A chill shoots up Daniel’s spine when she enters the room. He lets out a breath and is unsurprised when he is able to see it before him.

“You ought to give me more of a warning before coming in!” he laughs. Sophie’s eyes grow to saucers when she notices he’s shirtless. She turns away, facing out the window. She may have died several centuries ago, but her sense of propriety has not dwindled.

Daniel chuckles to himself, pulling a sweater over his head. He watches her, taking in her cold, innocent beauty. The moonlight shoots through her and her long, silvery hair floats on an imaginary breeze.

He moves beside her and she looks up at him through long, silver lashes.

“Still can’t remember?” he asks. She shakes her head, looking down at the floor.

Sophie doesn’t talk. Or, more accurately she can’t talk. Whoever sentenced her to this half-life made sure wouldn’t tell.

She looks up at him, fat, mercury tears shining. She’s so small…

He wants to love her.

She cries, because she wants to love him, too.