When she cups his cheek, he leans in and kisses her lips, the sort of kisses that have become easy, that make a chain, one into the next.

“Every part. But aye, I’d rather we lived in the same room, or the same house.”

Maybe he’s just said too much, but it doesn’t occur to him.

“Maybe we should find out if there’s a way we can live together. Not everyone lives in a god’s house.” None of the people darting around, he means, the people who have always been here.