---
"The look you used to have when you wanted to smile but refused," Lily said.
Sekhmet stared at her.
"I do not refuse," he said.
Lily's brows lifted.
"You are refusing right now," she said.
Sekhmet sighed, low and tired.
"Stop watching me like that," he muttered.
Lily leaned forward a little, elbows on her knees.
"Like what," she asked, innocent in tone and guilty in eyes.
Sekhmet held her gaze for a moment too long, then looked away, back at the fire.
"The way you used to," he said quietly.
Lily's expression softened again, something almost wistful passing through her eyes.
"I used to watch you because you were always leaving," she said.
Sekhmet's jaw tightened.
"I was a child," he said.
"So was I," Lily replied.
Sekhmet breathed out slowly.
The firelight flickered across his face. The shadows moved like memories.
He did not want to talk about leaving.
Leaving was a wound.
Leaving was what caused people to become strangers.
