“[color=gray]I told you, I appreciate the position you’re in, Minister Toussaint. Losing a national idol isn’t easy.[/color]”

“Losing Abroix isn’t the problem, [i]miss[/i] Darroh. Losing him with ministerial reviews so close is tantamount to [i]murdering[/i] my career.”

Besca took the phone away to breathe, and swallow down the urge to scream at the man on the other end. “[color=gray]If you’re looking for a murder charge, Jaime, that’s all well and good. But you’ve got the wrong subject. Maybe take another look at the evidence I sent you, and then you tell me who should be on the block for what happened in Hovvi?[/color]”

“He ran. From a situation [i]you[/i] failed to prepare him for.”

“[color=gray]Killing civilians, RISC personnel, and [i]pilot[/i],[/color] she hissed. “[color=gray]You think Abroix’s death is killing your career? What do you think happens if that footage goes public? My predecessor ordered it seized, not me—I’m under no obligation to hold it, and frankly, if I don’t, you can expect the Runan people to be demanding repayment from [i]Casoban[/i].”[/color]

There was silence, and if anger weren’t burgeoning within her, she might have let herself feel smug. Eventually Toussaint spoke again, his voice thin and frustrated. 

“Your [i]predecessor[/i],” he said. “Understood the nature of our relationship. He understood how tenuous the ties between our countries are grown.”

“[color=gray]What? What do you mean ‘[i]tenuous[/i]’?[/color]

“I mean that Westwel was fifteen years ago, commander. The sentiment of international unity between us is beginning to [i]wear[/i]. Eusero has been pushing for partnership for years, and while miss St. Senn’s abilities have been keeping our support exclusive, more and more the common citizen is starting to wonder what an affluent nation like Eusero could do for them. Our Savior programs being so interlinked will prevent that, but what do you think happens if I’m replaced with someone who [i]doesn’t[/i] value our relationship?

“So go ahead, commander Darroh, release the footage. When the dwindling love between our people turns to fury overnight, see where that leaves you.”

It was Besca’s turn to be silent, and Toussaint gave her the same courtesy to let her find her bearings. It took some time. 

“[color=gray]We can’t repay you for [i]Magnifique[/i]. We’re crippled, we just can’t.[/color]”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“[color=gray]So you need to think of something else.[/color]”

A pause, then. “I’m sorry?”

“[color=gray]Think of something else,[/color]” she said. “[color=gray]Something else we can do to reaffirm things.[/color]”

There was a shout in the next room—Quinn? It was. She was starting to learn to recognize the sound of her screams. 

“Well what in the world would you suggest?”

“[color=gray]I don’t—uhm, what? It’s your fucking country, Toussaint, figure it out.[/color]”

A thud, heavy, frantic footsteps. Her door flew open and Quinn came barreling in, so fast she carried on right past her and into the wall. 

“[color=gray]Quinn![/color]”

“Quinn? Commander, who—”

[i]“[COLOR=FFE63D]THE EYES![/COLOR]”[/i]

“What was [i]that[/i]?”

Quinn was positively [i]frenzied[/i]. There was wrought madness in her eye, and blood on her—she was [i]bleeding[/i]. She was clawing herself like a panicked animal. 

Besca cut the call and tossed the phone aside, scrambling over and pulling Quinn’s hand away from her arm. “[color=gray][i]Quinn[/i]! Quinn [i]stop![/i] What are you talking about? What eyes?[/color]”

Dahlia appeared in the doorway, worry all over her face. 

“[color=gray]Towels! Get paper towels and—just grab the first aid kit![/color]”

Dutifully, the older girl ran off. Besca turned back to Quinn, still holding her firmly, desperately trying to calm her down. Eyes? What eyes?