"Huh."

She didn't know that. She didn't know.. anything about him at all.

He makes a jab at her appetite and she smirks half-heartedly, shaking her head and tching softly under her breath. Stormy watches him briefly, unsure wha to do with herself without being prompted, until he gestures to the fridge. Her gaze follows his jutting chin, and she hooks her fingers around the fridge door and gives a sharp tug.

"... Oh wow."

A flood of nostalgia hits her hard like a punch to the gut. The drinks in the fridge are in no particular pattern or are at all unique or fancy. But they are painfully familiar, a relic of a past when four walls and a roof hadn't felt so suffocating. The woman reaches for one of the bottles of cold soda, running her thumb against the label.

"I didn't know they even still made these."

MATIAS SILPH

☉

"Hm."

The inflection is light, thoughtful, with the hint of a smile. She holds the bottle a little tighter to her chest, fond memories creeping up to put her in a good mood.

"Oh, right, yeah. You're dating Dr. Morales."

Had she preferred Eva? It was too late now.

"We've sort of already met, at parties and stuff. She seems really nice."

MATIAS SILPH

☉

Stormy offers a small smile. She's happy for him, genuinely, but the reminder of his happy home and healthy relationship only drives the knife deeper into her own. She quells the envy and the bitterness, letting her attention skate across the various condiments.

"Sure. I'd like that."

Stormy glances up to meet him, warm red eyes meeting his with a weak glimmer of amusement at his question.

"I do, but damn, don't skimp on the meat. Pack it in there, Matty."

She intercepts his plating to scoop more protein into the shells before he can add anything else. If sauce slops on her fingers, she doesn't hesitate to lift them to her mouth to taste test and continue.

MATIAS SILPH

☉

Stormy helps herself to a taco or two extra, unthinking as she piles her plate. Her stomach growls in protest both because she knew she'd probably regret all of the meat- and because, as she glances over at her brother's, she notes how heaping hers is in comparison. He apologizes for skimping, but now Stormy feels like a glutton in comparison.

He moves on first, drink and plate in hand, to settle on the couch. She rounds the other side of the couch but chooses a seat apart from him, setting her drink on a side-table on a coaster.

"I'm sure it's great, Matias. Relax."

She twists the cap off of her drink, watches it fizz, and sets it back down.

MATIAS SILPH

☉

You really can't go wrong with tacos. Unless you seriously overcook the meat.

Her own first bite is good, followed by a sigh and relaxed shoulders. Evidently, she's enjoying herself.

"Someone interesting?"

She pays little mind to his words, parroting them for the sake of being polite. Her attention is on the tacos, with one thumb quickly rising to dab away spilled salsa and grease.

MATIAS SILPH

☉

The name doesn't ring a bell, and she doesn't offer any reaction other than pursed lips and an indifferent shrug until he elaborates. And when he does, she glances at him and slow-blinks.

"A twin?" she scoffs, face pinching into a disbelieving, amused and unattractive expression temporarily.

And then she realizes he's being serious.

"I don't have a twin. I would know."

She'd looked into her birth mother more recently. There had been no mention of a second child put up for adoption-- just her.

MATIAS SILPH

☉