“Yeah.” It takes him a second to catch on; he spends another asking himself how she knows to do that. Lowers his eyes as he pictures her running her fingers through the man's hair. Softer: “Yeah.”

He rests his chin in his hand, fingers tapping restlessly along his jaw. Watching the doubled image, the profusion of color swimming through the crystals. “Who is he?” he asks after a while, the note of hope in his voice sharper than he'd have expected.