On her trip down the elevator, Quinnlash cried. How could she not?

How long ago had she told Dr. Follen that she never wanted to leave the Aerie? That it had really become her home? She wasn't exactly sure, but she knew that it wasn't very long ago at all. Up there, in that hanging station that she watched recede into the darkness of space above her, was the only [i]real[/i] home that she'd ever had, and the only people she'd ever [i]really[/i] loved.

And now she was leaving. Being [i]made[/i] to leave. So how could she not cry?

But still...she was about to do something incredibly important. So, as the trip down dragged on and her final hug with Dahlia and Besca stayed fresh in her memory, she grit her teeth, wiped her eyes, and dried her tears. By the time she reached the surface of Casoban--for the [i]third time[/i], she realized, once she'd gotten on the Aerie she'd been to Casoban more than she'd been to [i]Runa[/i]--all that remained of the tears that she cried was a faint, vague redness around her eye that could easily be excused as nerves or sleeplessness, or even dismissed entirely.

And it was a good thing too, as she was led through the unbelievably loud crowd by Toussaint, the only Casobani person that she recognized in person, to a small cadre of the [i]Very Important People.[/i] Toussaint, commander of the CSC. Pilots, new and veteran. And...the Prime Minister of Casoban. As he reached forward to shake her small hand, a small part of her--not [color=black]Quinnlash,[/color] but [i]her--[/i]was suddenly filled for the barest moment with a searing rage that this man had taken her away from her family.

But it only lasted a fraction of a fraction of a second before fading into gray ashes as she shook his hand back.

“Olivier Moroux,” he said. “Casoban is delighted to have you, miss Loughvein. I want to extend my sincerest thanks for your heroism. I think we can all sleep a little more soundly knowing you’re protecting us.”

As the handshake stopped, Quinn found her voice locked again. Just like it had been at the end of Mona's--like somebody was throttling her throat closed, strangling the air from her body. She felt suddenly like she couldn't breathe as the first fragments of a blinding panic started to rise within her...

...before she shut them down. [i]Hard.[/i]

This was the only chance she had. The only way she could make things right after the disastrous fallout of her first, and so far only, duel. She had to do it, and she had to do it [i]right,[/i] because EVERYTHING was riding on it. So she punched the rising hysteria down within her mercilessly, and forced a smile that was almost genuine out to her face.

[i][color=ffe63d]I know you hate me, but...[/color][/i]

"[color=ffe63d]Thank you, Prime Minister Moroux,[/color]" Her voice was quiet, but at least reasonably steady and self-assured, enough that she was almost surprised, though if you listened carefully there was still a noticeable quaver she couldn't quite shut down. "[color=ffe63d]And thank you for this opportunity.[/color]" What else should she say? Should she say [i]anything[/i] else? Having all these unfamiliar eyes was taxing already. What was she supposed to say in front of them?

"[color=ffe63d]I hope I can live up to the standards of your amazing Savior Corps, and I look forward to working with all of you.[/color]"