Pocket stands taut, posture rigid, but only for a moment more. Her brows knit up and she sighs, and when she does the whole cave seems to exhale with her. "Oh, Audrey. Guys," she says, a little watery, and pulls her glasses off her face to scrub the tears from her one good eye. This close, it's much easier to see, this is an old, old scar, long healed now, but no less devastating to the partybug's features.

She sits. Just abruptly plops to the ground, legs crossed, and maybe it's an invitation to talk. Like sharing gossip at a sleepover. "I like? I wish...I wish I could," she says as she wipes her eye with the heel of her hand. "I thought that you could. But I was wrong and I won't be wrong again. You lovely things are so fragile, even when you are just, like, saplings. You're made to bend, but this breaks you. You break, and you break, and you shatter. I've seen it. And I—I can't let any of you hurt yourselves, again."

Pocket looks up, meeting Audrey's gaze. "My dreamer, just being you, just surviving, that's enough. But I promise, helping you all is what I love. It's my job."