“You ran barefoot next to your<span style="font-style: italic">pool</span>and fell into the table. You definitely grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth,” he noted, fingertips ghosting over the raised and twisted scar tissue. Eventually the scar ended and tapered off at her shoulder, and Lex withdrew his hand when he felt softer, unblemished skin. Another pointed question that he couldn’t avoid. If they were in any other situation, and if she hadn’t been right in front of him in a tight space, he might have even moved past her and continued walking. In lieu of that, he thought back over the years. They had kind of begun to bleed together at this point, but he was fairly sure he had kept a decent track of time. “Six years?” It still more a question than an answer. “Six years,” he repeated, more confidently this time. It hadn’t been too much earlier than the Realian outbreak hit.<br/><br/>Again, he could say that hindsight’s 20/20. But he kept his mouth shut in that regard.<br/><br/>“So what happened to your pool and your fancy table, then?” he asked. “And your family, where are they?” She got two, so he got two.