"Are we more likely to get eaten by a bear if we're stoned?" she asks with a small smile, reaching out to take one of the gummies from Steve with a grin. She pops it in her mouth before sinking down in her chair, feeling strangely warm and content and comfortable. She reaches across the space between the chairs and takes Steve's hand for a moment, squeezing his fingers in hers.

"Right," she says. "How do we make s'mores? I've never had one before."

It seems like the sort of thing a parent might teach someone to make. The only thing Maeve's mum taught her how to make was beans on toast and then she'd passed out and Maeve had burned herself.