[She nods to Morgan, jumping at the hand on her shoulder, deciding not to shake it. Rose is not crying, although she shudders like she should be, images of Morgan's fancy swordwork and Tsuna with a shotgun, then a chainsaw, then both of them becoming different people entirely, people whose weapons those really were, play across the backs of her eyelids like torrid cave paintings.
Somewhere a fire starts; somewhere else, it rains drops of sunlight.]
Crying is not unforgivable. [God, she barely manages that, and it isn't what she meant to say and stand up, damn it, Rose and none of that, none of it, is happening. Her hands move from her temples to cover her face. Still not crying. She doesn't dare.]
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Somewhere a fire starts; somewhere else, it rains drops of sunlight.]
Crying is not unforgivable. [God, she barely manages that, and it isn't what she meant to say and stand up, damn it, Rose and none of that, none of it, is happening. Her hands move from her temples to cover her face. Still not crying. She doesn't dare.]