The look on Dahlia's face made Quinn want to run into her room, hide her face in her pillow out of shame, and never look at her again. This was something that she had [i]very much[/i] not expected.

Though perhaps she should have, she thought bitterly. She'd yelled at Dahlia before today. Very, very rarely (once or twice), but it [i]had[/i] happened. But this was the first time she'd ever been so...so [i]mean[/i] about it. She had just gotten so angry, so fast, she hadn't been able to stop it. She had hurt her sister. And she'd [i]meant[/i] to hurt her, even though it was absolutely her own fault in the end. The way she'd called, the way she'd hung up so suddenly, how she [i]knew[/i] Dahlia thought of Roaki at the time; what else were she and Besca supposed to think?

She swiped her arm across her face to wipe the remnants of tears from her reddened eye, then looked up at Dahlia. Gently, carefully, Quinn reached down and grasped her hands in her own, lightly rubbing her thumbs in a circle on her sister's palms in what she hoped desperately was comforting instead of unsettling.

"[color=ffe63d]No, Deelie, no,[/color]" she murmured in reply, breaking off eye contact. She just couldn't bear it anymore. 

She released the hands, then sat down on the back of the couch, staring into the kitchen at the half of the cake that Dahlia had made for her, still sitting on the table. "[color=ffe63d]You must've been [i]so[/i] worried when I called you like that.[/color]" She shook her head slowly in both denial and regret, voice turning melancholic. "[color=ffe63d]It was my fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.[/color]"