Martin watched as Auvrea walked over to Basilic, and then crouch by him, talking quietly and then kissing his forehead. He'd seen her change. He'd been clutching her t-shirt whilst it happened. She was an angel. He knew Basilic felt bad about it. He'd figured that out. And as she was an angel again, he knew it was her duty to reassure him. It didn't stop him feeling slightly resentful. He wanted to be with her again, to be able to talk freely, not just watch her as she helped others. He needed help. To get her back.
She walked back to her seat beside him, and as she sat, he looked at her, trying to convey his needs to her without speech. Knowing it was useless, he looked away, and then, without meaning to, whipped his head around and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. Getting embarrassed, he just said, "I love you Auvrea. I really do," and then turned back to the window, looking out at the purple and orange sunset, waiting for her reaction.