She trails next to him on the way home, Luna in appearance, quiet, letting the silence breed between them. He's promised her; there's no need to drag it out of him. If it were her, she'd likely be doing the same thing, sorting through the spin of her thoughts. Let him have the time and speak when he's ready.

She re-emerges as herself as they enter the apartment, and he shuts the door behind him. Still quiet, she gives him the space to form his words, settling onto the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her.

She waits. And listens.