Quinn's heart gave a painful squeeze at the mention of her mother, but she took one long, deep breath, and the pressure inside of her that always swelled when she thought about her family lowered. [i][color=ffe63d]I am a [b]pilot.[/b] They can't reach me ever again. If they're even alive.[/color][/i] The urge to panic rose again, but once more, she mercilessly crushed it down to rest at a simmer, or perhaps even a low boil. But with some effort, she held the steam inside and crushed it down until it was just a painful lump of lead in her chest. [i][color=ffe63d]They can never touch me again.[/color][/i] There was a vague feeling from deep within her that suggested [color=black]Quinnlash[/color] was helping to press it down too, but she wasn't totally sure. 

She couldn't just [i]run away[/i] from the memories for the rest of her life. So carefully, cautiously, she took the lid off the pot, and tried to remember.

"[color=ffe63d]Um,[/color]" she started, taking a pair of yellow hair ties from Cyril's hand and distractedly braiding it as she thought. It was nice; gave her something to do with her hands, so they weren't so obviously trembling. He was just so [i]fast.[/i] It was hard for Quinn's words to catch up to his, especially when she was shoving everything down so [i]hard[/i]. And shove them down hard she did. "[color=ffe63d]I think my...my mom used to speak a little, here and there. I don't remember it very well, just a few things like [i]merci[/i], [i]bonne nuit[/i], [i]s’il vous plait[/i], that kind of thing.[/color]" 

She closed her eye briefly, biting the inside of her cheek until she could taste iron. Actively [i]trying[/i] to remember was like peeling off the world's biggest, stickiest bandaid. Her voice was always kind of tense, but there was a [i]tautness[/i] there now that hadn't been there before, and by the time she'd finished speaking she had to fight to keep a harsh stuttering tremble out of it. So she jumped at an opportunity to talk about [i]anything[/i] else.

"[color=ffe63d]Yeah, I wear it like this in the cockpit.[/color]" She snapped the two elastics on at the end of the renewed, pristine braid to keep it in place and shook her head a few times to settle it. Her hands weren't even shaking anymore. "[color=ffe63d]I drop it over the back of the chair and it's heavy enough that it doesn't come undone.[/color]" Then, defying the heat that she could feel inevitably building behind her eye, a smile came to her face; a small, thin thing, but genuine despite the slight tremble. "[color=ffe63d]You would not believe how much conditioner I go through.[/color]"