[ When he comes, she's always responsive, keeps up with the conversation, takes interest in his presence. She's not despondent or apathetic. She just doesn't feel any drive to actively seek out interaction with others, which is not something she'd ever been through before she came to Abraxas. In her own world, she'd always wanted to be around people, wanted to bask in spotlights and soak up the attention of others. A few months ago, she'd spurned the desire out of anger and self-defense, but there was never a lack of it. When she wasn't speaking to anyone at all, she still craved the company; she was just too furious and afraid to allow it.

But losing Lloyd had thrown her into a place that she didn't recognize and is having trouble digging herself back out of. The people around her have been persistent enough in making sure she eats, has company for short periods. Her basic needs are satisfied. It's just that whatever compulsion it was that made her need constant companionship has been smothered. "Enough to get by" has become simply "enough", when it never was before.

She sits next to him when he moves, her arms folded atop her legs. With a laugh, she shakes her head, cradles the dead flower gently with the hand that isn't holding the stem. ] He would never, and I wouldn't need it back anyway. That's what I came to show you.

[ She takes a deep breath, blinks slowly, calmly. Her hand begins to glow a soft pink that extends to surround the wilted bloom. The beginning is gradual, almost imperceptible for a second or two, but the flower starts to revive itself, like a tiny bubble of time running in reverse. It takes a minute, maybe slightly less. Her shoulders are tense, shaking slightly. When her hand stops emitting light, the flower stands as if it bloomed this morning, vibrant and healthy.

Julie slumps slightly when it's done, lowers her hand and then holds the blossom out to him. ] I haven't tried anythin' else yet, since we have so many flowers everywhere. But it works every time now.