Quinn's head stayed hung for another few moments yet. It seemed almost like she hadn't heard Besca, only a quiet "[color=ffe63d]mmh[/color]" confirming that she had as she stared into the mostly empty cereal bowl like the brown-tinted milk held the secrets of the universe. A dull ache returned to the back of her head, and she echoed Besca, letting a long, slow sigh seep from her mouth.

She'd tried her best to help Deelie and now she was locking herself in sims out of pure worry for Quinn. She'd tried to help Roaki, but she still didn't seem to care about living, and Besca was still driving herself to distraction trying to handle the political fallout of her being here. It seemed like no matter how hard she tried, the things that she cared about only grew further away, and the things that she didn't care about but everyone else did like [i]who won the duel[/i] or [i]your phase speed is so fast[/i] seemed to cling to her no matter if she tried to distance them. Nobody cared that she'd never wanted to be a pilot, and that looking at [i]Ablaze[/i] still sent a harsh shiver down her spine. But it didn't matter. She needed to. She'd needed to, or else she would've been [i]sent back.[/i]

So if she could do all these things everyone else cared about except her, and she [i]had[/i] to do them, then why did the things that [i]she[/i] wanted need to be locked behind a thousand closed doors? It wasn't...it wasn't [i]fair![/i] Why didn't what [i]she[/i] wanted matter? [i]Why was everyone important except her?[/i]

Her voice was thick and strained, if quiet, when she spoke. Almost broken too. A sure sign that [i]something[/i] had to give, and it was almost certainly going to be Quinn. Tears had beaded in her eye, though it was a little tricky to see from the angle she was leaning over the bowl.

"[color=ffe63d]How long until my best is good enough, Besca?[/color]"