Sibling Rivalry

[Omi]

"We do whatever we want, Mal," she affirmed, her voice low. "Stay here, go back to Bretonia - whatever. That's what fightin' this war is all about."

Pausing only briefly to glance out the window, Marisa continued.

"I'll pro'lly go back home, though. To Cambridge. There's somethin' about Bretonia that just makes it- y'know, it's just home. I don' think Liberty could ever be home. Y'know what I mean?" She waved her fork around aimlessly, as if trying to gesture her words into more meaning. "It just... isn't. Nothin' here really feels homeish. Even the pudding is - well, it's not bad, but..." The pudding in question sat just out of reach, half-eaten and looking rather forlorn.

"An' if- if the worst comes to worst an'... they end up winnin'... well, you know- we'll have each other. An' what's more - the neither of us is bad at pilotin'. We can make our own way, no matter what it ends up comin' to. But they won't win - y'hear me?" she declared, twirling her fork between her fingers, a small smile on her face. I'm tellin' ya - they don't stand a damn chance."

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