Quinn wasn't hungry.

As much as she'd thought she was ready—at least as ready as she really could be—on the Aerie, she'd realized when she'd seen [i]Blotklau[/i], when she'd heard those mournful strings, when she was served what was in all likelihood her last meal—she'd realized with a flash of nausea that she wasn't ready. Wasn't anywhere [i]near[/i] ready. Wasn't even [i]close.[/i] The food smelled delicious, and from the faces of those around her, it seemed like it tasted delicious too. In any other situation Quinn would have been experimenting with everything there, trying to find what she liked best. But now? She picked at it, too nervous to put any of it in her gut in fear that it would come right back up again.

Then that door opened. And through it walked Roaki. Quinn wasn't sure how she knew her so assuredly, even before she saw the pilot's suit underneath her clothes, but she knew as soon as she laid eye on her that this was the girl that she—

That she—

A wave of revulsion bore up her throat and she swallowed it down. At the same time, that spike of [color=black]desire,[/color] of [color=black]hunger,[/color] punched through her brain.

—That she was going to—

She kept her eye locked to the ghost-white girl, almost afraid to look away, as she (even younger than Quinn herself was, she'd read from her dossier with horror) stumped closer, the wood of her leg thumping sharply against the Parlay's floor, and finally sat down right across from her.

"[color=ec008c]So, I guess you're next.[/color]"

Quinn jolted, she couldn't stop herself. Thoughts raced through her head. Whoever she'd expected her opponent to be, she was sure it wasn't this. A child whose arm and leg had been shorn from her body. And such [i]vitriol[/i] in her voice. She found a distant part of herself wondering; had she lost her limbs like she had lost her eye? Or had they been taken by her Savior? 


But most of her still felt like she was going to be sick. And not only did she [i]feel[/i] sick, she obvioiusly [i]looked[/i] like she felt sick. Her mouth was twisted in discomfort, and she dropped the fork that she wasn't really using onto the nearly untouched plate with a gentle clatter.

—that she had to [i]kill.[/i]

It took her a moment to find her voice, and there was a noticeable shake to it when she responded that she desperately wished she could keep out, at least for the moment. How did she talk to this girl, this [i]creature[/i] who fought [i]literally[/i] tooth and nail? What could she say to her, knowing that no matter what happened, one of them wouldn't going be going back home?

"[color=FFE63D]...I—[/color]"

There was nothing she could say to make this easier on her. Nothing to make it easier on Roaki either (though she seemed like she wasn't in short supply of confidence). So she averted her eye, stared at her plate, and muttered quietly as she ignored both [color=black]Quinnlash's[/color] needles of feeling and the horrible familiar twisting in her gut as best she could.

"[color=FFE63D]...Yeah. That's me.[/color]"