[The first time she saw him, dehydrated, exhausted, disgusted with herself, she thought he must be a Simba. That her nose was lying to her because she had been on whatever drug the hunters had given her. It's his face, his hair, that look. The one he's giving her now. The lion in him.
She takes another drink, to give them both a second.
There are other questions she could ask. Equally pointed ones, but she knows the answer. Why didn't you take another ship. Why pretend that this is anything but what it is.]
She's not that smart. Not smarter than she is proud.
no subject
She takes another drink, to give them both a second.
There are other questions she could ask. Equally pointed ones, but she knows the answer. Why didn't you take another ship. Why pretend that this is anything but what it is.]
She's not that smart. Not smarter than she is proud.
Should I prepare for war?