( she doesn't speak until after sliding one of the mugs towards him, hands holding her own close to her, letting the warmth try to guard against the chill of the air against bare skin, the cold of the kitchen floor )
It's the only one I have.
( there was no end to the nightmares, no stopping of the guilt. quill wanted only one thing, one justice but it was impossible to her. she couldn't kill anyone anymore and the one particular weapon would be out of reach even if she was free )
I make coffee and spend the time hating my captor.
( thinking of the ways she'd love to kill him or take revenge, of the things that could happen if only she could let it )
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It's the only one I have.
( there was no end to the nightmares, no stopping of the guilt. quill wanted only one thing, one justice but it was impossible to her. she couldn't kill anyone anymore and the one particular weapon would be out of reach even if she was free )
I make coffee and spend the time hating my captor.
( thinking of the ways she'd love to kill him or take revenge, of the things that could happen if only she could let it )