Han can hold his liquor pretty well; he's had enough to be pleasantly tipsy, but not much worse off. But the further they walk, the more sober he feels, troubled by how quiet she's being. It's beautiful out here; he can barely appreciate it until she stops, folding into a hollow between the tree roots.

Sitting there, her hand curled in his, he feels like that's the only tether holding them in place. She's pressed her back against the tree but he can't help thinking it seems like she's going to float away. Getting ready to cast him off, maybe. An hour ago everything seemed fine but now that feels all too possible.

He sinks to his knees, then sits beside her. Far too close, if she means to be rid of him, but that's who he is. He doesn't intend to be let off easy.

"Let's have it," he says softly, weary.