you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until Koa speaks again, and only then does it leave her in a slow, careful exhale. She steals glances at him when he isn’t looking—tracing the curve of his jaw, the dark, earnest set of his brows, the way the lamplight catches against the edges of his lashes.
"My plan..." Flora trails off, shoulders rising in a helpless shrug as she tries—and fails—to summon the words that would make everything seem less devastating than it is. "I mean, technically, yeah," she murmurs, brushing a curl behind her ear just for something to do with her hands, needing a distraction from the sudden tightness in her chest. "Haulani will be safe." The words are steady enough, carefully measured, but her tone betrays the frayed edges beneath. She bites the inside of her cheek, gaze dipping briefly to the ground, because how can she tell him that the sanctuary cost her everything without sounding selfish or weak?
"It also..." she starts again, quieter this time, her voice nearly lost beneath the steady hum of the bar. "It cost more than I expected." It had blown her life to smithereens. It had left Sohalia angry, Hadama furious, and Jack—Jack had walked away entirely, casting her aside like a sun-bleached sail that had finally outlived its usefulness. Flora had lost her home, her bar, her sense of security. She had lost the man she'd chosen, and now she stood before the man she hadn't, feeling the sting of that decision sharper than ever. Flora’s throat tightens dangerously, but she swallows it down, blinking rapidly to clear the mistiness from her eyes. She doesn’t want Koa’s pity, doesn’t want to lay this at his feet when he's already carried so much for her, but gods, she’s tired, and he's always been too good at playing the knight in shining armour. "But I mean, who am I when compared with my entire region, right?"
His question about the Family draws a bitter, humourless laugh from her, brief and quiet. "Nothing beyond the broadcast," she says, shaking her head slowly. "And hopefully it'll stay that way, as long as I don't break my side of the bargain. Dahlia seems twisted enough to actually keep her word, if only because she likes seeing me suffer." Flora tries for levity, but her voice falters halfway through, the joke landing hollowly between them as she glances down at her hands as if expecting to see the shards of glass that the Reaper had forced her to clean up sparkling there in her palms.
She shifts her weight, feeling suddenly and painfully aware of how close they are to slipping back into the dangerous familiarity they've always shared. Every moment she lingers makes leaving that much harder, and yet the thought of stepping away feels impossible. Her fingers flex against the edge of the table, betraying her desire to reach out—to touch him, to anchor herself to something solid and real. Instead, she forces herself to take a step back, creating a small but deliberate distance between them.
"I, uh..." Flora's voice wavers, catching on words she can't quite form. "I should go." But she doesn't move immediately, her gaze still searching his face as though she might find an answer to questions she's too afraid to ask. "It was really good to see you, though," she finally whispers, knowing the truth of it will hurt him just as much as it does her, but thinking he was owed at least one truth not veiled behind layers of doublemeanings.
"My plan..." Flora trails off, shoulders rising in a helpless shrug as she tries—and fails—to summon the words that would make everything seem less devastating than it is. "I mean, technically, yeah," she murmurs, brushing a curl behind her ear just for something to do with her hands, needing a distraction from the sudden tightness in her chest. "Haulani will be safe." The words are steady enough, carefully measured, but her tone betrays the frayed edges beneath. She bites the inside of her cheek, gaze dipping briefly to the ground, because how can she tell him that the sanctuary cost her everything without sounding selfish or weak?
"It also..." she starts again, quieter this time, her voice nearly lost beneath the steady hum of the bar. "It cost more than I expected." It had blown her life to smithereens. It had left Sohalia angry, Hadama furious, and Jack—Jack had walked away entirely, casting her aside like a sun-bleached sail that had finally outlived its usefulness. Flora had lost her home, her bar, her sense of security. She had lost the man she'd chosen, and now she stood before the man she hadn't, feeling the sting of that decision sharper than ever. Flora’s throat tightens dangerously, but she swallows it down, blinking rapidly to clear the mistiness from her eyes. She doesn’t want Koa’s pity, doesn’t want to lay this at his feet when he's already carried so much for her, but gods, she’s tired, and he's always been too good at playing the knight in shining armour. "But I mean, who am I when compared with my entire region, right?"
His question about the Family draws a bitter, humourless laugh from her, brief and quiet. "Nothing beyond the broadcast," she says, shaking her head slowly. "And hopefully it'll stay that way, as long as I don't break my side of the bargain. Dahlia seems twisted enough to actually keep her word, if only because she likes seeing me suffer." Flora tries for levity, but her voice falters halfway through, the joke landing hollowly between them as she glances down at her hands as if expecting to see the shards of glass that the Reaper had forced her to clean up sparkling there in her palms.
She shifts her weight, feeling suddenly and painfully aware of how close they are to slipping back into the dangerous familiarity they've always shared. Every moment she lingers makes leaving that much harder, and yet the thought of stepping away feels impossible. Her fingers flex against the edge of the table, betraying her desire to reach out—to touch him, to anchor herself to something solid and real. Instead, she forces herself to take a step back, creating a small but deliberate distance between them.
"I, uh..." Flora's voice wavers, catching on words she can't quite form. "I should go." But she doesn't move immediately, her gaze still searching his face as though she might find an answer to questions she's too afraid to ask. "It was really good to see you, though," she finally whispers, knowing the truth of it will hurt him just as much as it does her, but thinking he was owed at least one truth not veiled behind layers of doublemeanings.
