( when he says that he's been in countries like hers, wanda sighs, because it sucks knowing that it's not a unique plight. that while she escaped with her life, so many don't, and the world promises they'll never let this happen again, and yet it doesβagain and again and again.
she spears the last one of her dumplings and chews into it, moving a few steps to the side, closer to the wall, to toss her trash away, see this man now at a different angle, facing him. a few people walk by past them, but the rush for food has quieted down significantly since their conversation started.
(even if he's a boxer, and whatever else, wanda still thinks she could take him on. telekinetic powers and all would give her an unfair advantage, but she's not also considering he may be gifted in some way, too.)
averting her gaze again at this sudden personal admittance, wanda isn't sure how to react to that. she shrugs, nonchalant, then lifts a hand to scratch behind her ear. )
And yours isn't like my father's.
( it's neutral enough, to mirror each other like this. her heart thunders in her chest as wanda, for a moment, struggles to remember her father's face. she glances up at his, if just to make sure she remembers him, later, in this sea of strangers.
she offers him this: )
I don't like talking about where I'm from.
( not casually, not unprompted. it's too painful. )
no subject
she spears the last one of her dumplings and chews into it, moving a few steps to the side, closer to the wall, to toss her trash away, see this man now at a different angle, facing him. a few people walk by past them, but the rush for food has quieted down significantly since their conversation started.
(even if he's a boxer, and whatever else, wanda still thinks she could take him on. telekinetic powers and all would give her an unfair advantage, but she's not also considering he may be gifted in some way, too.)
averting her gaze again at this sudden personal admittance, wanda isn't sure how to react to that. she shrugs, nonchalant, then lifts a hand to scratch behind her ear. )
And yours isn't like my father's.
( it's neutral enough, to mirror each other like this. her heart thunders in her chest as wanda, for a moment, struggles to remember her father's face. she glances up at his, if just to make sure she remembers him, later, in this sea of strangers.
she offers him this: )
I don't like talking about where I'm from.
( not casually, not unprompted. it's too painful. )