[wanda wishes she could laugh at that, at the fact that she reminds nero of his brother, in turn. she takes a deep breath instead, and tries to breathe out calmly. when she has—unintentionally—poked into his thoughts, she would see remnants of this credo; a stoic man, of the military sort, but with kind eyes. he plainly cared for nero.]

I don't always give you shit.

[it's easy, now, at least, with him here. it's not awkward, it's not... weird.

her magic starts working away at stitching the fabric and threads of the mattress of nero's bed, and soon enough it is remade, sitting flat on the floor. wanda, too, sits on it. you'll have to carry it up the loft, nero! she tugs at the sleeves at her wrists.]

Do you ever... think, that if you had had the powers that you do now, that maybe you could have... saved him? [because nero is stronger, if the memory is anything to go by. her gaze moves upwards to him.] What is it, anyway? Your power?