{se} hold the line, your breath, my hand

evie The kind of flawless I wish I could be It's certainly rhetorical, not that that stops her from snorting a half-laugh anyway. There is a quiet flame of comfort that sits in her breast at knowing that despite everything, they are still them. No matter how dim, quiet, or overlooked in favor of more pressing matters; they are still them. Humor, teasing, overworking and all. Even his wrinkled nose and the digging in of his heels are familiar. Smiling slightly despite his insistence and the vague notion of encroaching threats because of it, Evie tilts her head toward the Citadel gates not far from them. "The Shields know where we are, and Micah is home if anyone comes to the door and can lead them to us. If anyone has immediate need of us, we'll know." Stepping into his space, Evie takes Deimos' hand but does not try to guide him closer to the moss and greenery just yet. "We built a dependable system of command. We can lean on it for enough time to sleep - even if it's only just long enough to get our strength back." So they can continue serving Halo admittedly, and it certainly won't be much more than a power nap, but Evie suspects it's the only middle ground they'll both agree to.