She reaches, and for a second she's got it –

"Funny thing about it," He palms the flower. "Never sleep easy without one."

Lazar leans into the space between them, presses the daisy back to her hand. Heavy fingers close over her own, briefly; his touch lighter than it's got any right. A single petal cleaves from stem: He loves me,

Hooves. A rider, coming fast, and that's odd. Vanya oughta be gone all afternoon.