Connor tries to pull his hand back, but Sophie's fingers suddenly tighten on his, keeping them there on John's stomach. Behind him, she may as well be a warm, snuggly wall, letting Connor curl into her in his rejection but not pull away entirely.

"Did Connor ever tell you that story? About me breaking his ribs?" Her voice is a calm lilt, a quiet contrast to John's panic and Connor's hurt. "It was in the beginning, and we were both gone a little mad with losing our natures. He picked a fight with me, because I was out looking for one. It wasn't until after I broke his ribs and he'd picked up something to beat me with that we realized it wasn't each other we wanted to hurt." She pauses. "I think we'd been living together awhile before either of us mentioned that particular word." As she speaks, she nuzzles Connor's cheek, pressing her lips to the corner of his downturned mouth.

"What I mean is that it isn't saying the word, or knowing for sure. I didn't even know what it really meant for the longest time. It's staying here," her hand presses gently on his stomach, pressing the warmth of Connor's palm into his skin, "to see."