The end of the memory is gradual, fading. Natasha finds herself still holding the fish. Love and friendship, he'd said. She wonders. Talia. It was close enough to her own to be familiar, different enough to be jarring. Looks up to him, or whatever passes for Souji in this dreamworld, fingers tracing the shape of fins in her hand.
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The end of the memory is gradual, fading. Natasha finds herself still holding the fish. Love and friendship, he'd said. She wonders. Talia. It was close enough to her own to be familiar, different enough to be jarring. Looks up to him, or whatever passes for Souji in this dreamworld, fingers tracing the shape of fins in her hand.
"Were you friends? You and Talia?"