[ If she had any sense of dominance, that would slip off the pedestal at his question. It isn't instantaneous. She doesn't rear up like she was struck and needs to drive back. At first there's not much recollection, save for some past Hornet talk, but what would that have to do with this? Nothing. She needs to consider context, and with that, it only takes her several moments longer than normal to find the memory bank. It was long enough ago, another life in actuality, that she's had no reason to consciously think about it...until now.
Her own realization doesn't result in collapsed walls, but the forging of more. Absolutely everything changes in how she appraises him, in ways that only the sharp can spot. If her posture had been particular before, that was merely a courtesy. She is poised, and her process is considering entirely new outcomes in this entanglement. Will, why did you have to ask that? She resists the urge to grip the counter, not for support, but to be that much closer to the drawer. No need to be so dramatic here. The threats are not the same, are they?
She can remember another time when they sat in a kitchen and asked if apologies were necessary. He had said no, but there had been more he hasn't said. How much more? She hadn't thought this. What does he know beyond this word? Is he asking out of sincere curiosity, or is he testing how much more she'll lie? No apologies needed. ]
How?
[ The fair in January? Freddie? Someone else? Does it matter? Yes it does. Nobody else here should recognize that code in relation to her. Not John Watson, not Sherlock Holmes, not Will Graham. ]
It's— [ She's flustered, and that isn't a comfortable feeling, every nerve prickling beneath her skin, urging her to strike out in defense. Fond regard keeps it from becoming more than an urge. ] It's nothing to do with me anymore.
I didn't kill her. I never hurt her. This was a means.
[ He must know that like Chilton knew it, but mentioning bluebird has made her throat dry and her heart race. Otherwise, there's no unnecessary movement; no hitch to her breath or darting glances. Responding without really answering, did she hope to be better than that? Does he hope her to be? ]
no subject
Her own realization doesn't result in collapsed walls, but the forging of more. Absolutely everything changes in how she appraises him, in ways that only the sharp can spot. If her posture had been particular before, that was merely a courtesy. She is poised, and her process is considering entirely new outcomes in this entanglement. Will, why did you have to ask that? She resists the urge to grip the counter, not for support, but to be that much closer to the drawer. No need to be so dramatic here. The threats are not the same, are they?
She can remember another time when they sat in a kitchen and asked if apologies were necessary. He had said no, but there had been more he hasn't said. How much more? She hadn't thought this. What does he know beyond this word? Is he asking out of sincere curiosity, or is he testing how much more she'll lie? No apologies needed. ]
How?
[ The fair in January? Freddie? Someone else? Does it matter? Yes it does. Nobody else here should recognize that code in relation to her. Not John Watson, not Sherlock Holmes, not Will Graham. ]
It's— [ She's flustered, and that isn't a comfortable feeling, every nerve prickling beneath her skin, urging her to strike out in defense. Fond regard keeps it from becoming more than an urge. ] It's nothing to do with me anymore.
I didn't kill her. I never hurt her. This was a means.
[ He must know that like Chilton knew it, but mentioning bluebird has made her throat dry and her heart race. Otherwise, there's no unnecessary movement; no hitch to her breath or darting glances. Responding without really answering, did she hope to be better than that? Does he hope her to be? ]