Oh my gods, Lazar, you can’t just— Don’t fucking jinx it.

[ A queasiness in her stomach. Astrid sets down the rest of her bread, unfinished; she hadn’t realised how allergic she was to In Case I Die instructions until just this moment, that favour settling over her shoulders like an itchy wool mantle. ]

But aye, yeah, I can do that. […] Didn’t know you and Bastien were, like, a thing.