For a little while there was…relief. Dahlia sat and ate happily, hardly even tasting the burger through the sweet cheeriness of her own mood. She relished in it, while she could, because in the back of her mind she knew what was coming—knew where the conversation was headed. It was inevitable, and perhaps subconsciously she’d steered it this way so they could at least face the question together. 

Quinn’s parents. The Loughveins. The [i]monsters[/i] who had done unspeakably horrible things to her for who-knew-what reasons—reasons that didn’t matter. It soured Dahlia’s mind just to think of them, she couldn’t imagine what Quinn must have been feeling. 

“[color=skyblue]I think…it’s possible,[/color]” she said. No lies. “[color=skyblue]But I don’t think she’ll focus on it too much. Your parents aren’t pilots, no one else cares about them.[/color]” It was hard to keep the spiteful edge out of those words, though she did try. 

“[color=skyblue]If they do come up, just…breeze through it. Quick, short answers. Don’t think about it. She’ll get the hint—like I said, Mona’s good at this, and if you’re uncomfortable, that looks bad for the interview. She won’t dwell on stuff that brings you down.[/color]”

Dahlia set her burger down, wiped her mouth clean. She hadn’t touched her milkshake; part of her felt like she hadn’t earned it yet. 

“[color=skyblue]And Quinn,[/color]” she said, not solemnly, but steady. “[color=skyblue]Remember: they can’t hurt you now. They’ll never hurt you again—Besca and I won’t [i]ever[/i] let them. So you just get through that part of the interview tonight, and we’ll put that in our rear-view mirror, and won’t think about it anymore, alright? You get back, and we’ll do a movie marathon and fall asleep on the couch. I’ll even stock up on snacks while you’re planetside.[/color]”

Offering another smile, she returned to her burger. “[color=skyblue]Anything else on your mind? Anything at all, you can tell me, y’know.[/color]”