Fairy tales don't work in real life, do they? Maybe that was a pessimistic look at it, but R wasn't a prince. He was just a zombie who'd spent years shuffling around, reluctantly eating brains, and trying to make the best of the fact that everything was dull and quiet and gone.

But this wasn't the city. Or the airport. It was Darrow, and Amalthea was his fiend. She was also a unicorn. Maybe if anyone could do anything, it was her.

Hope was a dangerous thing, but a glimmer of it settled between his ribs and made a home.

"C-could... try," he agreed, too nervous and wide eyed to be excited. He didn't want her to feel bad if it didn't work. He didn't want to be disappointed, either.