There was still so much to tell him. So much that needed to be said in order to loosen the band that felt as if it tightened around her ribs in those quiet, lonely moments she was not otherwise distracted. She could not feel his arms around her and not want to spill all that she held back from him in the strange world of the Nexus, but the comfort of his touch, the warm rasp of his fingertips against her skin, the press of his kiss to her hair allowed her space enough to breathe.

She would need to tell him, she of him that much. She would simply tell him later, after, once they had had their fun in that park.

Even bold and curious, her heart clenched in warning at being press back into the strange, cradling seat, the strap and bars levied into place to secure her in her seat. "d'Artagnan," she began in warning, only for the ride to start with a startling sites of clanking noises and they were dragged forward.

The memory of those flushed faced, thrilled children having echoed before them kept her from feeling as trapped as she might have, or at least as panicked as they were drawn up that first high slope. Perhaps she silently questioned d'Artagnan's parentage when they hung at the top of what seemed an impossible tracked cliff, her knuckles white with the strength of her grip on the bar holding her against the seat. Perhaps, but the right of it was lost to a scream as they plunged forward, the sound curving from terror to enthusiasm along with the ride.