[She wants to go on another tirade about how for fucking crying out loud, this is NOT Paradise, these are NOT angels, and how could you smile at me like that after what you did, how could you even THINK of looking happy about the fact that I'm happy?!]
[... But she can't. Because somehow seeing that expression on Claudia's face, when it was in response to something that she herself had been smiling at not ten seconds before... makes her chest tighten. It's awkward, even somehow embarrassing. Like the extreme equivalent of having an old, uncool friend show up and catch you looking happy without them, and then laughing at the same joke you were laughing at and making it all uncomfortable. But more than the embarrassment, or the latent rage still bubbling under the surface, or even the indignity of her old foe continuing to view everything in this world through the lens of EVERYTHING THAT HAD MADE HEATHER'S LIVES HELL... there's guilt.]
[Guilt and a twinge of that sad, achy old nostalgia at seeing a smile on the face of Claudia Wolf.]
[Even if it was still one of spiritual bliss, it was for far more innocent reasons than the times she had smiled in her last few hours, standing over Heather with her arms and face raised to the sky while the younger girl was curled on the floor and writhing in pain.]
[And like that silly, self-centered remark from Vincent awhile back that had brought back old, dusty memories drifting to the surface, seeing it makes a more innocent time come to mind.]
[... So like any well-adjusted, completely-over-it person, Heather shoves the memories away and just shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly and wrinkling her nose, forced gruffness in her tone.]
[Video]
[She wants to go on another tirade about how for fucking crying out loud, this is NOT Paradise, these are NOT angels, and how could you smile at me like that after what you did, how could you even THINK of looking happy about the fact that I'm happy?!]
[... But she can't. Because somehow seeing that expression on Claudia's face, when it was in response to something that she herself had been smiling at not ten seconds before... makes her chest tighten. It's awkward, even somehow embarrassing. Like the extreme equivalent of having an old, uncool friend show up and catch you looking happy without them, and then laughing at the same joke you were laughing at and making it all uncomfortable. But more than the embarrassment, or the latent rage still bubbling under the surface, or even the indignity of her old foe continuing to view everything in this world through the lens of EVERYTHING THAT HAD MADE HEATHER'S LIVES HELL... there's guilt.]
[Guilt and a twinge of that sad, achy old nostalgia at seeing a smile on the face of Claudia Wolf.]
[Even if it was still one of spiritual bliss, it was for far more innocent reasons than the times she had smiled in her last few hours, standing over Heather with her arms and face raised to the sky while the younger girl was curled on the floor and writhing in pain.]
[And like that silly, self-centered remark from Vincent awhile back that had brought back old, dusty memories drifting to the surface, seeing it makes a more innocent time come to mind.]
[... So like any well-adjusted, completely-over-it person, Heather shoves the memories away and just shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly and wrinkling her nose, forced gruffness in her tone.]
S'not an angel, just a bird.
... Her name's Sunny.