She liked the inn so much, but living here had been inconvenient at times: not having a full space in which to sprawl, just a tiny one-room spot to call her own. And the thought had occurred to her before that if she had a house, she could have a place for friends to crash, and she could've shoved Jacob at the sofa when he needed somewhere safe to sleep. And yet, until now, she hadn't fully considered moving out. She'd latched onto the inn as such a comfort blanket, a crutch to keep herself surrounded by people. But it sounds like Aqua is in the same boat.

Neither of them want to be alone.

So maybe they could be not-alone, together.

Brigitte has perked up, looking more alert and awake than she had been just a minute ago. "I don't have a roommate, I'm just by myself," she says. Then: "Are you sure? You wouldn't mind? Because that. Would be lovely, I think."

A place to actually be home; to slump around in her PJs on days she's not working; to doze off on the sofa, surrounded by her notes and designs, rather than in a public space like this. Living with a friend. Someone like her. It sounds... good, actually.