"We will get there,," he offers dismissively, regarding driving until only the moon and stars remain.
As they move from the car, he looks down at her for a moment, in the street lamp-light on this empty bridge in the hours before dawn. He take a moment, and the memory is hazy - her running has become like watching clouds drift by in fast-forward, hard to recall in any sharp detail. "Mani remembered, remembers and will remember, knows. It will be." Said simply, as he looks toward the sky, then follows her gaze to the river beneath them, its icy depths reflecting the dark sky above.
Her comment makes his lips upturn at the corners, something like amusement. "Spákona, you make jumping sound tempting." He looks at her, a wry glint in his eyes, and now, something familiar, a gentleness, or perhaps only a reflection of her own gentle spirit in eyes that have none of their own.