[he's not blaming her. he's not judging her. he's not like any of those angry, accusing faces that the gas had made her see: the ones she's still so convinced were real. the weight of that relief nearly knocks her over, and she manages to walk up and put her hands on his shoulders and make it look like a gesture of tenderness instead of an effort to stay upright.]
... Thank you, Echo. I ... don't want to waste it.
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... Thank you, Echo. I ... don't want to waste it.
[she leans in to kiss him, gently]