"I believe you," she whispers, her gaze continuing to roam over his face. She knows herself, all too well, that a thread of denial can run deeper than anyone wants to admit to themselves, but she doesn't get the sense that this is what's at play here. He seems so intent on it that this can't be attached to a deeper thing. Can it?

"Nightmares, or just a place you'd rather not be?" she asks, curling her fingertips around the outside of his hand.

"I've been there. There have been moments where I hear something, and it's enough to take me right back to the city - or a dream that feels so real right before I wake up."