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[He almost says, 'it's safe here'. A ghost room is as safe as he makes it, provided none witness his flight.
He almost says, 'then where?' Where, when he knows no place here, knows no person here, or at least not Truly.
Even so, living like this again has been tiring. Before, he had never had a purpose to grasp. Living was living, and to think of the future seemed almost possible.
Then for an instant of time, the future 'existed'. A place beyond where they stood now- a place outside, where living meant something other than surviving.
And then it was gone, and he was 'surviving' again.
Emporio's hand trembles as he reaches forward, and slowly his electric burned palm meets Zelda's own.]
O...okay.
...I...I'll trust you.
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