"Fifty for an hour," Steve tells her. "Sixty for my mouth." Steve sells the only thing he’s got left and Natasha's buying. She’s not the only one.

Their first time is messy and awkward, fumbling attempts in the dark with laughter pressed against heated skin. Tsuna doesn’t know what to do with his hands, is so nervous he can’t seem to get hard at all, and Kyoko keeps giggling so hard she accidentally kicks him in the face. They don’t fare much better the second time, or the third. They always seem a step out of beat, never quite lining up, always missing each other. Tsuna always feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, like there’s something in his gut that’s trying to claw out. He keeps expecting his flames to burst out at any second. After a while he realises he’s so used to fighting his body is wired to it as soon as the adrenaline rush hits. And Kyoko is an adrenaline rush.

“I haven’t…” she starts, watches his blue eyes narrowed in concern and it’s distracting, everything’s distracting. “I haven’t had a body in a hundred years,” Zelda manages, and shrugs one shoulder, as if to say what can you do? “I was Hylia, mostly, and a little bit me, but I wasn’t a person. I was the sun and the wind and the water and the dirt and I was in a prison and I was the prison. I feel like I’m blindfolded, now, without that sense of the world, but also everything is so bright and loud and close and I hardly know how I’m managing to speak to you when my skin is feeling wind for the first time in a century. It’s…” she trails off, her words failing her, which is infuriating because she’s a scholar, she’s good at words. “It’s a lot,” she finishes awkwardly, for lack of anything better to say. Or: Learning to be a person again, after the end.

Hilary is okay with having a rep if it means NHL stars bring her Cheetos.