The night was gloomy.
On the dimly lit path of the Base, the streetlights elongated the passing shadows of people, stretching them long and far.
Becca Reyes's upper body was almost entirely leaning on Flossie Wright, hopping along on one foot.
The other foot truly couldn't move.
Even placing it on the ground would intensify the severe pain.
Becca suddenly felt that even the last time she was stabbed, it wasn't this bad.
The two didn't talk.
It wasn't until halfway, when Becca was drenched in sweat from fatigue, that she came to a firm stop.
"Flossie."
She tilted her head to look at Flossie at her side.
In those shimmering large eyes, for the first time, was filled with genuine bewilderment.
Flossie stopped, slightly tilting her head to meet Becca's gaze.
"Do you think I should go?"
Her voice was slow and low, as Becca lowered her eyelids, and the clear depths of her eyes suddenly darkened.
Turning around, Flossie faced her directly.
"You should."
