The heavy silence following Julian's acceptance was abruptly shattered by a loud, deliberate clearing of a throat.
"Ahem."
Fey was leaning back in her chair, her tools down, a look of dry amusement plastered on her face. "Well. That was… efficient. I suppose in the middle of cataloging the apocalypse, why not update your relationship status? 'Single' to 'Complicit in the warlord's harem.' Checks out."
Beatrix's cheeks, which had been pale, flushed a deep red. But she didn't back down. She turned to Fey, her analytical gaze sharpening, though it couldn't fully hide her fluster. "It's not inefficient. It's a logical allocation of emotional and survival resources. In a world being systematically dismantled, connection isn't a luxury. It's a strategic necessity. It… it gives a framework to existence beyond mere survival." She crossed her arms, looking away slightly. "It makes life mean something. More than just… data points and decay rates."
