Abby gives a big, gusty sigh, "Yeah..." before she catches Clarisse's hand, allowing her to help her up onto the back of Blunder. It's obvious that she hates this part, that no amount of joking around eases the sensation of Blunder edging off the wall of the eyrie and into the air, falling like a stone for two heart-stopping seconds before she catches herself and the weight of her riders, pulling them upward, levelling out. It's that stomach-swoop that always makes Abby want to throw up, but she can't. No throwing up on the girl you like.

She doesn't. She keeps her face pressed into the back of Clarisse's shoulder where she can feel muscle working under skin, and smell her, the shampoo she's still using that makes her hair nice and soft. Whenever she runs her hands through it it slips through her fingers. Abby thinks about that instead of how far away the ground is, and Clarisse was right about the flight on being a few minutes but she still slips off the griffon with a shudder onto legs that are wobblier than she'd like.

"Okay." Still breathing deeply. "See? Fine."

No problem.