sunnydalealum (
sunnydalealum) wrote2009-05-21 10:57 pm
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There aren't any guards posted outside the doors of these rooms, just a single sentry at the end of the hall, and the doors themselves aren't locked. The three young women in the rooms are in a position somewhere between house arrest and honorable parole.
Jordie's in the second room on the right.
Jordie's in the second room on the right.
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Just before he reaches the door: "I didn't use the wristblades."
It's abrupt, and shaky, and sounds close to tears.
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"Sorry for that."
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Just a kid, that's what he thinks. Irresponsible. Wrapped up in self-righteousness. Nothing but a disappointment. Or an embarrassment --
He kissed me back, that last time. He did --
So what? You knew that was goodbye. Nothing's changed.
The tears are back, but this time she turns her back before he can see them fall.
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"Think you did a bad thing, lass." gruff, but honest, "But don't think you're a bad person. You can grow past it. Not the end of the world this time."
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A shudder passes through her, and she doesn't move at all.
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"You should go."
It comes out unsteady and strained and not as loud as she'd like, barely a squeak ... but it comes out.
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"Be at your trial if they let me." he says quietly.
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(She has to admit it now, to herself if nobody else: she's scared.)
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