Pyrrha missed her. Pyrrha loves her. They are friends, and Alecto does not know how that can be. Friendship is not for monsters like her, or liars like Pyrrha. If Alecto was ever able to be a friend, she lost that a long time ago, well before she got sick.

It hurts to be held. It feels good. She is in the wrong body for both, a body that is a horror, a body that should never be touched. Alecto does not know how to hug in return, except as it involves scrapes and claws and nails, and that is what she does. When she draws the blood from Pyrrha's back, she exhales softly, a quiet ah.

"I am nobody's home. I did not survive. I know how to die, Pyrrha. I know something you do not."

Alecto lets go, so that she might study John's loved one.

"You are still trying to appease him. Why?"