The smile froze on Sparks' face, stillborn, any relief she might have felt at Axel's presence whooshing off into the recycled air like helium from a pierced balloon, the rheinlander's words stabbing at her like knives. Sparks deflated along with it, shoulders hunching and eyes drifting to the ground, wishing she could fade through the stained carpet. All this time, and he hadn't forgotten. Hadn't forgiven her. She heard someone greeting her, barely registered it as more than noise. Thought she heard the Witch's voice, waved it past as yet more white noise. She kicked at a lump in the carpet, trying to find something to distract her in the scuffed polyester. Why should he have? You didn't pump a friend full of enough radiation to jump-start a small star and expect him to come out with any sort of glow that could be described as healthy, much less forgive you for it.
"I-"Was just doing what I thought was best. Just trying to help. You face death out there every time you climb into the cockpit, every time you pull a trigger. Isn't saving people from that worth a little risk? That was what she wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled sort of sob that Sparks struggled to cover with a cough. "I'm just here to check on the relays. I just thought I'd say hi." She trailed off lamely, attention still fixated on the carpet, suddenly wishing for something, anything, except a familiar face.
"This is really sort of a personal project of mine."
- James Arland, on single-handedly engaging an enemy regiment.
