Dahlia saw Quinn set down her fork, breathe deeply, and knew that something was coming. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but a question of rebelliousness had not been it. Then again, why not? It was a fair question, and the answer…complex. Likely to be disappointing, but at least not in the way Dahlia feared it would be. 

“[color=skyblue]No,[/color]” she said, and it was a bit like admitting she didn’t know how to ride a bike, or whistle. It felt…not quite shameful, but certainly embarrassing. “[color=skyblue]I’ve wanted to, but…there haven’t been a lot. At least, not a lot that they’ve tried to use with me. I guess I’ve never made them mad, is more like what I mean. Yeah I’ve skipped training days, or played hooky on interviews, but nothing [i]serious[/i].[/color]”

She knew why well enough. She never questioned things, never caused problems—though saying it like that made it sound like Quinn was a troublemaker, which, technically she was. But what Quinn was doing was [i]good[/i] trouble. Needed trouble. No one should have been mad at Quinn for what she did, not at the duel and not last night. 

They would be anyway. 

“[color=skyblue]I’ve never done a lot of things. Being a pilot kinda takes more opportunities than it gives you. But just because you’ve never done something before doesn’t mean it’s wrong—you’re the proof.[/color]” She crossed her arms on the counter, laid her head down on them to be more level with Quinn. “[color=skyblue]You’re worried about what they’ll do, huh? ‘Cause of Roaki.[/color]”