"Or," Riven corrects, and turns around to meet Yasuo's gaze, "Your priorities are a mess."

"My priorities are right where I need 'em," he asserts, and to emphasize, he leans in to press his forehead against Riven's own. She can feel his breath ghost by her lips, tantalizingly close yet not close enough, and forcibly keeps her mouth shut. "...You've been tinkering with that gun for an hour, Riven. It's not gonna make anything better."

She knows.

She knows because she's disassembled and re-assembled the gun more times than she can count, but the nightmares still repeat in the back of her mind. At times she swears she can feel a phantom burn flash across her back, but the pain is gone before she can really register it and she's left wanting to feel something, anything, to offer her mind some reprieve. It's stupid--it's been years since she's received the injury and even longer since she's left, but every night she wakes up with the screams of her famiglia echoing in her ears and it never gets any better. Tonight is no exception, but this time Yasuo is awake too and she's too exhausted to lie.

He looks tired--he always does when this happens. But as usual, there isn't a word of complaint that leaves his mouth. He has his bad nights too and Riven is always there for him when it happens, ready to dab away the sweat that's formed on his brow and ease his ragged breathing with a kiss.

(But a kiss won't help her now, won't help her tensed muscles ease and keep her restless hands still. Yasuo knows--more than anyone else, he knows--and so he doesn't bother trying.)

"Riven."

...She needs to move.

"I'm going to take a walk," she says, and pulls herself away from Yasuo's embrace. It takes her a moment to find her shirt, tossed carelessly aside just a few hours prior, though it takes a while longer to find her bra. 

For a second or two, it looks like Yasuo is actually going to let her go, but as soon as her fingers secure the hooks on her bra, he drags himself out of bed and reaches for his shirt. Riven turns to look just in time to see the fabric cover the dragon that's inked along his shoulders, and frowns when Yasuo offers her a small smile.

"I'll come too," he says, and bends down to pick up her pants. "We can get some food on the way back. Tacos?"