What a somber story you tell us, our Prince. [There's a lightness to her tone, an easiness there that suggests she's joking. No, Misato is not the first firebrand young woman to find herself on Station 72. Plenty have come and gone but some of them have stayed. Some of them have been here a very, very long time.
She waits until he poured that sweet, honeyed liquor, then takes up the small pale glass. She lifts it - a minor toast, a small break from ceremony -, then touches it to her lip. Breathes in the scent, as is expected of her. For a moment it reminds her of what it ought to - the four of them or sometimes the five or six of them around a table very similar to this one. The memory is laced with something equal parts sweet and bitter (some edge of his own recollection, perhaps) and she can't help but be reminded of what a serious young man he once had been. Even now, he seems so very young.
Misato-- Nothing he or she did could change what becomes of her. Rest easy, dear, she might say. The girl is the master of her own fate.
But she doesn't. Instead she swallows down the sweet liquor and sets the emptied glass aside.]
no subject
She waits until he poured that sweet, honeyed liquor, then takes up the small pale glass. She lifts it - a minor toast, a small break from ceremony -, then touches it to her lip. Breathes in the scent, as is expected of her. For a moment it reminds her of what it ought to - the four of them or sometimes the five or six of them around a table very similar to this one. The memory is laced with something equal parts sweet and bitter (some edge of his own recollection, perhaps) and she can't help but be reminded of what a serious young man he once had been. Even now, he seems so very young.
Misato-- Nothing he or she did could change what becomes of her. Rest easy, dear, she might say. The girl is the master of her own fate.
But she doesn't. Instead she swallows down the sweet liquor and sets the emptied glass aside.]
She'll do well. We feel it.