A pause wedged itself between his question and her answer, its brief span somehow lasting enough to feel the full discomfort of the gulf between them.[break][break]

"Hope? No," she replied flatly, shaking her head. "I hope for no particular outcome. I merely ask because I wish to know."[break][break]

Betrayal burned in her heart too, for she nursed a quiet hurt and woundedness at how their last encounters had transpired.[break][break]

How entitled he'd been to know all she'd been through, despite how swiftly he'd turned on her in the Cave of Origin. How presumptuous all of them had been when it came to that Ruinous Beast, as if any of them truly understood what they were dealing with.[break][break]

She'd wanted to kill Jayden that day because she'd understood that encounter in a way no one else did. In the end, they'd all prolonged his suffering by chaining him to a far crueler fate.[break][break]

Murder would have been a mercy.[break][break]

A coolness entered her voice as she shrugged, arms wrapping around herself while she averted his gaze.[break][break]

"You could say how the organization treats its Ruinous Avatars is of special interest to me. That is all."

[attr="class","ooc"]Cillian Quinn[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

"He wasn't its Avatar yet. But that evil is done, and there's no undoing it."[break][break]

Ruinous Beasts did not let their chosen vessels die quietly. At least, hers hadn't. Though she couldn't remember the specifics of the events in that olden Galar, that distant revelation remained: she had not been allowed to even consider the end of her own existence.[break][break]

His question earned a pointed look from her. Her defensive posture only tightened, as did the hardness in her own expression as her lips pursed.[break][break]

"At present? You are evading my question and accusing me of ill motives. That, I think, answers your question well enough."[break][break]

The unspoken implication reflected in the sharpness of her eyes: I am not someone to be trusted, but endured until I outlive my usefulness.[break][break]

She remained convinced of this truth.

[attr="class","ooc"]Cillian Quinn[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

'Friend.' 'Family.'[break][break]

How naive she'd once been, to believe it when people called fellow Rockets both of those things.[break][break]

How pathetic she'd been to ever believe the same.[break][break]

"No need for dramatics, Cillian," she scoffed, an exaggerated roll of her eyes accompanying a casual lean against the wall. The vehemence laced in his restraint irritated her for its self-righteousness. "We interpreted our orders differently. Hold that against me if you like."[break][break]

An impulsive spitefulness took hold of her then, and a sneering derision crawled out of her as her eyes cut to his.[break][break]

"But I'd think you, more than anyone else, would understand that you can't rely on 'family.'"

[attr="class","ooc"]Cillian Quinn[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

"I would say I am not the one flinging insults at present, no. But you're entitled to your view."[break][break]

His vitriol fell on deaf ears; part of her thrived on this, the vindication that she was hated as much as she believed she was. It was proof that love and friendship were not unconditional. It was proof she was, as she privately suspected, a person who could only be loved when she wasn't fully understood.[break][break]

To be resented nourished her. It satisfied her own warped world-view in a twisted, gratifying way.[break][break]

Where did that Ouroboros of grudges start and end: with the mortal vessel brimming with sin, or the deity that had chosen her for it?[break][break]

She interpreted his response as condescension, and her eyes narrowed further in response, accusatory in their gleam.[break][break]

"Enlighten me, though. How might you have 'helped' me, hm?"[break][break]

In what way did he imagine her to be broken?

[attr="class","ooc"]Cillian Quinn[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

"I don't think you believe that."[break][break]

Her answer was strangely calm as he sneered down at her, as if contented by reaffirmation of his displeasure. Confrontation was more palatable to her than reconciliation.[break][break]

She'd become numb to scorn and derision. Those emotions possessed the comfort of a worn-out blanket, something she could wrap herself in to make sense of the world.[break][break]

"If you blamed Wo-chien for what I am, you wouldn't hate me. You'd pity me."[break][break]

Pity would be worse, she knew. Pity would infuriate her. Far better to be despised, always.[break][break]

"I think you know this is who I am," she said bluntly, making no move to counteract the assumption as she stared at him, unblinking. "That's why you're so angry, Quinn. Because you were wrong about me."[break][break]

And perhaps by extension, he was wrong about jayden cross, too.[break][break]

"I was never the blind one here."

[attr="class","ooc"]Cillian Quinn[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

"Oh? And yet you tell me what I am. What I've become."[break][break]

How nice it must be, to be perceived the 'sane' one. She'd wondered, often, what his Avatarship might be like for him. Lugia had never seemed the tormentor Wo-chien relished in being, or the silent puppeteer that she so often feared Tapu Fini to be.[break][break]

That envious thought, combined with the pity, threatened to overwhelm her.[break][break]

Becoming a spectacle had been a common occurrence for her during her marriage, and so to be one now didn't bring on that same sense of shame and humiliation she knew it ought to. Her position as an underboss demanded a certain level of civility and rapport with her peers.[break][break]

Feigning that composure dragged out the old resentment of playing the 'good wife' to a man who'd never been good to her. All of her being screamed at this in silent protest, furious at being constrained by games of decorum.[break][break]

Being the mad woman had been more enjoyable than being the good wife. A dark voice, one that wasn't quite her own, whispered that this was no different: the mad woman knew more freedom than the 'good underboss' he wanted her to be.[break][break]

"You think you know me, and you think you know Cross," she said at length, letting her gaze sweep the halls before finding her fellow underboss again. "But you're right about one thing: no one ever really knows another person, Cillian. Best we stop pretending we know one another, then."[break][break]

Assuming he'd have no desire to speak with her further, she began to depart his company. The thinnest sense of self-consciousness returned to her as the secretary's typing resumed.

[attr="class","ooc"]Cillian Quinn[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]