[She wrinkles her nose a little.] I don't know, I'm pretty good at yelling at people.
[The thought of curling up against him, of letting her guard down a bit more occurs to her, yet she remains focused on the piano. Again, she stops. She spreads both of her hands across the keys, mentally flipping through the songs she knows she can play. The tune changes to something more upbeat, something more modern, as she bobs her head slightly in time.
Some people know the facts of her world. A few even know what she thinks of it, and how she's running from it. There's so much she wants to tell him, but she keeps stopping herself short. His opinion won't change of her, she knows, but the fear still preys on her mind: what if he does change? What would he think of her if she said to him that all she is really is a girl scared of herself and unsure of what to do next? She doesn't think herself brave, and kind isn't a word she'd use for herself either lately, not with what she'd become back home. So many people had so much faith in her, but what if she failed them all? The pressure of being... whatever they wanted her to be, or whatever they thought of her, weighed heavily on her.
Faith, in short, had run out long ago for her. Now, she doesn't know what to do with it.]
People thought of me as a weapon back home.
[Her eyes flicker. He didn't come here to listen to her grievances. She shoots him a crooked grin as she keeps playing.] But that's for another day. We're here to fix your dancing. Think you can handle it?
no subject
[The thought of curling up against him, of letting her guard down a bit more occurs to her, yet she remains focused on the piano. Again, she stops. She spreads both of her hands across the keys, mentally flipping through the songs she knows she can play. The tune changes to something more upbeat, something more modern, as she bobs her head slightly in time.
Some people know the facts of her world. A few even know what she thinks of it, and how she's running from it. There's so much she wants to tell him, but she keeps stopping herself short. His opinion won't change of her, she knows, but the fear still preys on her mind: what if he does change? What would he think of her if she said to him that all she is really is a girl scared of herself and unsure of what to do next? She doesn't think herself brave, and kind isn't a word she'd use for herself either lately, not with what she'd become back home. So many people had so much faith in her, but what if she failed them all? The pressure of being... whatever they wanted her to be, or whatever they thought of her, weighed heavily on her.
Faith, in short, had run out long ago for her. Now, she doesn't know what to do with it.]
People thought of me as a weapon back home.
[Her eyes flicker. He didn't come here to listen to her grievances. She shoots him a crooked grin as she keeps playing.] But that's for another day. We're here to fix your dancing. Think you can handle it?