a/n: Hope and Quincy have a very simple dinner.

No editing, we die like Ma-non.

Monolithsoft, to whom all good things belong, I'm begging you, please port X before I become completely useless.

Hope was back in under 30 minutes. It was much later than she thought. The barracks mess was closed but there were a variety of grab and go meals stacked in the metallic wells of the salad station. These were the equivalent of MREs, but tasty and homey, available for anyone coming in late from a mission or suddenly called onto duty. The tables were sparsely populated, although she waved to a few people she knew. She knew a lot of people in NLA. She could have joined this batch, a group of Interceptors freshly back from one of their endless beach clearing missions. Instead she grabbed two box lunches and headed for the door. She paused before leaving, and after a moment's hesitation, she turned to the vending machines and bought two silver wrapped treats from a dispenser wreathed in a mist of golden glitter.

Her own door slipped open quietly and Hope moved even more soundlessly. It wasn't quiet enough. "Hey."

"I didn't mean to wake you," Hope said. Without the need for stealth, she bustled over to her desk, wondering if there was any point in clearing a space for the food.

"Don't worry," Quincy replied. She could hear him sitting up, shoving the covers to free himself. "I think I've been waking up every five minutes on my own."

"Brace yourself," she said cheerfully. From her comm device, she turned the lights up by two settings, still low but no longer dim.

She took a quick breath, just a count to four and release. She was prepared, she wouldn't be bothered, she'd be just fine. It was all a little silly. She'd teamed with dozens of BLADEs that preferred to wear nothing but tattoos and a scouter. She turned around, her smile at its brightest.

He'd put a shirt on while she was gone.

Hope stared. Quincy quirked a smile at her, then started to look worried. He tugged at the collar of the simple garment, smoothing it a little at the shoulders. "I was so proud that I managed it all by myself," he offered. "Shouldn't I have?"

Hope shook herself internally and considered. "I can't say," she answered truthfully. "In an emergency situation, you could probably fight by now. But you really need to get the most complete charge possible," she finished. Honestly, she had every reason to be concerned after Quincy's dramatic collapse earlier today.

Quincy sighed. "I gotta tell you: feeling this useless sucks big time. I'm nothing but a lump."

"You are healing," emphasized Hope.

"Still feels bad, being this useless. Empty battery, empty brain, empty everything. Never mind. You shouldn't have to hear me complaining."

"I don't mind. It's actually useful, having you be honest. Maybe we can learn from it and help someone else in the future. Besides, I brought you something to fight part of that emptiness." She reached behind her and grabbed the take-out boxes, waving them as a demonstration. "Dinner."

They settled in to eat. Quincy lifted things curiously, watching Hope for hints on what to do. She took the time to name things, with quick descriptions. "Peanut butter sandwich. A little sweet but it was the easiest choice. I didn't want to risk hot soup."

Quincy studied the triangle (the sandwich was cut in triangles because the mess hall could be fancy like that). "Not sure if I remember how to chew. I mean, I knew English literature but failed at shirts. Where does eating fall?"

"Try it." Hope watched intently. Quincy took a small, neat bite, and chewed carefully, slowly at first, then with increased confidence. He swallowed. There was a pause.

"Did I do it right?"

Hope stopped staring at Quincy's mouth. "You did fine! No crumbs at all."

Dinner was nice. By the end they were both relaxed. Better than relaxed: Hope was feeling genuinely happy. Quincy seemed thrilled that he could remember puns, so Hope shared some absolutely awful ones. It was fascinating how it worked. Quincy had to examine the sentence at the surface level, identifying which words were doubling their meaning for humor. He was enjoying that part quite enough in itself, testing the edges of what Pelias had left in his brain. But then the meanings would combine and he would get the joke. In the moment before he cracked a smile, his eyes went from curious to intent. Watching the process of realization on his face gave Hope a happy little thrill. It was a good look on him.

Laughing with him felt pretty good too.

She got another chance to laugh when he tried the extra non-regulation treat. Ma-non ice cream cones, shelf-stable frozen creamy goodness. Their silver packaging was thinner than mylar, but once unwrapped they were as cold as anything from the depths of an ice cream truck freezer.

"Huh. It burns," Quincy said after the first bite. Hope had warned him, but he was still surprised.

"You don't have to bite it, if it's too cold. You can lick it. See?" Hope demonstrated. Quincy was watching with something like confusion. "Don't you like it?" Hope tried to remember if they had ever gotten ice cream together. Maybe he didn't care for ice cream?

Quincy shuddered, a quick full body shiver, hard enough to feel through the mattress.

"Oh no, you need to rest more," said Hope.

"No, no, just chilly or something. Licking, got it." His tongue darted out, testing the ice cream, flicking neatly. He looked over at Hope. "Like that?"

"Yes?" Hope said uncertainly. "I mean, yes. You're doing great."

They didn't talk for a bit after that. Both were too focused on their own cones. It wouldn't do to drip ice cream on the bed, obviously. Total concentration required.

a/n: My brain is 85% Tears of the Kingdom at this point, but I still have space for these two babies.

Next up: Bedtime, and let me remind you it is still JUST ONE BED.