[ gives him Such a Look at all that like okay. stop sounding like a topsider.
but after a moment, she looks down at her drink, swirling it a little. ]
Odds are better this time. [ theoretically. she's keeping her expectations low, like always. her thought process goes through a couple of aborted ideas - like, if it doesn't work, i don't know what i'll do. if it doesn't work, i'll just wait, and hope for you to come get me. if it doesn't work, i'll...
silence, then: ]
Have to get rest tonight. For what we're jumping into tomorrow. If it goes right.
[ ha ha... ha.... this is not funny. but, yeah, the likelihood that they get out of whatever plane that magically transports them somewhere and strohl immediately resumes falling to his death is guaranteed.
still, he's got vi coming, now. they'd promised, a few weeks ago - she'd promised, made her convictions, that she'd have his back, and there's a resonating sense of trust with the apprehension, the knowledge that yes, vi has his back, so he's going to be fine. he'll take a drink after that dry quip, though, and nods at her glass. ]
Means don't hit that too much. [ though there's not a scold in it. ] Need you in tip-top shape the moment we step free.
[ the words carry confidence - so too do his emotions. i trust you. you have my back. we're going to make this work. ]
[ immediately reaches to flick the side of his head at the first bit. nyeh.
but. when he nods at her glass, she takes one more sip - and then pushes it away from her, across the bar. out of reach. for a long moment, she just stares at it. there's still liquid in it. she could've chugged the rest. but she didn't. instead, she hunches over the bar, arms folded, chin resting on top of her arms.
silence, for a moment. ]
I promised.
[ is all. she promised she'd be there, that she'd do whatever it took. and there's still something soft and grieving in her - she's still mourning the life she's leaving, a little. but it's okay. she can't picture doing anything else, at this point. ]
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but after a moment, she looks down at her drink, swirling it a little. ]
Odds are better this time. [ theoretically. she's keeping her expectations low, like always. her thought process goes through a couple of aborted ideas - like, if it doesn't work, i don't know what i'll do. if it doesn't work, i'll just wait, and hope for you to come get me. if it doesn't work, i'll...
silence, then: ]
Have to get rest tonight. For what we're jumping into tomorrow. If it goes right.
no subject
[ ha ha... ha.... this is not funny. but, yeah, the likelihood that they get out of whatever plane that magically transports them somewhere and strohl immediately resumes falling to his death is guaranteed.
still, he's got vi coming, now. they'd promised, a few weeks ago - she'd promised, made her convictions, that she'd have his back, and there's a resonating sense of trust with the apprehension, the knowledge that yes, vi has his back, so he's going to be fine. he'll take a drink after that dry quip, though, and nods at her glass. ]
Means don't hit that too much. [ though there's not a scold in it. ] Need you in tip-top shape the moment we step free.
[ the words carry confidence - so too do his emotions. i trust you. you have my back. we're going to make this work. ]
no subject
but. when he nods at her glass, she takes one more sip - and then pushes it away from her, across the bar. out of reach. for a long moment, she just stares at it. there's still liquid in it. she could've chugged the rest. but she didn't. instead, she hunches over the bar, arms folded, chin resting on top of her arms.
silence, for a moment. ]
I promised.
[ is all. she promised she'd be there, that she'd do whatever it took. and there's still something soft and grieving in her - she's still mourning the life she's leaving, a little. but it's okay. she can't picture doing anything else, at this point. ]