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Beatrice hasn't worn short sleeves in the time Ava has been back.
True, it's closing in on winter, but Málaga in November is barely any cooler than Brienz had been in June, and in the summer Beatrice had taken every possible opportunity to go sun's out, guns out.
Ava watches, curious, for some sort of sign, some clue to what Beatrice is keeping under wraps. She's been back for a week, almost, and they've kissed in quiet corners and in the back of the chapel, and once, in a fit of daring, in the confessional, Ava in Beatrice's lap admitting to myriad sins ("the Bloody Marys sold well, I just hated making them" and "I bought us new towels because I used ours to try and smother a stovetop fire" and "I spent half our time in Switzerland trying not to touch myself to the thought of you").
But they haven't gone any further than furtive makeouts and some over-the-clothes heavy petting – which, she has to remind herself, would be a mind-blowing development for June Ava. But Beatrice hasn't even rolled up her sleeves, which… The thought Beatrice's forearms had constituted, like, a solid 64% of Ava's will to live while on the other side, but it's fine. She's fine. She can be very cool, very normal and definitely absolutely will not suffer if she never gets to see Beatrice's forearms again.
She's totally fine.
It's on day seven post-return that Beatrice slips up. She's spent most of the afternoon waist-deep in a van's engine compartment, in between shouting matches with Mary across the garage. Her coveralls are zipped up under her chin, and stray curls of hair are slicked to her forehead with sweat. She rubs at her face and then frowns at the dampness on her hands, unbuttons the placket at her wrist and starts to roll up her right sleeve. Ava feels like a Victorian gentleman about to pass out over the mere sight of a sliver of skin. She doesn't mean to, but she takes a step forward over the threshold of the garage, drawn towards the revelation of Beatrice's bare skin like a moth towards a flame.
There's a faint blue glow that grows brighter as Ava approaches. Beatrice's head snaps up. She fumbles with her sleeve for a moment, an adorable crease between her eyebrows, but the cuff is caught on the knob of her elbow. She settles for linking her hands behind her back instead.
"Ava!" She chirps, far too brightly for someone who'd been calling Mary a 'piece of fucking work' not two minutes prior.
Ava takes another step closer. "Beatrice," she replies, soft. She'd raise a hand, but this already feels far too much like approaching a wild animal. Apt enough, though, as Beatrice's eyes very noticeably flick towards the exit. "Show me," she says, just as gently.
Beatrice's shoulders droop. "You would have found out sooner or later," she concedes. "It was only a delay of the inevitable in the hopes I would be better prepared to discuss it by the time the conversation arose."
She swings her arms forward, left hand finding the pocket of her coveralls, right coming out in front of her until her forearm is on display for Ava.
It's a starburst shining divinium blue, a double handful of lines broken by tick marks emanating from a central black point. Ava can't help herself, doesn't want to stop herself from reaching out and dragging a fingertip down one of the lines. Beatrice's skin is warm beneath Ava's touch and the divinium sparks bright in response to the Halo's nearness.
"What is it?"
Beatrice clears her throat. "Pulsars are spinning neutron stars that blink on and off like lighthouses. When the Pioneer 10 and 11 spacecraft were launched, they were sent bearing a plaque with this map on it – a map of the position of known pulsars relative to our sun. A map of lighthouses, guiding the observer here." She taps the central dot. "That's here, that's home, that's us," she says, the slightly removed tone Ava associates with the oh-so-common occurrence of a 'Quotes with Beatrice' event. "On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives." Beatrice inhales shakily. "It was silly, really, but I thought maybe it would help guide you back to us. Back to me. Back home."