you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora’s mouth opens, then closes again sharply, surprise painting across her features as his words sink in. Her thoughts spiral into momentary disarray, scattered petals on rough waves, fragmented and confused by the revelation he'd simply shut her out entirely. She'd expected anger, irritation, something—anything other than quiet dismissal.
"Wh—?" Her voice cuts off abruptly, softer now, strained around the edges. A frustrated breath escapes through her lips, curling visibly into the chill night air. "Yes it's still ignoring. I was worried you were dead, Jack." Her gaze washes over him, eyes narrowing, vibrant with hurt.
The heat in her chest shifts from anger to embarrassment, cheeks flaming despite the darkness, eyes flashing brighter with renewed hurt and confusion. She watches him flick her dagger into the air and catch it easily, smoothly, as if it’s nothing—nothing like how precariously she feels she's been balancing all of this. Rather than reaching for it, Flora recalls the dagger with a flick of her wrist.
"So what the fuck, then? Why...?"
"Wh—?" Her voice cuts off abruptly, softer now, strained around the edges. A frustrated breath escapes through her lips, curling visibly into the chill night air. "Yes it's still ignoring. I was worried you were dead, Jack." Her gaze washes over him, eyes narrowing, vibrant with hurt.
The heat in her chest shifts from anger to embarrassment, cheeks flaming despite the darkness, eyes flashing brighter with renewed hurt and confusion. She watches him flick her dagger into the air and catch it easily, smoothly, as if it’s nothing—nothing like how precariously she feels she's been balancing all of this. Rather than reaching for it, Flora recalls the dagger with a flick of her wrist.
"So what the fuck, then? Why...?"
