"Yeah, you're pretty nice yourself," Mira says, lacing her fingers into Genevieve's and letting herself be tugged, laughing and catching up.

"I'm not exactly a hundred percent sober," she admits. The air is cool as they get outside, the breeze crisp on bare skin; next to her Genevieve seems warmer for it and she turns around in front of her, smiling. "Pretty sure we can find some things we agree on."