[attr="class","mila2"] Did she?

[break][break] Heart stuttering in her chest like a trembling hummingbird, Mila's inner mind warred both with the temptation to know what he meant, to push him further and further until he eventually cracked, and the terrifying fear of actually hearing those very things said allowed. Because hearing them outloud would make them real, and making them real meant that she would lose them one day eventually.

[break][break] Her mouth opened and she wasn't prepared for what she would say —

[break][break] Only to find out that he was swerving the topic into another question.

[break][break] The feeling that she experienced then was hard to explain, somewhere half-way between disappointment and relief, and her words cut on her tongue like the taste of fresh blood.

[break][break] She could still see herself standing protectively in front of lykaios athanasia, as they hid in a corner in their small Rustboro apartment, hiding from the wrath of Ambrois Alexopoulos.

[break][break] "I was born into it," she said, swallowing, clutching his shirt.

[break][break] Many Rockets were. Some of course weaseled their way into it, craving ambition and power. Her father had likely been such a creature. But so many others were simply collateral, an example forged into the malevolent organization that was the League's longest enemy.

[break][break] She focused on the feeling of his muscles beneath her fingers as she ran her hands across the thin fabric of his hospital gown, ghosting shapes along his abs.

[break][break] "My father was -" Her voice hitched. "Not a kind man."

[break]

[attr="class","ooc"] Gunner Graves [break]
POST-TSDT

☉

[attr="class","mila2"] Her father. Mila's past was a ghost she rarely summoned, buried so deep by her relentless will. She spoke of her father even less, almost as if she feared that the mere mention of even his name might summon the monster that she had tried so desperately to forget.

[break][break] Gunner's lips brushed gently against her hair, and she closed her eyes, savoring the moment, as if his touch could calm the anxieties that threatened to tear her apart.

[break][break] She wanted to believe him. She did. And yet, somehow, some deep part of her remained unable to —

[break][break] "I know that," she mumbled. You don't know that. You can't. You don't know what he did. "I know that, but it's just ... "

[break][break] Whatever confession she had been about to make remained unspoken as they were abruptly interrupted. At the sudden sound, Mila's head snapped toward the hospital room's entrance, where she found a very unhappy nurse. Seeing the woman's displeased expression, Mila felt a surge of anger rising within her. She opened her mouth for a sharp rebuttal, but it was Gunner, gently disentangling himself and speaking in a calm voice, that made her pause.

[break][break] Reluctantly, she agreed. Gunner needed his rest, after all. This could wait later.

[break][break] "Fine," she said briskly, sliding off the bed and then smoothing her hands against her clothes so that she was presentable.

[break][break] Mila sent a pointed glare at the nurse before moving to exit the room. Before she did, though, a manicured hand rested against the doorframe.

[break][break] "I'll send you a text later. To give you something to look forward to before your next visitation."

[attr="class","ooc"] Gunner Graves [break]
POST-TSDT

☉