"I catch glimpses and words of what is happening in the black land," Nephthys said, brow furrowed as she dropped her gaze. She heard the protector in Set tonight, that age-old role he had always played. Although she cared for humanity, protector was not her role. She comforted the dead and grieving, but beyond that was not her natural sphere. "Our home grows further and further from us with each fallen man there."
Nephthys took her drink. "I've grown a taste for it. I am spending time in the company of young adults and they've encouraged it." She was fairly sure that the ease with which she sat with him was being helped by the vodka.
"Such a sweet child," Nephthys said, her tone adoring. "I am never quite sure how to be around such young ones anymore, but she is sweet."
And then, surely spurred by the vodka again, she set her hand upon Set's own and, eyes lowered and not meeting his, said, "I have missed you." It was, perhaps, a foolish thing to admit, but they were getting along so well at that moment.