you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora’s lips part slightly, her expression stricken, the fury in her chest flickering and wavering like a candle caught in a sudden gust. Her mind ripples with shock and confusion, the once-clear sea turning cloudy and turbulent beneath Jack’s words, and it takes her a second longer than it should to find her voice again.
"I waited until Ronin was healed," she says quietly, voice edged with stubborn pride and carefully masked hurt, her fingers twisting the edge of the letter before she slips it back into her pocket. "So that if anything went wrong—if anything happened to me, or to you—there'd be someone strong enough to help. To pull you back if you needed it." Because, contrary to Jack's opinions of her, she had thought her plan through.
Her words grow sharper as she addresses his accusations about Hadama, her shoulders straightening with an indignant huff. "Gods, he’s always like that. He’s a champion at under-promising and over-delivering—you of all people should know better than to mistake his caution for incompetence." And he'd healed her no problem, more or less.
She pauses, forcing herself to breathe, her chest tight, eyes glistening despite her best effort to keep them clear. "And yes, fine—I knew you'd be pissed. But this?" His final words pierce deeper than she expected, leaving her floundering, breathless and aching. Her aqua eyes soften, searching his face as confusion flickers openly across hers. "You told me that the alternative was being enslaved by the Family. But now you're disappointed in me for following through? For agreeing that mine or your life means anything at all if we let the Family win?"
"Jack," she murmurs, barely audible now, vulnerable and confused, voice almost pleading as she searches his face. Once more she stretches out a hand, tentative and stiff, waiting for the slap of ice against her fingers.
"I waited until Ronin was healed," she says quietly, voice edged with stubborn pride and carefully masked hurt, her fingers twisting the edge of the letter before she slips it back into her pocket. "So that if anything went wrong—if anything happened to me, or to you—there'd be someone strong enough to help. To pull you back if you needed it." Because, contrary to Jack's opinions of her, she had thought her plan through.
Her words grow sharper as she addresses his accusations about Hadama, her shoulders straightening with an indignant huff. "Gods, he’s always like that. He’s a champion at under-promising and over-delivering—you of all people should know better than to mistake his caution for incompetence." And he'd healed her no problem, more or less.
She pauses, forcing herself to breathe, her chest tight, eyes glistening despite her best effort to keep them clear. "And yes, fine—I knew you'd be pissed. But this?" His final words pierce deeper than she expected, leaving her floundering, breathless and aching. Her aqua eyes soften, searching his face as confusion flickers openly across hers. "You told me that the alternative was being enslaved by the Family. But now you're disappointed in me for following through? For agreeing that mine or your life means anything at all if we let the Family win?"
"Jack," she murmurs, barely audible now, vulnerable and confused, voice almost pleading as she searches his face. Once more she stretches out a hand, tentative and stiff, waiting for the slap of ice against her fingers.
