Je me fous du passé

[wormintheglass]

[The feed opens with Bianca. She stands in Delight's bar, the lighting rearranged to get as close as she can to the appearance of being on stage, and she glares into the camera and takes a large swig of the glass in her hand before she makes any sound.

Then she sings. Inside the bar, her voice is strong enough to rattle glasses.

People listening to the feed on the network may hear the familiar Lancastrian accent of Kate, grumbling almost inaudible complaints. Most of them seem to be along the lines of why did I agree to this and why did I give up booze.

The song ends and Bianca casts a grateful look at Kate before launching into speech.]

I have lived a long time, my friends. I am sorry for many things. I've been unforgivably careless of people's hearts and hopes. I've allied myself with the most treacherous of worms - I have trusted too much, cared too much, and -

[She stops.]

Or not cared enough. I have broken people for my own gain. I have sold myself to a power I knew to be malevolent, to buy my own life. I have tormented those I believed I loved, and abandoned those I know I did. Kate -

[She gazes, stricken, past the camera.]

I pulled you into this scheme. You almost died. Sharon and Maketh did die. I'm sorry, so sorry, for that.

[And then she lifts her chin, defiant.]

But I'm not sorry we made the attempt. I'm not sorry for taking a risk on the chance of buying all our freedom. Are you watching, Hope? Did you feel it, just when it started? The only real hope I've felt since coming here? I hoped so hard to end you.

I'm only sorry we failed.

[There's a brief resigned sigh from behind the camera as the feed goes out.]

Comments

[unitas]

Probably. [ But it's said moments later, and hangs in the air awkwardly. She shifts, wonders if there's something else she should say, but then simply moves to leave. As she walks away, back to him, she says: ] If you need me, give me a call; it's under Heather Mason.

[ Her phone is registered as Heather Mason, and though many know her as Sharon, she's never gotten around to changing it. ]

[torrefied]

Heather Mason.

[He nods, repeating the name, imprinting it on his memory, and he wonders: is that who she was before she was Sharon? A question for another time, perhaps. It seems they've formed an alliance of sorts, for the moment, and that, he thinks, is a good thing. He allows himself a brief, faint smile as he digs his sunglasses out of his jacket to slip back over his face and calls after her:]

You too. I'm under Mello.

[unitas]

[ She responds with a simple two-finger wave, not bothering to look back at him. He's lucky she didn't, she would have told him to ditch the glasses. ]