"This is weird," she admits. It still feels nice to be held by him, to be pampered, but she also feels steadier in a way she hasn't in a really long time. She wonders if this version of her, this dude version, is schizo, or if she's just coasting on something that's intrinsic to being a male Vincent.

She leans back at last, looking down at herself, touching her stomach, her hips. She feels firm in ways she's not used to.

"How long d'you think it'll last?"