Han stops stirring. Flicks the spoon dry with a violent snap of her wrist. “Wouldn’t that just be rottin’ convenient.” Her eyes flash. “Like when she tied us up - tied a [i]priestess[/i] up - and threw us all naked in the brig. Or when she put us in chains and marched us gods only know how far through the jungle with legionnaires taking smacks at us when they got bored. Or how about [i]this?[/i]” She yanked her robe down to the collarbone. An angry, forked welt still stood out against her skin, encircling her neck. “They see us come out of a portal to hell, only me and Uusha get shot, and the [i]actual demons[/i] get off without a scratch?!”

Days of pampering, of spoiling, of tender, loving care had only covered up the white hot spark deep in her chest. Now, it burned, bright and free.

“Bud. C’mon. For someone who runs as tight a ship as she does, how’re there so many ‘misunderstandings?’ Why does she get off clean every time? Why do they [i]always[/i] work out exactly how she’d want them to?” She looks Lotus square in the eye. Holds her gaze, in the awkward silence that follows. 

“...well?”

(The fire in her voice falters. All that heat, and none of it directed across the table. A demand shrinks to a question.

Please, Lotus. Tell her you see what she’s saying. Tell her you don’t think she’s crazy, or paranoid, or confused, or just doesn’t get it. Don’t push her aside for a comfortable lie. Not you. Not after all you’ve been through together. Please.

Can’t you trust her over Red Wolf?)