i could be the reason you can't sleep at night
Flora watches Colt take it in, the thanks, the refusal, the careful reshaping of the blade like that might be the only thing in reach that still listens when she tells it what to do. There’s something in that the queen recognizes too easily, something that sits uncomfortably against the weight of everything she could offer, the quiet, stubborn understanding that not everything broken wants to be handed back whole by someone else. It leaves her a little off-balance, like stepping onto a boat that shifts just enough underfoot to remind her she doesn’t quite control this.
Her mouth quirks anyway, because that’s what she does with discomfort, smoothing it into something lighter even when it doesn’t quite hold. "Fireproof magical ranch?" she offers, the suggestion tossed out with a crooked grin that doesn’t even try to sell itself as practical, her brows lifting slightly as if she knows exactly how flimsy it sounds before the words have even fully landed. She exhales a soft breath through her nose a second later, the humour easing off as Colt continues, the reality of it settling heavier the more it’s laid out. The numbers, the time, the effort, it stacks in a way that doesn’t leave many gaps for optimism to squeeze through, and Flora’s gaze drifts briefly down to the blade again, following the careful correction of the edge before lifting back up.
"Yeah," she murmurs, quieter now, her head tilting slightly as she considers it, as if turning the shape of Colt’s future over in her mind might somehow make it easier to hold. "That...sounds like a bitch, honestly." Her lips press together for a second, then loosen again as something else surfaces, not quite offered, not quite held back. "When my twin died," she says, the words slipping out more casually than the weight of them really deserves, easier now that Enzo was back from the dead, "and I lost the bid for Queen the first time.." she pauses, not searching for the words so much as choosing how much of them to let out, "I pivoted. Did something completely different for a while." There’s the faintest twist of her mouth, something that isn’t quite a smile but isn’t far from it either. "It didn’t make it hurt less. That part just...stays, for a bit. But having something else to pour myself into helped. A lot, actually."
She shifts her weight again, gold glinting as her hand settles loosely against her hip, Spice adjusting along her shoulders with a quiet rustle. "In the long run, I was better for it than if I’d just kept throwing myself at the same wall and hoping it’d move." Flora exhales softly, her expression tightening just a fraction as she looks back at Colt properly. "It all still really sucks, though," she adds, plainly, no polish to it this time, no attempt to soften the edges of the truth. "Do you have anything in mind? For what ‘something new’ could look like?"
Her mouth quirks anyway, because that’s what she does with discomfort, smoothing it into something lighter even when it doesn’t quite hold. "Fireproof magical ranch?" she offers, the suggestion tossed out with a crooked grin that doesn’t even try to sell itself as practical, her brows lifting slightly as if she knows exactly how flimsy it sounds before the words have even fully landed. She exhales a soft breath through her nose a second later, the humour easing off as Colt continues, the reality of it settling heavier the more it’s laid out. The numbers, the time, the effort, it stacks in a way that doesn’t leave many gaps for optimism to squeeze through, and Flora’s gaze drifts briefly down to the blade again, following the careful correction of the edge before lifting back up.
"Yeah," she murmurs, quieter now, her head tilting slightly as she considers it, as if turning the shape of Colt’s future over in her mind might somehow make it easier to hold. "That...sounds like a bitch, honestly." Her lips press together for a second, then loosen again as something else surfaces, not quite offered, not quite held back. "When my twin died," she says, the words slipping out more casually than the weight of them really deserves, easier now that Enzo was back from the dead, "and I lost the bid for Queen the first time.." she pauses, not searching for the words so much as choosing how much of them to let out, "I pivoted. Did something completely different for a while." There’s the faintest twist of her mouth, something that isn’t quite a smile but isn’t far from it either. "It didn’t make it hurt less. That part just...stays, for a bit. But having something else to pour myself into helped. A lot, actually."
She shifts her weight again, gold glinting as her hand settles loosely against her hip, Spice adjusting along her shoulders with a quiet rustle. "In the long run, I was better for it than if I’d just kept throwing myself at the same wall and hoping it’d move." Flora exhales softly, her expression tightening just a fraction as she looks back at Colt properly. "It all still really sucks, though," she adds, plainly, no polish to it this time, no attempt to soften the edges of the truth. "Do you have anything in mind? For what ‘something new’ could look like?"
