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Summer was not normally a time of year where hot chocolate was desirable. The sweet, rich liquid was a staple Penelope called upon during the winter to stay warm and to soothe her throat from the hoarseness that often came from that time of year. Yet, tonight, she sat with two cups in front of her. A third, nearly drained, she brought to her own lips. She tried to bury her mind into that sweetness, to concentrate only on the good and not on her shaking hands.

Her phone sat in front of her--her normal, every day phone, not her other one. She had sent a text to two people that had previously told her they planned on attending the Carnival and offered to meet up with her and Harper if they had a chance. That chance had never come thanks to the appearance of first youma and then the brawl with the Negaverse. But those two people were not forgotten, and it had taken the nervous girl about half a cup of cocoa to finally text one of them and see if they would meet her.

Chris and Paris... who she had not seen in so long, too long, and now... now she didn't even know if they were well. Had they managed to power up in time? Had they been hurt in the fight? Had they even gone to the Carnival, ultimately? Maybe she was worried for nothing! Maybe... maybe she was not worried enough? She chewed on a particularly large marshmallow she had specially requested for her cocoa and stared at the electronic device, practically begging for it to ring. To let her hear one of her two friends and discover that they were okay.

As much as Paris wanted to see Penelope and make sure that she was alright, he was not too keen on the idea of letting Chris out of the house.

It had been a miserable two days. Following their escape from the Carnival, Paris had put aside enough time to see that Lily made it to the hospital alright, and to see that Zia and Pascal were actually alive and not lying around in a pool of blood somewhere, before making the long drive home and stumbling under Chris’s weight as he helped him into bed. Neither of them had any desire for a hospital stay. As much as Paris would like to hear Chris given a clean bill of health, he had no fondness for hospitals and didn’t trust them to be able to do much for the aftereffects of starseed ripping anyway. What would they do except examine Chris and make sure he got plenty of fluids? Paris could do that just as well on his own.

So it was that Paris had had nothing to do over the last two days but sit around and fret over him, which involved a lot of soup-making, a lot of soothing tea rather than Chris’s usual coffee, a lot of petting and hand-holding and snuggling, and a lot of weeping while Chris was sleeping and couldn’t see him fall apart.

It had taken quite a bit of convincing for Paris to agree to let Chris out of the house rather than driving out to pick Penelope up, but he knew that Chris was restless and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand. Paris could hardly stand to be in bed for days on end either.

He tried to smile as he and Chris approached that evening, but it probably looked a little strained given that he half expected Chris to fall over at any moment. As soon as Paris had Chris in one of the seats, he rained kisses all over Chris’s unshaven face.

“Sit and rest,” he rambled. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I’ll get you some water. You should really eat something. I know you just ate dinner a little while ago but you need to keep your strength up. How about some soup? Just sit here and I’ll go get you some. You should be in bed, Chris, look at your face, you look awful.”

He bustled over to Penelope to hug her and on impulse planted a kiss onto her cheek, before he was pulling away to scamper off into the cafe with a, “Make sure he doesn’t try to get up! I’ll be right back!”

Chris didn’t mind the kisses or the fussing, much too happy to be out and about to complain about the simple gestures that indicated how much Paris cared for him. If it had been him, Chris was sure he would be fussing just as much. So instead of arguing, he showed Paris a warm smile, glancing over his shoulder to watch as his partner made his way into the cafe.

It wasn’t until Penelope had taken hold of his hands did he realize how distressed she looked, and his eyes widened in surprise for a moment before flushing guiltily. “I’m fine!” he insisted, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the unnecessary attention. “I promise!”

His voice was weaker than usual, and winced lightly when he realized how Penelope probably noticed. “Paris is just overreacting a bit...” he mumbled, unable to look her in the eyes for much longer than that and he glanced towards the cup of hot chocolate with a small grin. “Thank you, I’ll have to return the favor sometime,” he said, gently pulling one of his hands away so he could reach out for the cup.

Part of him felt guilty for withholding information as to why he looked as horrible as he did, and seemed to be worn down, but another part wanted to keep her from worrying needlessly. What had happened was over with, so why spend time fretting about something that may never happen again?

“Paris, tell her I’m okay,” he asked, glancing over towards the door as Paris came back out to rejoin them. “There were a lot of people worse off...”

Paris's own emotional response to Chris's non-chalance did nothing to soothe Penelope's own anxieties. Still, she tried to appear strong for his sake. The blonde looked strained and drained, as though all of his juice had been siphoned out and the weak flesh left behind. Maybe the hot chocolate would help nourish him a little bit. She lifted the remaining cup and held it, intending to hand it over as soon as he placed the soup and sandwich down for his partner.

'He had his starseed ripped out.'

Maroon eyes widened. Slim fingers grew weak. The cup fell to the table with a splash. The normally fastidious girl did not move to clean the growing pool of steaming brown liquid as it spread cross the table. If it scalded her hand as it fell, there was no indication of it from her face. The kind-hearted Penelope seemed strangely stone-faced, frozen in place by the words echoing over and over again in her head.

Her expression changed slowly. The free hand clenched her blue skirt, twisting the fabric. Her gaze narrowed. Her voice, always soft, now had a dangerously hard edge that seemed a clear contrast to the tears in her eyes, as she choked, "Who.... who did this to you?" Penelope looked between the two of them, uncharacteristically demanding as she awaited an answer. Her own experience at the Carnival paled in comparison and, in truth, was completely forgotten. Chris had almost died.

Paris reacted at almost the same time as Chris and made efforts to contain and sop up the spill, grabbing whatever napkins he could find and focusing on the task of cleaning rather than looking at either of the others’ faces.

He was not in any way apologetic for sharing the information. On the contrary, he thought Penelope’s reaction to the news was entirely appropriate, and he felt better to see someone else taking it so seriously. Chris should know better than to make light of it, to pretend as if it wasn’t the extreme circumstance it truly was. Starseed ripping was no trifling matter. Even Paris, beneath all of his delusions, and under his ignorance and doubtful nature, knew that very well.

“General Benitoite,” Paris said, since it seemed obvious to him that Chris had no intention of sharing the details. He did make sure to at least lower his voice enough to prevent any passersby from overhearing, leaning over the table so that their conversation was more private as he helped mop up the hot chocolate.

“You remember him from the Surrounding?” he continued. “I think he was just a Captain then. Had a big paint brush. And last summer he went after Kallichore when they crashed our big meeting.”

Paris was pretty sure he had no need to remind her, but it felt better to thoughtlessly ramble on about it than to sit there, think, and stew.

“He went after one of my friends at the Carnival,” he explained, growing quieter, his voice nearly as strained as before. “And then Chris...”

He did not want to think about that, so Paris jumped up to take the pile of soaked napkins and dumped them in a nearby trashcan. When he returned to his seat he was a little more controlled with his facial expression, though he still looked pale and jittery, and he ignored any attempt Chris made to get him to eat something.

“Anyway, that’s three strikes for General Ben,” he said. “He can enjoy a spot on my s**t list now.”

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be taking it seriously should the situation ever arise again, but right now there was no danger, there was no reason for either Paris or Penelope to fret and worry, especially about him.

But as Paris ignored him to inform Penelope more about what had happened, he lowered his eyes to the sandwich in front of him, forcing himself to at least nibble at the bits he pulled apart. It wasn’t difficult to see how much Paris worried about him, but other than trying to make things easier on all of them, there wasn’t much Chris could do.

At least Penelope caught on to his concern for Paris’s well being and prompted him to eat — leave it to Penelope to worry about everyone equally. Just her presence alone was enough to set him at ease.

Granted, he didn’t want her stressing out!

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Chris said softly, knowing Penelope must have other things to be doing, especially in getting up with others who might have been hurt during the fiasco. “I’m… I’m sorry we’re making you worry… I promise I’ll be more careful… but you’ll have to do the same, okay?”

He thought that was fair enough. Now if only they could get Paris to eat something.

The dark-haired girl was not completely convinced whenever her friend took a draught of water, but it was at least a step in the right direction. Maybe water would make her blond-friend hungry as well... but that remained to be seen. If he wanted something, she would fetch it. For now, she smiled weakly at Chris and nodded, trying her best to forget the pictures she had imagined in her mind, "Anytime! I'm always happy to meet and... I'll be careful... I promise."

At Paris's question, she grew a little quieter. "I was in the House of Mirrors." Penelope looked down at the table and, for an instant, didn't say anything more. Compared to what Paris and Chris had had to endure... her experiences were not even enough to complain about. "It had... um, well, about who you would expect given the name..." She could not very well mention the Dark Moon Court out loud, but she was certain they could glean who she meant.

It was hard to talk about her time there in the dark, under Mimistrobell's spell. The darkness and the mirrors themselves had been frightening enough but the memory of the girl's hands on her body, the warmth of her hug, the whisper in her ear... it made her shudder. She swallowed back a lump in her throat and spoke more roughly than normal, "I got attacked, and... she asked to join them again. I said no, but I couldn't... really fight. I eventually made it out because she left, and then headed towards everything else."

Paris visibly grimaced as his mind was suddenly full of imaginings of mirror houses and the sort of people that had surely used such a thing to their advantage. He had not met very many Senshi of the Dark Mirror Court, but the mention of them and the memories his thoughts of so many mirrors in one place encouraged to arise left a bad taste in his mouth, and set his stomach twisting with regret.

Indeed, whatever had ultimately happened in either place, a House of Mirrors seemed far more dangerous to Paris than the area of the park where they'd encountered Benitoite.

“We were by the swings,” he said, continuing to stare across at Penelope to see for himself, once again, that she was alright. “We didn't... we weren't there when they all... you know, banded together in one place. Chris'd been hurt. Another Senshi, too. We couldn't...”

There was some mild shame in his voice, but his guilt was not quite as strong as it might have been if they'd not been there for the finale for any other reason besides injury or starseed ripping. The important thing at that point had been to make sure that both Chris and Lily would be alright. Paris expected neither of them had been in any state for any more fighting.

“Who knows what they'll do next,” Paris observed. “They haven't done anything like this in a while. Not since last summer. Can't say I care to see it happening more often, but... I suppose it's good that it's not a frequent thing. Or better than it would be if it happened all the time.”