synapsed

“They don’t mean anything, right?” La’an speaks slowly, reluctantly. She was frowning at Erica but now she’s looking away, eyes focused very intently on the door. “The dreams. They’re just — synapses firing. We don’t have to read anything into it.”“Sure,” Erica agrees.“So no one else needs to know,” La’an finishes. Erica fights the urge to interrupt with a well-timed duh, letting La’an meander towards whatever point she’s trying to make instead. “And we never need to talk about it. We both have to know, but we can just — not talk about it. Right?”