‘ and what if i choose not to help you down. ’ 

it’s not a problem he’s yet seen selina encounter; climbing to an impossible spot, then struggling to lower herself back to the floor with equally impossible grace. he figures it has something to do with the bread-baking clutter that occupies every flat surface near the fridge. far be it from him to presume why she’d mounted the appliance in the first place.

having never needed one to inform his decision, he raises an arm without any answer.

         ‘ come on, ’ he says, gentle. ‘ i’ve got you. ’