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The heavy talk kept the happiness off Pendour's face, but there wasn't really sorrow there, either. Her eyes stayed soft, and went softer when he tried to explain himself. Her hold on him, on the other hand, was firm unless he tried to pull away. That was a pattern with her, it seemed. Her softness was not quite as pronounced when it came to embraces.

"It's okay," she said, the slightest of smiles creeping back. "I'm not going to judge your actions. I know it's a war and things can be extreme. You're a kind person and I trust you to do what you think is right. If I ponder things, it's because I'm trying to decide what actions I should take, and only that."

The talk of mental health in textbook terms rather than implications seemed heavier still. Maybe it was because it was coming from a man who was tied up in war, but still always seemed to have smile, or a witty comeback, who had been a few times now the unflinching shoulder that she cried on. Deeper down, it made sense. She understood not wanting to share pain.

"And I'm really not going to judge you for that," she said, giving a deep nod on top of her words. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I'm sorry you've been having to deal with it."

She let the embrace go so that she could step forwards and look him in the eyes a little better. "But it's not something to be ashamed of, either. I'm sure it's something a lot of people in this city are living with." Like her, even. She took a deep breath, surprised that the words were sticking in her throat. She tried being open, but that didn't make the hard things easy to admit. It just made them important.

"For me, the loss has hit harder than the trauma, so far. The depression, body image. It took months of therapy before I could go to the grocery store." She swallowed after she spoke, even though that was only the surface of it.

He was still talking about training, and that was what finally made her brow crease. She shook her head. "I don't know." She paused, then. "Maybe?" The first aid sounded better until he mentioned actively fighting back, at which her brows knit deeper. "Um, either would be okay," she said slowly, "I just have to be careful. I don't want to become part of a war machine."

Her dodge could use some work, though, and that wasn't something that could hurt anyone.

Even with a relatively good support system, it was still not everyday that Sadie found someone who was so understanding and supportive without diving down to the level of pity. She finally found a smile, then, although it was small and far from bright. "Yeah," she said, quiet but sincere. "Thank you," and she left it at that.

Her gaze turned to the bags of food heavy on her arm, and that made her smile, too. "Well, here's a silver lining for you," she said. "Maybe we do have enough heartbreak to test out the magic of these sandwiches." Her voice went lighter but not all the way to joking. She was thinking, musing, maybe, but it was deeply true that these space picnics were when she felt the most alive.

She was also thinking of his offer of training, which was more serious, still. That got a moment of long, fidgety silence, as all such questions did. If he did fight, even within a certain moral code, she wasn't sure that he would understand. "It's complicated," she said, before another pause. "Machine is the best way I can think to describe it. Um. With the first aid, for example, I don't want to patch people up so they can be the ones to fight for me." She kept her eye on him, trying to see if she was getting across. "But the skill would be okay to have, I think. There are some skills I don't want at all. Punching, any attacks that can only be used to hurt people." Her face twisted at the very thought. "When my reflexes take over, I don't want that to be an option." She was very aware now that if she spent more time in powered in the city, those times would come.

"Um, I was working some on dodges, before," she said, the heaviness returning to her chest as she let it trail off into the unspoken fact that she would need a lot more practice and adaptations, now. "I've been thinking some about blocks, defensive maneuvers. I think that would be okay to learn." Slowly and carefully, she nodded.

They hadn't really talked philosophy like this before, except maybe talking about Irving's method but not the modern part of it, the war that they and others actually lived in. She hadn't been expecting Encke to expect that she fight when he'd been so kind about everything else, but it was another relief deep in her chest when he didn't.

She nodded, still a little hesitant but less so then she had been. "Yes, I think blocking would be okay." She'd heard that it could still hurt people, seen pictures of bruises on forearms when she'd tried looking it up, but it would be the person's own force redirected. It would hurt their hand, too, if they hit her somewhere else. "But nothing more than that," she said, and that time when she spoke there was a little steel under her softness.

"You don't have to take responsibility for that, though. It seems like a lot of people know about training." She'd had a few offers now, and one angry, heavy cat who had insisted. "On the other hand, you're one of the only few people I've met who gets quite so into exploring." She smiled bright at that. Space did seem to bee a topic of interest, and there were a few other people she wanted to bring up to Pendour, but nobody else yet had seemed genuinely excited about an offer to help her clean.

It was always odd, hearing that people wanted to protect her. The taste it left in her mouth was like black coffee: warm, but bitter and jolting at the same time. It was a sweet thought, but she knew deep down that nobody could protect her, not really. It was a matter of when she got hurt, not if, and the time would probably come sooner for her than for people who used different tactics in this war. She didn't want anyone to feel responsible when that happened.

That wasn't the whole picture, though. She could learn to accept concern, even if she didn't seek it. She wasn't sure if she would be able to learn to dodge a punch, now, when she still found herself bumping into walls more than she'd like to admit.

"No, it's okay," she said, quickly and quietly, and then a bit more firmly, "You can help, if you want. That would be sweet as sweet of you. I think I'm just procrastinating."

She looked back up to the sky, this time away from the direction that the comet was moving, which would be towards Neptune. Well, maybe. She realized she wasn't sure about orbits. Either way, she got a nice look at some stars. "There's actually a bit of a waiting list for Pendour right now. I met a senshi, and then a brand new Neptune knight just the other day who wants to see it, and I did tell Irving I was going to talk to him at some point." Her smile at that was small but true, because it was nice, being the one to show others a little bit of the universe.

"Don't worry, you still have the most enthusiasm and the most experience," she said, going for the subtle tease since Encke was apparently feeling old today, but that didn't mean they had to linger in the heavy topics. "I guess I do mostly think about going to space with you, but maybe we can do something else in the meantime. Train, even."

She had to take a few seconds to get the bags sorted out, but she handed Encke's back over to him and opened up her own. "But yes, let's enjoy today for now. Are we here?"

The balm for Pendour's soul, as it turned out, was not leftovers mashed between bread, or food of any kind at all. Her bag of baked goods was shed quick as quick when she saw the staked off area for what it was, and she dropped it rather unceremoniously on the ground. It was good that the food within was wrapped, as one of the loaves of bread half rolled out as Pendour turned away and knelt down.

No. For Pendour, the balm was baby plants

"Oh," she breathed, eyes lingering for a long moment on each hint of green she could see. "It's beautiful. It's growing!" She managed to tear her eyes away for just a few seconds at that to smile at her friend, any and all of the previous apprehension erased from her face. "You're growing something on your own world! That's beyond special." There was something soft and warm in her center that reached her eyes, something that went past just happiness at seeing plants. Pride, she decided. She was proud of him.

Then she turned back to the plants, because she was just as proud of the plants themselves, pushing up their seedling leaves despite the rocky and alien soil. "Hello, beauties," she told them, her voice edging just slightly towards a croon. "Aren't you strong, growing up so far from home?"

Having plants sprout was always the first sign of success, although it was early to tell if the plants were actually growing strong. "And growing under the stars, too," she said, directed more towards Encke that time although she took a few more moments before she turned back around.

She scooted back over to her bag and started to empty it out properly, revealing a few cheese pastries, a loaf of soft white bread, and one final chocolate chip muffin. "If things work out the same way up here, I think light will be your biggest challenge."

It was finally time for the food, and Pendour started unwrapping her bread as she listened to Encke talk about potential problems and solutions for his garden. She was practically rapt as she watched him, and it seemed that she'd traded a bit of her dreamy demeanor for focus in a way that only happened when she talked about something that truly interested her.

At least she remembered to eat. This was, after all, supposed to be a picnic, first. She hadn't packed a knife, so she broke the bread in the old fashioned way and offered a decent chunk of it to Encke in trade for his salmon, and then quickly made a little open faced sandwich. The first bite was hearty and comforting as home, and Pendour let her eyelids flutter shut for a second.

"It's good," she said, and even though her mind was swirling with thoughts about things like heartbreak and the magic in the little things, she wasn't sure if there was much more to say about it. She took another look at the plants, instead. That was something she knew about.

"Too much sun isn't so bad," she said, still smiling. "You just need umbrellas." She squinted once more at the starry sky, then continued, "Well, umbrellas for light. Temperature is harder unless you want to build a greenhouse, or find one, maybe." There would have to be some way to keep food growing despite the seasons being so different, so that would either mean very interesting native plants or something artificial. Pendour hoped it was the native plants, herself, but she thought Encke would maybe like a greenhouse.

"And remember, seasons mean that different things grow at different times. Sometimes you might not be able to grow anything at all, and that's okay, too. The soil needs to rest." With her free hand, she softly drew a few fingers across the dirt before she turned back to the plants again. "But these little ones can take some heat, and they should only take a few months to grow up."

It seemed like they'd lucked into it being the right time of year to plant. Pendour wondered, vaguely, how different it would be in her bubbled wonder, where there were maybe no seasons at all.

Pendour looked around a little when he started brainstorming plants could work up here, taking a few fingerfuls of soil and letting it run through her fingers. It was very different from the rich, loamy kind brought into the city gardens in truckloads, but that didn’t make Pendour like it any less. She smiled, not even seeming to mind that her glove was getting a bit dusty while she ate.

“Roses can be finicky,” she said, trying to keep her voice gentle but her words straightforward. “They like their soil just ever so. They like a little bit of acid, lots of fertilizer, sunshine.” Not that it would be impossible with a good amount of potting soil and a careful eye. “Maybe the magic that flows through these places helps, too. I hope so. My wonder doesn’t have bright light, either, but I’d really love some heritage roses up in the formal gardens there.”

Pendour made herself stop for a moment to eat some more, then continued. “I’d recommend trying it, but there’s alternatives, too. I think coral bells and columbine for me, maybe lavender and sedums for you. You could probably get some annuals, too, if you’re about to go into your summer.” She may have been thinking about what could grow up in space last time she’d been up at the nursery and looked through the tags for things that could grow in shade or rocky soil.

She somehow straightened even taller at the mention of native plants. “Native plants will probably be best of all, and yours sound just lovely on top of that.” It was good that this area was separated from anything that grew wild, but it also made Pendour more curious about what was out there. She shifted so that she was sitting on her knees. “Um, can we go look for some, once we’re done here?”

"Well, if as a beginner gardener you're growing things out on a comet, I don't think you have to worry at all about not being an expert," Pendour said, every trying to be encouraging. She turned to look over at the garden again, at the little plants breaking free from the dirt, and decided that Encke didn't need too much encouraging. He'd done his research. The fence and the separated out area were practical and perfect.

Still, space gardening came with its own complications that no almanacs or homesteader blogs were going to be any use with. "When do you think the seasons will really shift?" she asked. "In our fall? You'll for sure have to think ahead, then. Stores don't sell as many seeds past midsummer, and almost no live plants at all."

She didn't seem very put off by the idea of thinking ahead. The smile stayed. Sadie quite enjoyed scribbling out lists of plants on the back of receipts, usually in the colder months when she was waiting to get her hands in the soil, and she had nothing against doing it now.

She finished off her fish and bread, attempted to wipe the crumbs off of her gloves with her skirt, which only half worked, and smiled brighter still at the mention of going to look for wildflowers.

"I like common plants, too. Even weeds, sometimes." She looked down for a second at that, since it wasn't always a popular opinion among gardeners. She'd still pull them when she had too, but she still found their individualities fascinating. "They've usually got interesting features that make them so good at survival. I find it valiant." She laughed softly at that, because while true, it was a little silly. Then, she looked back to Encke. "And, well, with magic, they're even better."