( What the Initiative wants, the Initiative gets. Even if it's pulling people from the moment they enter their own grave, incinerated on a battlefield, or dying of cancer in their bed.
She goes still, eyes sliding toward his hand on her sleeve. She swallows, listening to him speak. He's so fragile sounding right now. It makes her heart hurt. She remembers their awkward dance last month, not even three weeks past, and has to swallow again, past a lump that's part grief for what he's acknolwedging, and part grief that comes in seeing anyone she likes and cares about being brought low. )
Aren't you supposed to have been born six thousand years ago?
( She manages at last, offering him a small, quivering smile. She does tug her hand away, not to dislodge him -- he may well hold on -- as she moves her hand to the side of his face. It's to keep him looking at her, even as she forces herself to look him in the eyes.
No one's supposed to know, and by her own chatty mouth, and his own breadth of years, now someone did. )
Which secret of mine are you keeping, Kev?
( She can feel her eyes welling up, that familiar warmth that spoke of tears almost prompting her to blink. She forgoes, hoping her tears won't overflow before he answers. She needs to hear, just to make sure.
And she wasn't crying for her. She can't be that selfish, okay, she'll never cry for herself. it's for him, and for all those people he's supposed to have been able to watch over, and who he couldn't possibly defend against the UE's whims. That's all. That's more than enough reason why to cry. )
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She goes still, eyes sliding toward his hand on her sleeve. She swallows, listening to him speak. He's so fragile sounding right now. It makes her heart hurt. She remembers their awkward dance last month, not even three weeks past, and has to swallow again, past a lump that's part grief for what he's acknolwedging, and part grief that comes in seeing anyone she likes and cares about being brought low. )
Aren't you supposed to have been born six thousand years ago?
( She manages at last, offering him a small, quivering smile. She does tug her hand away, not to dislodge him -- he may well hold on -- as she moves her hand to the side of his face. It's to keep him looking at her, even as she forces herself to look him in the eyes.
No one's supposed to know, and by her own chatty mouth, and his own breadth of years, now someone did. )
Which secret of mine are you keeping, Kev?
( She can feel her eyes welling up, that familiar warmth that spoke of tears almost prompting her to blink. She forgoes, hoping her tears won't overflow before he answers. She needs to hear, just to make sure.
And she wasn't crying for her. She can't be that selfish, okay, she'll never cry for herself. it's for him, and for all those people he's supposed to have been able to watch over, and who he couldn't possibly defend against the UE's whims. That's all. That's more than enough reason why to cry. )