[It's odd, really, that she knows what he's doing. That she's grown familiar enough with him to understand that fake whining for what it is, and more importantly, what he so clearly wants it to do. Granted, it's not particularly subtle, but on the other hand, she's normally so bad at reading emotion.]
As a coloratura soprano.
[The phrasing sticks out, memorized with a fourteen year old's careful indifference. His hurt sticks out, the way it ached and didn't, the way she-- he-- they-- so desperately wanted their mother to look over (and yet not), and oh, all that bragging at the end, I'll show you, Dr. Geiszler oh yes that Madam Lutece, yes, your daughter, yes, your son, yes, you fucked up and now you have to pay, you could have gotten in on the ground floor but you didn't and now you never will--
no subject
As a coloratura soprano.
[The phrasing sticks out, memorized with a fourteen year old's careful indifference. His hurt sticks out, the way it ached and didn't, the way she-- he-- they-- so desperately wanted their mother to look over (and yet not), and oh, all that bragging at the end, I'll show you, Dr. Geiszler oh yes that Madam Lutece, yes, your daughter, yes, your son, yes, you fucked up and now you have to pay, you could have gotten in on the ground floor but you didn't and now you never will--
Yes, she remembers.]
Did you ever see her again?