[ Alina's lips part, the confession thick on her tongue as Mal nods stoically. She cannot help but feel she made a mistake, both in her lie and in erasing the scar, but it's too late now. She swallows it down, her eyes casting downward as she wraps her hands back around the bars, her head tipping against the cool metal.

But he is gentle with her, more gentle than she thinks she's earned right now. Of the two of them, one definitely is acting with greater grace, and it is not the saint. ]

Mal— [ Her voice is a gentle ribbing as he slides down the bars. She crouches to follow, settling in against the bars. Once seated, she slips her hand across the ground to catch his again, warm and steadying as always. Selfishly, she wants him to stay, just for a little while longer. Just to know that, against all odds, he is here. ]

That sounds like the Little Palace.

[ Which has her slightly wary, given that ended up being little more than a gilded cage, but of her complaints the beds were not among them. ]

If you stay down here they might put you in a cell yourself. [ She holds up her other hand, stopping him before he can even start, yes she knows that protest is coming. ] And then if you're stuck down here, who will bring me snacks?