[ The don't catches Mako off-guard and while Chuck steps forward, she steps back, the two of them shifting in odd synchronization with one another (as if they were moving together as opposed to moving apart). It's not too large of a shift, just enough to bring Chuck inside and out of the doorway. Mako catches herself mid-motion (again, a lack of compatibility) her eyes largening as he presses into her personal space (not the first time and certainly not the last, but with a decided lack of his usual barking aggression).
There's a seam in Chuck's facade and Mako, who has spent the last ten years of her life staring into that face, trying to understand its angry topographies, sees it for what it is and nearly regrets her decision. (Nearly. There are certain things you cannot take back.) ]
Why not? [ she asks quickly, almost accusingly, her eyes not stern but searching again, searching. (—you can always find me in the Drift her father had said and without the Pons, without Gipsy and without the neural bridge, this, Chuck, was as close to Pentecost as she could get until he joined them here—) ]
no subject
There's a seam in Chuck's facade and Mako, who has spent the last ten years of her life staring into that face, trying to understand its angry topographies, sees it for what it is and nearly regrets her decision. (Nearly. There are certain things you cannot take back.) ]
Why not? [ she asks quickly, almost accusingly, her eyes not stern but searching again, searching. (—you can always find me in the Drift her father had said and without the Pons, without Gipsy and without the neural bridge, this, Chuck, was as close to Pentecost as she could get until he joined them here—) ]
It's true.