Meant to? [ she echoes, the last syllable lilting in pitch that almost sounded like a laugh. ] Like fate?
[ still no laugh, but a huff of a shadow of one. maybe even a scoff. she drags her attention away from his face to the paper in his hands, but she's already talking. ]
Men who like to take care of things themselves don't usually talk about fa—
[ her voice clips, eyes landing on the words that are instantly, unexpectedly recognizable. she quiets, eyes flitting across the lines again, and then again, and then her lips purse into a line inherent to every cabrera woman she's ever known. a rough sigh, barely contained. ]
I'm so tired of this place.
[ this place not reserved just for the chapel, of course, but it's as good as any to start. she pivots on a heel and now it's her turn to squeeze past him, stomping off towards the door. suddenly prayers are the last thing she wants to entertain, especially in a space that has done nothing but laugh at her every chance it's gotten.
her hand lands on the knob, but it jiggles uselessly under her grip. dust shudders off the wood when she gives it a firmer attempt, but budge is all it does. she turns back around, and it's only because of her growing frustration that her sharp gaze lands so accusingly on him. ]
no subject
[ still no laugh, but a huff of a shadow of one. maybe even a scoff. she drags her attention away from his face to the paper in his hands, but she's already talking. ]
Men who like to take care of things themselves don't usually talk about fa—
[ her voice clips, eyes landing on the words that are instantly, unexpectedly recognizable. she quiets, eyes flitting across the lines again, and then again, and then her lips purse into a line inherent to every cabrera woman she's ever known. a rough sigh, barely contained. ]
I'm so tired of this place.
[ this place not reserved just for the chapel, of course, but it's as good as any to start. she pivots on a heel and now it's her turn to squeeze past him, stomping off towards the door. suddenly prayers are the last thing she wants to entertain, especially in a space that has done nothing but laugh at her every chance it's gotten.
her hand lands on the knob, but it jiggles uselessly under her grip. dust shudders off the wood when she gives it a firmer attempt, but budge is all it does. she turns back around, and it's only because of her growing frustration that her sharp gaze lands so accusingly on him. ]
It's stuck.