The quiet as Steve moved around his room was easy to her in the way that quiet rarely was. Though she joked that he was a blond pretty boy like Arthur, with more muscles than sense, she found herself thinking about him more like she thought about Guinevere back home. The quiet readiness, the willingness to be a comfort, the sly, dry humour that could be poked out of him but wasn't always obvious to people who didn't know him.

Even the way he walked, though if you put them side by side their stride would surely differ, reminded her of Gwen just the same. She sat, automatically going to smooth her skirts under her and only finding the rough linen of her jumpsuit. Morgana felt stiff and straight even against the relative comfort of the sofa, which was surely nicer than her bed and yet she sat almost as if she were sitting on nails as she looked to Steve and listened to the soothing timbre of his voice.

Twisting her hands in her lap, she shrugged.

'Bit of this... bit of that.' she began, wondering where she was supposed to really start with any of it. How was she supposed to twist all her feelings into simply explainable sentences without letting them overcome her? Perhaps the only thing Arthur wasn't wrong about when he tormented and dismissed her was the fact she was too emotional and Alpha Complex was no place for that.

'I.' she began again, only to pause so she could take a deep breath. 'Do you remember when I spoke of home, I must have told you about my dreams I used to have?' that was an easier topic to begin on than some new girl basically accused me of lying and not existing all at once. Admittedly, this topic was closer to treason than the latter, but what was a little treason between friends?

'I think they're coming back.'