The hallway was quiet. Everyone else was presumably still sleeping off their own exhausting nights. Morning light came through the window at the far end, soft and unremarkable, very normal for a Sunday at the academy.
Emi stood against the wall hugging her hoodie to her chest, not wearing it yet, her hair a disaster, her cheeks still visibly warm.
Skylar leaned against the opposite wall and looked at her.
"Hi," Emi said.
"Hi."
A beat of silence.
"Are you," Emi started, stopped, pressed her lips together. "Are you okay?"
Skylar blinked. Of all the opening moves. She looked down at herself, at the basketball shorts rolled three times at the waist, at Satori's black t-shirt hanging past her hips, and felt the soreness radiating from approximately every part of her body.
"Sore," she said.
Emi made a sound that was half laugh and half something more complicated. She pulled the hoodie on, zipped it to her chin, and hugged herself. Her antennae drooped. "Me too."
They stood there.
