After three unsuccessful attempts at catching a fish, she reluctantly hands the rod to Nemesis. Nemesis throws the hook into the river skilfully without any snarky remarks. On the dock, they sit in silence side by side. They are close enough to appear friendly, but not close enough to be what Melinoë wants them to be.
Kinder, gentler, and perhaps sadder—she is accustoming herself to this new aspect of Nemesis. Melinoë fails to determine what has changed, and to voice her concern for Nemesis is even impossible. Nemesis has never liked to talk; she scoffs at whatever things that annoy her and moves on. She calls them inconveniences. Right, everything is a minor inconvenience to Nemesis, compared with the Titan of Time. She swears one day Nemesis will leave her no choice but to drug her, and then she can finally find out what in the hell her issues are.
She takes a rice ball from her picnic basket and gives it a bite. She chews as she studies Nemesis' side profile. Her hair has grown longer; it falls over her eyes when she stoops. Nemesis will let Melinoë stroke the hair aside if she is in the good mood, which is rarely the case.
Nemesis gives her a look. "What?"
"I'm just amazed you'd be willing to join me," she says, "considering that you always seem to have an excuse when it comes to my invitation."
"Are you being sarcastic?"
"I'm being genuine."
Nemesis regards her again. Her look is less sharp this time, and Melinoë almost smiles. She finishes the rice ball and proceeds to take another. Nemesis tilts her head to her, mouth open. Her finger is bitten when feeding Nemesis. No. She makes her finger bitten when feeding Nemesis. Nemesis mumbles an apology, but her attention is on the fishing float.
Apart from those sparring sessions, she wonders if Nemesis ever thinks about what they used to do when they were younger. Because she does. She thinks about it until she no longer can. She has a task, and Headmistress would hate to see her being distracted.
"Did you make this?" Nemesis asks.
"Yes," she replies. "Why?"
"Too salty."
She hits her knee on Nemesis'; her hands holding the fishing rod slightly lose the balance, and her mouth twitches in the most condescending way.
She is such an asshole, and Melinoë wants her. Yes, Melinoë wants her; but what more could she possibly do? Nemesis likes to act as though they're strangers gradually becoming familiar, and Melinoë doesn't know how to stop what they share from degrading further. She has learnt that to start a sentence with Do you remember? is not ideal. Nemesis is desperate to forget, since escape may be easier for her. Nemesis' childish avoidance vexes her. Sometimes she is so sick of Nemesis' beating around the bush that she feels like pushing Nemesis into the Cocytus and then jumping in with her. It certainly is an irrational and irresponsible thought. However, a thought is merely a thought. The reality is that Nemesis is here, and their eyes can barely lock together for more than five seconds. Still, Melinoë watches her and thinks of her: endearing, yet difficult to love.
"You're doing it all wrong, you know," Nemesis says, concentrating on the surface of the river.
"I was not trained for this," she says.
"No, you aren't."
"Teach me someday," she says. "Will you, Nem?"
"Sure."
It sounds like a promise, and probably the best she can ask Nemesis for at this very moment.
She leans on Nemesis' arm and closes her eyes. Nemesis does not tell her to back off. Their pinkies touch on the wooden pier. A fish is nibbling at the bait. They both remain static. And then the fish is gone.