❝Well, I mean, there are different definitions of ‘meet,’ really.❞
 

 His voice is unconvincingly nonchalant; when he was eleven,
 the numbers were too large to impose any real threat. They were
 there, they were part of life. Just like meeting Rose. The numbers
 marched on, too large to hold significance. But now that the clock
 is ticking through its last hour, they know something’s wrong.

 It’s a big deal for Scorpius. Neither has even glanced at Rose’s,
 not for a while (actually, Scorpius had been keeping his mind off
 the subject of her timer for fear of boosting his hopes too high). He
 simply began to panic when he noticed the numbers, and now it’s
 all Rose can do to keep him calm. As his breathing begins to
 even out, he continues. 

    ❝Maybe I’ve already met this person. You know, in the sense that
    I’ve introduced myself, or we’ve said a few words, or maybe even
    that we became friends,❞ he explains, knowing the last scenario
    is too good to possibly be true. ❝But maybe there’s something
    that’ll make me see this person in a- I dunno, a new way. You know?
    Like I’ll just say something or they’ll do something and more than
    the clock letting me know it’ll be-❞

 The clock falls off his wrist with a clink; it’s still only him and
 Rose in the entrance hall. Renewed excitement swells his
 chest and he finds the courage to grin.

    ❝It’ll be me knowing.❞