[ so far, no one's really come to talk to daisy about the why of the whole scenario. they know how, but... well. she imagines people are probably drawing their own conclusions on her by now. ]
a little sore, mostly. i'll be fine in the morning. what'd you hear?
[illya's more than happy to give prompto and daisy room to converse. it's a small favor, but it clears up a lot of breathing room for when prompto takes a seat on the arm of one of the couches. arms cross, expression unreadable, he struggles to find the words at first.]
[he didn't want to bring any of this up during dinner, but it weighs on him heavy.]
I don't wanna be angry at you.
[...but he kinda is. and that's how he's going to start.]
[ she's been on couchrest since damian bridal carried her home. first out of exhaustion, then out of illya's own stubborn insistence, demanding that she take it easy for at least the rest of the day before getting up and acting like everything was fine. and, at first, that had been fine. she'd gotten a desperately needed nap in for a few hours, tooled around with some of the notes she and johnny had put together, watched stupid television — anything to take her mind off the conversations she'd had with markus and strange before dinner.
about how prompto hadn't been hurt at all, not really. about how she'd gone in guns blazing out of unnecessary devotion, how she'd done exactly what she'd fought with illya about doing on her behalf for someone else. how stupid and reckless she'd been.
approaching him, daisy realizes now, was a bit much. but she doesn't begrudge herself trying to end the fight once it had gotten out of hand, and she knows if she hadn't knocked kovacs out, she would have ended up much worse off. maybe no one else realizes that his ability could be lethal, but she'd recognized the sensation too quickly to be anything but overly cautious.
but that doesn't mean she's going to grovel for forgiveness, either. ]
Then don't be.
[ it's not said to be harsh, but she's tired. physically exhausted, if not visibly injured. it's been a day. ]
[ what's that noise coming from the other side of the living room, daisy? is it jyn hurling a potted plant against the wall in her closet with an angry shriek? that is what is sounds like for sure, easily carrying through the open door of her room.
and that is exactly what happened because jyn is sitting on the floor in her closet with a shattered pot and the sad remains of a proposition cactus on the other side of the small, dim room. ]
[ when posts go up on the network, daisy usually watches them. she doesn't always contribute — doesn't always want to publicly call out her own opinions, not when being anonymous isn't an option — but she almost always reads.
she's watching one thread in particular when the sound of woman-on-plant violence echoes out through the apartment. ]
[ is it bad that she only realizes this is a misfire in context of other misfires? because prompto would be the kind of person to randomly ask someone about milk... ]
if you need an iron stomach, ask jyn she'll eat anything
[ it still feels strange to sit down and actually eat lunch in the middle of a work day. the mutant underground did not have scheduled lunch times. sometimes, they didn't even have food to have a lunch with.
sometimes, he eats alone but most of the time, he finds jyn and sits down with her. they don't always talk but there's at least some comfort in the other's presence. ]
a lot of times jyn goes to eat in the park with cassian or even at home with cassian -- their apartment is within walking distance -- but when she is lazy, she eats out in the building's courtyard, in the shadow of the "rocket ship" building. she has never seen a ship shaped like that. ]
[ he doesn't get to hear the exhale of relief that comes as a result of the news, but it's there. she excuses herself from work, in the hopes that "getting more caf" gives her an excuse to pace a little down the halls. ]
i'm sorry i couldn't be there.
[ she does crack the faintest smile at the compliment. ]
i might be taking commissions soon. keep that one, maybe get something new? it's almost christmas.
[ what's a better holiday present than a murder stick? ]
[ she's furious, more than anything else. angry at the universe from tearing her away from the people she cares about the most, angry at zerzura for trying to manipulate her into a life she doesn't want, angry at herself for falling for it when she knows better.
she sends bobbi a picture of her current project: scrap metal in heaps, various small appliances torn to shreds by her displaced ability, the beginnings of what looks like it might eventually resemble a smith and wesson m&p handgun in the middle of it. ]
i never thought i would miss the firing range so much
[ but it would feel good to shoot a target right about now. more than good. so daisy's going to make it happen. ]
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