Rachel stays leaning back, arms crossed, but she relaxes minutely. Long enough to look at him, really look. Because sitting across from her at the same table, having a conversation about life and each other and a trip they want to take, is a very real, very human, very teenage boy.
"You've been a hawk for three years," she says finally, quietly, and as gentle as Rachel is capable of being. She knows it's hard for him, she knows it hurts, and she doesn't even want to think about what it would do to her to lose her own morphing ability.
But she can reach over the table and take his hand.
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Rachel stays leaning back, arms crossed, but she relaxes minutely. Long enough to look at him, really look. Because sitting across from her at the same table, having a conversation about life and each other and a trip they want to take, is a very real, very human, very teenage boy.
"You've been a hawk for three years," she says finally, quietly, and as gentle as Rachel is capable of being. She knows it's hard for him, she knows it hurts, and she doesn't even want to think about what it would do to her to lose her own morphing ability.
But she can reach over the table and take his hand.
"This is different... but it's simpler, too."