Quinn hadn't really thought of Dahlia when she'd given vent to her frustrated scream. But, she reflected, she [i]should've.[/i] As she met Dahlia's eyes with her own, another shard of guilt buried itself in her heart. She looked so tired. So stressed. So worried. Unable to keep eye contact any longer for the stabbing hurt, she dropped her head shamefacedly. 

"[color=ffe63d]Y⁠—yeah. I'm...I'm fine. Just...[/color]"

She hesitated for a moment. Didn't want to put more on Dahlia. But looking up into her weary silver eyes, she felt herself throwing herself into her sister's arms before she really even realized it, hugging her tight in return. Her eye closed, and she felt a thin stream of tears leaking out. 

"[color=ffe63d]I just...[/color]"

Another moment of hesitation. Another moment of thinking that she shouldn't burden Dahlia with this. Another moment of self-loathing. But being near Dahlia drew the hurt in her out like nothing else, stripping away the [i]hero pilot,[/i] the [i]burdened celebrity,[/i] and everything else, and leaving what lay, buried deep, deep down, at the core of Quinn: the lost, scared child. 

So when she responded, there was a hint of tears in her voice. "[color=ffe63d]Deelie, they⁠—they could've⁠—they might've⁠—[i]died in Hovvi.[/i][/color]"

She squeezed the hug tighter, burying her face in her sister's shoulder. "[color=ffe63d]They might be dead. They're probably [i]dead.[/i] I'm [i]free of them.[/i][/color]"

She screwed her eye tighter. "[color=ffe63d]So why⁠—[/color]"

And then thickness in her voice turned into sobs.

"[color=ffe63d][i]Why does it make me sad?[/i][/color]"