later they'll laugh abt this over wine while dunking on sasuke

（ she'd come over smiling, a moment's fey pleasure at her little gambit paying off — temporary distraction to loss — gutted instantly by the cold words. she couldn't have looked more shocked if he'd slapped her across the face, the abruptness of her halt making one boot squeak against the ballroom floor. she's rarely in her life been spoken to in such a manner, much less in this particular context. yet it's naruto's name, more perhaps than even the epithet, that makes anger twist and boil into something ugly inside her, threatening to bleed over. her fingers curl in against her palms, the press of her nails a grounding point.

there are two sides to the season that bridges winter to summer, echoes of each. but desolate cold is no stranger to spring, and her voice is a reflection of fractal frost. ）

Excuse me?

（ she heard him perfectly well. this is his one chance to change his mind. ）