"What do you think it was? A dream?" Lavender looks over to Cho who's in the middle of refuelling the old BMW. They're alone in the night, in the middle of nowhere on a cheap highway gas station and Cho curses when some of the gasoline drips down on her four hundred dollar Louboutin sneakers.

Lavender snorts and bites in the Snickers she bought for the way.

"Not a dream," Cho finally grunts and pushes the pump back in the bracket where it squeaks lonely against the wind. "Dreams are for people that are awake."

She curls her tongue around the last word, carefully to pronounce it with a certain kind of finality.

"You make no sense."

"Mens numquam dormitat."

"Now you make even less sense." Exasperated Lavender throws the brown paper of her Snickers in the bin, her skin a strange shade of green from the fake halogen lights of the gas station. Cho doesn't bother to turn around; her laugh is high and sharp, like flinders. Lavender bristles.

"It means my mind never sleeps." Closing the filler cap, she breathes the scent of old petrol and rubber - it's not just the gas station, it clings to Lavender too.

"If you don't sleep, what do you do?"

"My mind has the scary capability of being dark and twisted. I see people in colours. Blue, Red - Luna, Parvati. You."

"If Luna is Blue, and Parvati is Red, what colour is mine?"

Cho throws a glance over her leather-clad shoulder, just enough for Lavender to see the arch of a fine, straight nose and the peaks of sharp, flashing teeth.

"I dream of you in colours that don't exist yet."

Lavender's heart skips a beat.