Re: Cissie/Conner/Mia/Malcolm/Clint
Cissie's attention was squarely on Mia. The bow and arrow were still in her hands, but her eyes hadn't moved. She almost laughed when she heard Mia mention the cat suit. But the grip on her bow tightened. She could feel her hand shaking. The kid lying across from her, the one who the arrow was pointed at... he wasn't much older than she was. And right now, unconscious... he didn't even look dangerous. Except for that gun that she knew he'd had on his person.
She blinked, a few tears escaping from her eyes, running over her mask, causing the fabric to become wet against her skin. She felt Mia's hand on hers, but the bow hand tightened again where it had started to slacken. Mia had been in this position? She'd stood here and held a man's life in her hands... and had taken it. She wasn't surprised that Clint had done that, but Mia... And now Cissie had the same right here in front of her.
Her hand was shaking, there was no way she could make the shot. He couldn't defend himself. She wasn't a murderer. But she wanted so badly to... to...
For a moment, Cissie pulled the bowstring back tighter as if she was about to fire the waiting arrow, her shoulders tight. There was a tense moment before she lowered the bow and let her grip on the bow string loosen back to its normal position. The arrow fell from its perch to the rooftop with a clatter as Cissie dropped her stance, the tears finally coming as she turned towards Mia and Clint, finally letting everything out.
"I could have saved her. I could have gotten the gun away from him," she said between the tears. "Why did she stop me? W-why didn't she let me? I could've..." In truth, she knew the answer to the question.