"Seven, what's going on?" She glare at me.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not Seven."
I guess again. If what I'm seeing is neither a dream nor a vision but a memory... It would make sense.
"Efta?" I tried again. This time she did not glare. She just stop walking. Her long midnight hair turn around to regard me strangely. Her fingers cake into my palm and fitted right through my fingers.
I'm struck by how her hand felt so right in mine. I seriously don't have any romantic feelings for Seven... I regard her as my sister.
Only that.
But strange sensations crawled from my hand up to my chest. Based from the contact of our skin alone. I shiver.
"Did you perhaps hit your head from the practice this morning Lancelot? After you told me to be ready for the Ranker's trial tonight...what? Are you nervous for me?"