[She opens her mouth to respond--the sky is blue, violet, black, her partner extends out a tendril and pats their blobbish son on the head, smiling. "Good job in the game today, kiddo. You really showed them how to play xxybzzpit!"--and closes it again, focusing instead on the scent of the tea for a long minute.
There's a long, drawn-out sigh as she releases her grip on the counter, pouring the steeped tea into two cups quietly. Finally:]
Me, too.
[It's candid. She was used to expressing honestly, wearing her heart on her sleeve for much of her personal interactions. She just didn't have much to hide.
But it was the difference between someone going through your cabin with permission and forewarning, versus a surprise inspection. Every time, you lost a little bit of privacy, a little bit of yourself. You didn't change, not really—you were just left feeling wrung out, a little angry, even if nothing of interest was discovered.
That Chara could understand that to the same depths as she could—well.
Taking up a mug in each hand, she makes no efforts to conceal her mental promises to anyone who would consider trying further with them—a protective blast shield, physically and mentally, razor-sharp on the outside, cotton warmth within.
Shepard slides on to the couch, holding out the mug by the sides, handle free towards them. If it's hot, she's not showing it.]
Here.
Tell me what you think.
[For a moment, there's a hopeful nervous aura of emotional feedback--as if waiting for judgement on her decisions.]
no subject
There's a long, drawn-out sigh as she releases her grip on the counter, pouring the steeped tea into two cups quietly. Finally:]
Me, too.
[It's candid. She was used to expressing honestly, wearing her heart on her sleeve for much of her personal interactions. She just didn't have much to hide.
But it was the difference between someone going through your cabin with permission and forewarning, versus a surprise inspection. Every time, you lost a little bit of privacy, a little bit of yourself. You didn't change, not really—you were just left feeling wrung out, a little angry, even if nothing of interest was discovered.
That Chara could understand that to the same depths as she could—well.
Taking up a mug in each hand, she makes no efforts to conceal her mental promises to anyone who would consider trying further with them—a protective blast shield, physically and mentally, razor-sharp on the outside, cotton warmth within.
Shepard slides on to the couch, holding out the mug by the sides, handle free towards them. If it's hot, she's not showing it.]
Here.
Tell me what you think.
[For a moment, there's a hopeful nervous aura of emotional feedback--as if waiting for judgement on her decisions.]