i'd wipe the dirt off your name with the shirt off my back
Flora keeps her glass resting on the bar, the condensation sliding down her fingers while she watches Sohalia fight to stay composed. When she does speak, her voice is low and steady—no gloss, no punch-lines, just the truth between friends. "First things first: Koa’s an idiot." She lets that sit a beat, then shakes her head. "A good man, sure. Brave. Heart big enough to trip over. But still an idiot. And, Soh, you’ve always known that. Doesn’t make the hurt smaller, but maybe don’t hold it against him that he’s being exactly who he’s always been—panics, runs, promises, panics again."
The mention of Vox draws a clipped groan from her. "I heard that broadcast too. If it helps at all, coming from someone who’s had void in her veins—Noe isn’t in danger, and honestly, Vox probably really does like her."
She exhales, the sound rough. "But holding Jude over your head? That’s bullshit. We have all made mistakes since then. Gods, you’ve heard my highlight reel. If he can’t look you in the eye and see the woman you are now instead of the girl who split her heart in two back then, that’s on him. Not you."
The mention of Vox draws a clipped groan from her. "I heard that broadcast too. If it helps at all, coming from someone who’s had void in her veins—Noe isn’t in danger, and honestly, Vox probably really does like her."
She exhales, the sound rough. "But holding Jude over your head? That’s bullshit. We have all made mistakes since then. Gods, you’ve heard my highlight reel. If he can’t look you in the eye and see the woman you are now instead of the girl who split her heart in two back then, that’s on him. Not you."
