Lyndon Street Station, 2 p.m.

"It's been a long time, Ruca."
She smiled up at him, a look that said all was forgiven,
or at least forgotten for now.
"I had a dream about you last night," she said. "I wasn't
sure if you'd heard. I didn't know if you'd come."
"I heard," he said.
"Yes, you did."
Grey eyes met green eyes. He had always been captivated by those eyes,
such a cool, clear shade, like water over rocks; you could drown in those eyes.
They astonished him, they had taken him in from the start. There was
something feral, something phenomenal, otherworldly, about her eyes. They
had a look to them that spoke of things mortals couldn't quite comprehend,
weighty knowledge, things that would wear away souls. They took in the light,
they were full of shadows.
He smiled at her, little more than an uplifting of the corners of his mouth,
but it chased some of the darkness from her eyes.
"I'm glad you came, Daniel," she said.
"Me, too. It's been a long time, Ruca."