She knew she'd find him here despite this being the fourth dog park she went to. He was on the bench, without Sonny, still wearing his suit. It was barely two in the afternoon and the day had been particularly foggy. She sat down next to him and focuses on the tiny specks of water in the mist floating around them. 

"I get it now." She looks out at the birds in the pond. Are they real swans? Products of a manmade design? Should that matter? "You're allowed to be mad at me... but we're probably past that." He doesn't acknowledge her. "I don't want you to be sad either."

A single tear dots the slacks he's wearing. He pulls at his neck tie then brushes his thumb under his eye. Mísol remains silent with her clasped hands between her knees. She is more at ease than Pierce and it's a character flaw that this point. "You can say it. ...I know, 'there's no such thing as a good virus'. I'd believe you if you said it out loud." She hasn't gotten Pierce to say anything yet. "You're the expert."

She was in his head. Had been for, God, how long?

"You have to start over Pierce." More moments of nothingness. Mísol tilts ever so slightly closer to him, "I'm prepared for what that means." She was ready to be erased. Become nothingness rather than continue as the manifestation within the a-biotical components of a lonely billionaire's mind. She saw reasoning. That things would get worse, deteriorate further until he registered everyone that passed him as her. That wasn't a life worth living; one being flooded with her existence, being unable to start conversation for fear that what he was seeing wasn't real.