[ Flynn is so glad for the solid presence of her, unhurt and whole. He takes a moment—a precious, terrifying moment, which feels indulgent and selfish and necessary—to just let himself breathe, and feel his own fingers and his muscles and his bones, and the shape of a trusted friend beside him.

A trusted friend who—

Goddess, Scifo. At least try. He lifts his head, guilty and reluctant. ]

Cecelia... after— I should have asked—

[ he swallows. This is not taking his time, but he has to know, now the thought has occurred to him, inexcusably late though it has. ]

How in the world did you get free? You must have, because... you're here.