Poor Bedside Manner
"You're right," Eloise said, glaring back at him. "I just saw her holding a knife to your throat. But screw me for caring about you."
The Sith must've really gotten to him. His brains were scrambled by her sorcery. That had to be it. That was the most comforting explanation, anyway.
Gritting her teeth, her lips pulled back in a grimace. She couldn't stop the tears streaming down her cheeks, not even when she struck a balled-up fist against her forehead. It was all too much. She didn't know what was in Dio's heart that would make him say these things. At least, not anymore. Force. Those days felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, to two total strangers, rather than their slightly younger selves...
Meanwhile, Diogo just kept on talking.
So now I killed her. Which is it? She couldn't even be sure that he was telling the truth anymore.
It took a moment to register the rest of what he'd said. I scare you? Have you considered looking in the mirror and asking yourself why that is?
Her anger flared, blood running hot. She stood up suddenly, and for a moment she really, really wanted to hurt him. To make him feel as much pain as he was inflicting on her with his words. But the violent urge faded as quickly as it manifested, leaving her gaze vacant and haunted.
"Maybe we can't be friends."
It was such a painfully inadequate way to convey her feelings, bordering on childish, and yet it was the only thing she could think to say at this point. She was too frail and brittle to fight him anymore, and he had lost what little rapport he had regained with her upon his return.
"Goodbye, Diogo."
Without another word, she walked past him, headed out of the medbay. Her legs, which had stood sturdy as tree trunks during her millisecond of blind rage, were now shaky to the point of hobbling her. Yet she kept going, hanging on to the wall for support, eyes blinded by tears. She wanted to be left alone - no, not alone. She wanted to talk to someone. A friend...
The Sith must've really gotten to him. His brains were scrambled by her sorcery. That had to be it. That was the most comforting explanation, anyway.
Gritting her teeth, her lips pulled back in a grimace. She couldn't stop the tears streaming down her cheeks, not even when she struck a balled-up fist against her forehead. It was all too much. She didn't know what was in Dio's heart that would make him say these things. At least, not anymore. Force. Those days felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, to two total strangers, rather than their slightly younger selves...
Meanwhile, Diogo just kept on talking.
So now I killed her. Which is it? She couldn't even be sure that he was telling the truth anymore.
It took a moment to register the rest of what he'd said. I scare you? Have you considered looking in the mirror and asking yourself why that is?
Her anger flared, blood running hot. She stood up suddenly, and for a moment she really, really wanted to hurt him. To make him feel as much pain as he was inflicting on her with his words. But the violent urge faded as quickly as it manifested, leaving her gaze vacant and haunted.
"Maybe we can't be friends."
It was such a painfully inadequate way to convey her feelings, bordering on childish, and yet it was the only thing she could think to say at this point. She was too frail and brittle to fight him anymore, and he had lost what little rapport he had regained with her upon his return.
"Goodbye, Diogo."
Without another word, she walked past him, headed out of the medbay. Her legs, which had stood sturdy as tree trunks during her millisecond of blind rage, were now shaky to the point of hobbling her. Yet she kept going, hanging on to the wall for support, eyes blinded by tears. She wanted to be left alone - no, not alone. She wanted to talk to someone. A friend...
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