Her face burned. “Sorry, I…I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

“But you did mean it,” Pyrrha said, softly, recovering a little. She lifted her hand and water streamed down her wrist. “Didn’t you?”

“I…” It was just impossible to lie to those eyes. They were the same warm green color as sunlight through leaves, not an ounce of dislike or meanness in them, just this endless, quiet acceptance of all that you were. “I meant it. But—”

Pyrrha shook her head. “Then don’t feel sorry. You shouldn’t.” Now she did reach out and touch her, taking Weiss’s hand in both of her own, her fingertips barely touching her, leaving drops of water on the back of her hand. “I admire that part of you, you know. I’m a little jealous of the way you get angry. The way you’re honest without even trying.”