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“So what was your first anyway? Not, you know, the ones your mom picked out for you when you were really little, but the first one you chose for yourself?”
It’s more familiar now, the sudden understanding that Robin has been talking for a while and Nancy’s lost the thread. She shifts, her boots scraping concrete, rifle across her lap. Something cries beyond the floodlights. Far enough not to be a worry yet. “Um. What?”
“Nance, Earth to Nance,” Robin says, nudging her, elbow bony through her jacket. “It’s Halloween—I’m 98.57% sure—so pray tell: what was your first Halloween costume? Honestly, this conversation is getting too heavy to carry all by myself.”
There’s no real irritation in it, more a warm rasp of amusement that Nancy—well, she likes it, having the watch with Robin.
Halloween. Halloween, somewhere in the unremitting dark. Halloween, where calendar pages still matter.
“A princess,” Nancy says finally, seizing Robin’s question like she might her hand. Before, there was a before the earth cracked and the Upside Down leaked into Hawkins; that matters. “I was a fairy princess.”
Robin chuckles. “I can see it. Glitter and tulle everywhere, huh.”
“And a butterfly wand,” Nancy offers. “You?”
“Oh, me? I was a triangle.”
“A triangle?”
“An isosceles triangle. I made the whole thing out of papier-mâché.”
“I bet you were adorable.” Nancy smiles, leaning against Robin.
“And I bet you made a terrifyingly perfect princess.”
They laugh before the night swallows it.
Robin breaks the quiet after: “Hey, Nance? We’re going to have that again. Costumes and candy apples and fairs. We really will.”
Nancy turns her face, rests her cheek on Robin’s shoulder. “And kisses on the ferris wheel?”
Robin’s lips are dry and soft on her temple. “Kisses wherever you want.”