01-26-2018, 08:26 AM
He focused on the wrong concern, but she did not correct him. Instead she was quiet, absorbing his response. Nothing moved him, though she had not expected that. He loomed like a mountain, immovable and enduring as the ancient stone of the Kremlin, but not the sort she would think to lean on for comfort or shelter.
He almost smiled. It was about as close as he'd come to a semblance of real emotion the entire time she'd been here, and even then it had the tangibility of shadow. Still, it did not much matter what she made of the man; she had a measure of him, even if she could not read the unshifting planes of his expression. She was a piece to be nudged on a board; valuable for her blood, and for the light coursing through her veins.
The compliments washed over her unexamined, an unnecessary balm if he thought to appeal to her pride. It made no difference. The rest she mulled over, unphased by the press of silence as she did so. The goodness of all. In better company she might have rolled her eyes at that. It all sounded terribly noble, but it coaxed no flaming heart in Natalie's chest. In fact it was barely a consideration at all. She had not exactly gone to Africa chasing worthy causes, just run as far as her legs would take her, away from the prison of her stifling reality at the time.
It also did not escape her that Brandon denied her the one thing she asked for, just brushed it casually aside; a dismissal not likely to be forgotten, but she accepted there was no scope for bargaining in this. It would be a waste of breath.
In truth? She didn't want this. Not really.
But it wasn't her desires she considered.
It would appease her mother and please her grandfather, and give her a much needed space to breathe without the tie of a proper commitment. Access to resources, perhaps, and maybe an ally. America and the CCD had never seen eye to eye, an unruly dissent that had of course touched her own life. Perhaps it would be an opportunity to dig out the answers she wanted, whether they were barred from her or not.
But more than any of that, it was something to do; a focus, a touchstone, a distraction in the dead dark, when other thoughts spilled in like ghosts with feathery fingers.
She tipped her shoulder. "I am amenable to that."
He almost smiled. It was about as close as he'd come to a semblance of real emotion the entire time she'd been here, and even then it had the tangibility of shadow. Still, it did not much matter what she made of the man; she had a measure of him, even if she could not read the unshifting planes of his expression. She was a piece to be nudged on a board; valuable for her blood, and for the light coursing through her veins.
The compliments washed over her unexamined, an unnecessary balm if he thought to appeal to her pride. It made no difference. The rest she mulled over, unphased by the press of silence as she did so. The goodness of all. In better company she might have rolled her eyes at that. It all sounded terribly noble, but it coaxed no flaming heart in Natalie's chest. In fact it was barely a consideration at all. She had not exactly gone to Africa chasing worthy causes, just run as far as her legs would take her, away from the prison of her stifling reality at the time.
It also did not escape her that Brandon denied her the one thing she asked for, just brushed it casually aside; a dismissal not likely to be forgotten, but she accepted there was no scope for bargaining in this. It would be a waste of breath.
In truth? She didn't want this. Not really.
But it wasn't her desires she considered.
It would appease her mother and please her grandfather, and give her a much needed space to breathe without the tie of a proper commitment. Access to resources, perhaps, and maybe an ally. America and the CCD had never seen eye to eye, an unruly dissent that had of course touched her own life. Perhaps it would be an opportunity to dig out the answers she wanted, whether they were barred from her or not.
But more than any of that, it was something to do; a focus, a touchstone, a distraction in the dead dark, when other thoughts spilled in like ghosts with feathery fingers.
She tipped her shoulder. "I am amenable to that."