"Working on believing that," It's hard, okay. Everything her life has done so far, except being here, has reinforced this idea. It's true, in her head. It takes some work to make it clearly false. It wasn't there when she first visited the Horizon. There's a lot swimming around her head, but it's clear she's feeling better as white clouds form off her shirt as she wrings her hand on the hem.

She bats the clouds apart once she spots them.

"I do still need to talk to him, if I don't it'll just be fucking weird. And it's better to find out who he is now rather than wait." The seeds of an idea are taking root in her head, based on Julie's advice but disregarding a lot of it for a better plan. Or a stupider plan. Or a brilliant plan. Who can say? "Even if I don't try to fuck him. But I might, I don't know."

Sex feels like a thing she wasn't meant to just have, especially since romance still feels impossible.

"So... you know him because you sell him weed." Listen, she's not presuming anything other than every stereotype that applies to 'master of the mystic arts.' "Does he have a hundred year old van with a shag interior?"