Dahlia listened carefully, realizing as Quinn spoke that she hadn’t [i]really[/i] heard her explain why she’d done it until now. It made sense, of course, and it wasn’t a huge leap to make from the understanding she’d already had. Nevertheless, sitting there, something began to well up within her, deep in her chest. It was warm and excited, stoked with each rising word until it blazed like a bonfire. The heat rose up through her throat and to her eyes. 

For a few moments every ounce of worry she had for Quinn melted away. She struggled to recall even a single time where she’d sounded more confident, more sure of herself than she did right then. Quinn might not have been [i]happy[/i] per se, but she was [i]certain[/i]. Pilots often had to choose between the two, and even if it wasn’t a fair choice, even if it wasn’t a [i]conscious[/i] choice, it was one she’d made.  

Dahlia realized she was about to cry. 

“[color=ffe63d]...Was that okay?[/color]”

Fanning at her face, utterly oblivious to the looks they were getting, Dahlia dried her eyes against her sleeve. “[color=skyblue]Oh gosh, look at me, I’m so sorry,[/color]” she said, smiling. Her voice pitched up high enough that it squeaked. “[color=skyblue]That was great and I’m just really really proud of you.[/color]”

Quickly, she leaned over the table and pulled Quinn into a hug. “[color=skyblue]You’re a lil’ light, you know that? The [i]best[/i]. Every time I worry about you, you find a way to show me how strong you are.[/color]” She sat back as their food arrived, sniffling and blowing her nose into a napkin as the teary threat subsided. “[color=skyblue]So, once you’re past the duel questions, is there anything else you’re worried about?[/color]”