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011. The Definition Of Okay

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"No!"

Rosaleen raises an eyebrow; all three of us said that, a little too loud and a little too fast.

"Earlier," she says, "you guys all kept saying 'Mr' then correcting yourselves with 'Magnate Leto.' And then, you guys introduced this new Black Swan leader person, someone named Mr. Forkle."

Suddenly, we hear talking in Elwin's office. One look through his clear window lets us know that Magnate Leto's here.

I look at Keefe, who looks at Sophie, who's on the verge of panicking.

"Foster." Sophie looks at him, and I realize her breaths are coming a little quicker than usual. "Foster, hey, it's—" Keefe reaches out and takes her hand, and she takes in a fast shallow breath, then another, and another, until they're slowing down.

"It's okay," he says, in this calm, assuring voice.

It's surprising. When Keefe Sencen's around Her, his walls crumble to nothing. She holds his heart in her hands, and sometimes that's more dangerous than anything.

"It's okay," he repeats. "We'll be okay." Keefe looks up, at Rosaleen. "Please, don't tell anyone, Rosaleen. This is really—important information, and—"

"If it's so important, you guys should learn to think before you speak." Rosaleen bites the inside of her cheek. "I'm sorry if that sounded mean, but anyone could've figured it out."

"Anyone could've figured what out?"

We all kind of jump; Magnate Leto, or Mr. Forkle as Rosaleen now knows, stands at the door, watching us with a faintly curious look in his eye.

Rosaleen's eyes flick to me, and she's spinning her bracelet around and around and around her wrist again. She stays silent.

Oh. Of course. He's one of the leaders of some rebellious group she barely knows about. Of course she's scared.

I want to tell her "hey, he's nice enough, and I'm sure he'll be more impressed than mad about you figuring him out" but we don't know each other well enough for me to do something like that.

We're not like Keefe and Sophie.

Keefe lets out this noise that sounds like both a sigh and an embarrassed laugh. "So, uh, Forklenator, we kinda screwed up."

Magnate Leto tenses, looking at Rosaleen who shrinks back from his gaze. He looks at Keefe again, searching for an explanation. "Well. You kids sure did," is all he says.

"She knows," I say, my words rushed. "Your identity, I mean. But—we didn't tell her, she figured it out. And—And we want her to come with me on the mission. Keefe knows her and he said she's trustworthy. And she's smart. And I think we can work well together."

"Are you done?" Magnate Leto's looking at us, but I can't read his expression. Keefe and Sophie seem cautious, too, and Rosaleen looks really, really intimidated.

"Um—yeah."

"Okay." He lets out this huge sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay." He opens his eyes. "Dex, we were going to get someone to come with you, actually, but we couldn't find the right person."

Oh. I guess that makes sense. Because Sophie's not the "right person."

He studies Rosaleen. "You're sure you want to go with her?" he says to me.

I swallow. Now that he says it like that, I don't know. I don't want her to get hurt because of me, but it seems like she has her own reasons. "I don't know," I say. "Rosaleen, are you sure you want to go on the mission?"

She looks uncomfortable suddenly being in the spotlight, but she nods. "Um—yeah. It's... It's personal. The, uh, the Neverseen did some stuff to my family before. So—I want to go. To see if there's anything... I can find out."

Vague, but as Keefe said: when she's ready, she'll tell us. I look at Magnate Leto, and thankfully, it doesn't seem like he's going to ask any questions.

"Fair enough. But you can't be reckless, and later, I'd like to ask a few questions. Nothing intrusive, of course, but an expert Empath and I can check to see if you have any ulterior motives."

Rosaleen nods. "Okay," she says.

And that's it.

Magnate Leto tells her "it was nice to meet you" and where and when to meet up, then there's more talk about the plan.

But bottom line is, Rosaleen's in.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When we finally walk out of the Healing Center, it's awkward at first; we're both not sure what to say. But then I blurt out, "Are you okay?"

See, there's several things wrong with this question.

Really, I can make a whole Powerpoint about it and present it to the triplets, who'll probably disagree with me for the sake of disagreeing with me (but they'll silently agree).

But the point is, that's not the right question. If she's not okay, what can she say? "No"? No, she can't (okay, she can, and it's amazing if she's open about it, but I don't think she would) because that's awkward, and no one actually—

"Not really."

Oh.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I glance at her, but she's not looking at me, so I turn my attention back to the hallway.

"Um... I'd rather not," she says. "I mean—like, don't worry. In the long run, I'm okay, obviously. I have centuries more to live. Time heals all wounds, right?"

"Yeah, but centuries is, like—a long time. A very, very long time."

She laughs. It's a little melancholy, but it's genuine and it's like ambrosia. "Okay, not centuries. I'm just a little worried about the 'mission,' is all, and I really, really..." She stops, as if she's not sure if she should finish. But then, a whisper—"really miss her."

I focus on the tiles, as I think over her words. If I look at her, there's no doubt it'll just... get weird, and heavy. Eye contact is scary like that.

And I don't want to ask for details, because... I don't think she's ready to talk about whoever "her" is.

"The definition of 'okay,'" I finally say, "is satisfactory but not exceptionally or especially good."

She "pfft"s, and her voice is lighter when she speaks again. "I mean... then I guess I'm okay. I'm not doing bad, but, you know, at the very moment, it's a little... not amazing. How about you? Are you satisfactory but not exceptionally or especially good?"

I laugh. "Yes, Rosaleen. I'm okay." I hum. She's opened up with me, and it's weird when she's being vulnerable, and I'm not.

But I'm starting to learn that she, Rosaleen Ellis, always wears her heart on her sleeve. Not only when she's telling stories. It's always there, if I seek it. But I still can't tell if that's a weakness or strength of hers—maybe it's both.

"Missions are just stressful," I finally say. "I wouldn't say you get used to it, but who knows? Maybe one day adrenaline is gonna be like..." I don't know how to explain it beautifully, that's not my talent. So I just say, "Maybe one day it'll be cool."

"You have a way with words," she teases, and I grin.

"I know."

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

lambo i dont know what that was but can we all collectively pretend it was a not-cringy-at-all piece of writing that had bootiful metaphors and prose? 🤠

anyway hdbdhsn, this chapter is dedicated to darkglossedsugar for coming back to read this edited version, and commenting! i rlly appreciate it <3