"Then there's no other choice. The world ending is the worst possible— it's the worst, evilest thing that could ever happen. And it will happen. So if I try now, and I ruin everything, it's as ruined as it was always going to be. And if I stop it, that's— that's the best thing anybody could ever do, in the history of everything, and nobody can do it but me. It doesn't matter how tiny the chance is. But I— I don't feel like it's that tiny of a chance?" You swing the Crown back and forth. "Maybe I'm just thinking positive. The point is, um, you can't stop me. I'm really sorry."

"Charging unstoppably into danger. You are your father's daughter." He smiles: still sad, less mad. "Or not. He wasn't much of a hero, Charlie. His selflessness extended to you and little else— certainly not the entire world. He didn't have much good to say about the entire world. You've far surpassed him there."

"Oh," you say.

"And you've grown into an extraordinarily brave young woman. I'm glad I had a chance to witness that, no matter how limited our time was. And I'm sorry if I came on too strong for much of it. If I had known you didn't remember—"

"It's okay. I didn't tell you." You glance down. "It was embarrassing."

"Kiddo, you did absolutely nothing wrong. If you were anything like you were when I knew you, you were sweet and honest and your aunt wouldn't let you out of the damn house. And your father refused to clue you in on anything. You had no reason to expect to be targeted, and you didn't deserve what was done." Henry sighs. "If you do kill the messenger, make it gruesome, will you?"

"I will." You don't know whether you're lying. "...Thanks for everything. I'm going to try my best."

"I know you will. If you don't, I suppose we'll never find out." Henry's grin exposes his fangs. "Shake on it?"

He offers his hand, and you shake it firmly— then, on impulse, lean in and squeeze him. He laughs, surprised, and pats you on the back. "You're a good kid."

"Wow. And I don't get one of those?"

Oh. Claudia's still here. You pull away. "You want a hug from me?"

She scowls, dangling The Sword by her side. "I didn't say that. I just think it's weird how you're going around, being all ooshy-gooshy, and you— hey! Get off!"

You have lunged and hugged her too, for completeness' sake: she's as cold and squishy as Gil, and also squirmy, and The Sword pokes into your knee, but she's gone all red when you retract. "You're so weird," she mumbles. Victory.

"C.R, why don't you give her back her sword? She might need that."

"Oh." Claudia lifts The Sword and bites her lip. When you reach to take it from her, she resists.

"Do you like it?" you say.

"It's cool. But it's yours, or whatever, even though you're not going to need it, so—"

"Do you want it?"

Claudia goes dead silent. Her fingers twitch. "Well, if you do need it—"

(2/4)