"What happened?" she asked, voice coming out softer than she intended.
The system sniffled once.
"I'm completely useless, Host," he said.
And then he burst into tears.
Not delicate, dignified tears. Actual crying, the messy kind, tiny lion shoulders shaking, big drops rolling down his fluffy face, the whole thing.
Heena stood there for about two seconds.
Then, without really thinking about it, she got up from her chair, crossed the distance between them, and gathered him into her arms. He was small enough to hold properly, soft and warm and trembling slightly, and she tucked him against her chest and started patting the top of his head with her palm in slow, steady strokes.
"Hey," she said. "Stop that. I didn't tell *you* to get out. I told that *bastard* to get out. You and him are very different categories."
The system sniffled harder into her shoulder. "It's not about that."
"Then what is it about? Use your words."
