flora
Flora has always been willing to revisit the scene of a crime, perhaps even more so now that she has the means to drag old moments back into the light whenever she pleases. So when Jack’s brows rise in challenge, she doesn’t flinch away. The thorns in her thoughts remain, tightening around anything softer, but she leans back into the booth and folds her arms across her chest as though settling in for a conversation he’d apparently convinced himself she couldn’t handle.
Jack was the one who’d given her the strategist’s mind she now relied upon, after all. He’d taught her most of what she knew about negotiations like this, which is why the curl of her lips is nearly genuine when she answers. "Oh, my mistake. I was under the impression you wanted to resume something resembling the life you led here before." The sarcasm lands smoothly as she lifts one shoulder. "There hasn’t been a single government in Torchline that you haven’t been closely embroiled with, Jack. It isn’t the slight to me that you seem to think it is that you’d rather hobble yourself than accept the situation for what it is."
The remark about Kaisel is so obviously bait that Flora merely smirks, privately pleased that Jack has been forced to stoop towards insulting her marriage when the rest of his argument begins running thin. As for the person who apparently hates her, she can only assume he means his fucking ship. "Huh." Her expression turns thoughtfully mocking. "Hating your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. Sounds like the sort of thing I’d do."
Rolling her eyes at his theatrical bow, Flora uncrosses one arm long enough to wave away the false congratulations. "The point still stands. I’d bet your immortality runs out before mine does." Whether that proves true is hardly the issue, though the notion of denying him the satisfaction of watching her age into weakness is enough to brighten the thorns in her thoughts again.
At his assessment of her offer, she only shrugs. She had genuinely believed the information would interest him, and her mind supplies flashes of it before her mouth does: the Blackfox framed against the memory of their conversation, followed by an apparently empty harbour split by the unmistakable wake of a vessel no eye could find, followed by a series of empty caches. "I’m not the one who keeps complaining about being here, am I?" One brow arches; If he’d rather continue making everything harder than it needs to be, he’s welcome to do so, but Flora isn’t going to pretend that stubbornness belongs to both of them.
Jack was the one who’d given her the strategist’s mind she now relied upon, after all. He’d taught her most of what she knew about negotiations like this, which is why the curl of her lips is nearly genuine when she answers. "Oh, my mistake. I was under the impression you wanted to resume something resembling the life you led here before." The sarcasm lands smoothly as she lifts one shoulder. "There hasn’t been a single government in Torchline that you haven’t been closely embroiled with, Jack. It isn’t the slight to me that you seem to think it is that you’d rather hobble yourself than accept the situation for what it is."
The remark about Kaisel is so obviously bait that Flora merely smirks, privately pleased that Jack has been forced to stoop towards insulting her marriage when the rest of his argument begins running thin. As for the person who apparently hates her, she can only assume he means his fucking ship. "Huh." Her expression turns thoughtfully mocking. "Hating your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. Sounds like the sort of thing I’d do."
Rolling her eyes at his theatrical bow, Flora uncrosses one arm long enough to wave away the false congratulations. "The point still stands. I’d bet your immortality runs out before mine does." Whether that proves true is hardly the issue, though the notion of denying him the satisfaction of watching her age into weakness is enough to brighten the thorns in her thoughts again.
At his assessment of her offer, she only shrugs. She had genuinely believed the information would interest him, and her mind supplies flashes of it before her mouth does: the Blackfox framed against the memory of their conversation, followed by an apparently empty harbour split by the unmistakable wake of a vessel no eye could find, followed by a series of empty caches. "I’m not the one who keeps complaining about being here, am I?" One brow arches; If he’d rather continue making everything harder than it needs to be, he’s welcome to do so, but Flora isn’t going to pretend that stubbornness belongs to both of them.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
