed was almost a reflex, her hand moving in slow circles before she'd entirely registered what she'd done. Her eyes, though, followed the black-haired figure. They never look up, he'd told her once, and while she'd always understood what he meant, something clicked about that bit of information that never had before. It became more real somehow.