Alex puts down her things, and even that feels like some kind of victory. A step forward, maybe, out of the darkness of their argument, a turning towards some sort of rapport. Maybe it wouldn't be the same as what they'd had, or what they might have had in time, but anything would be better than this. He dares to hope--and then her sleeve pulls up, revealing smudges of ink he'd never expected to see again.

"They're back," he says, trying so, so hard to keep his voice as neutral as he can.