“Titch?” York says gently, reaching for her, but his hand falls away when he reads her body language. Pulling her legs up, she rests her chin on top of them, wrapping her arms around herself in comfort. Dax’s nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath at the rejection and York shifts uncomfortably, swiping a shaking hand through his hair. It may seem like nothing to a stranger, but the Pen we know would have reached for one of us instead. She’s cutting herself off, and I realise then what path she’s choosing. That hurts. It motherfucking hurts.
