Myka wasn't used to talking things through. She never really talked about Sam, it was just.. known, it was in her file. Others talked. And sometimes she talked.. usually when she was drunk because it relaxed her, or at least made her more candid. But Anatoly was right in that she didn't know how to handle strong emotions. Because the times she'd felt them, she'd lost control and people had been hurt, had died. So she held so tightly to control now, that it was all she knew. Maybe the emotions would take over at some point, but not tonight. Not when Helena was still raw from Christina's death and the venting session she and Svetlana had had over the weekend with the vodka.
The topic of Anatoly's sister caught Myka off guard and she looked to the Russian man, tilting her head to the side some as she listened. She could see how that would have such an effect on someone. It wasn't easy watching a loved one die in front of you. Thinking if you had been able to do something, then they wouldn't have died. Had she moved faster, she could have saved Sam. Well, no. That was an artifact and had sealed her fate as a pawn to the Regents, the Warehouse and maybe it didn't matter. Because the Warehouse had been her happy place, where she felt at peace. But she could have stopped Sam's death. She could have stopped Helena's if she had been able to think of a way to diffuse the bomb.
As he made the comment on her being a friend, Myka paused as she'd been about to take another drink. Because Myka wasn't known for friends. The Warehouse? They were her family. Friends? She didn't have those. But she didn't know if Anatoly really had them, either. She knew he didn't interact a lot with people, not that she could see. He had his family. So perhaps they were alike in that. Huh. Go figure.
"It's not uncommon in my line of work. Watching people die. Partners.... but..." Taking another drink, Myka let out a slow breath, "It makes me wonder if we're just... completely out of control of it. First Sam..." Myka didn't know if she'd ever truly move on from him. Even in knowing that he had died because of an artifact... it didn't take away the pain. And if she was a pawn of the Warehouse? She had meant it when she had told Pete that she thought she'd feel better but didn't...."It was my fault. Maybe not in the way I thought, but the Warehouse? Sometimes I wonder..."
She had already voiced this with Pete after they realized his mom was a Regent. And it wasn't like Anatoly knew of the Warehouse. They could only tell one person, but that didn't hold here. They were fictional, anyone could look it up.
"Sometimes it feels like someone is pulling our strings... that we have no real say one way or another. And not just because we aren't real to people... but that somehow, we're meant to watch all of this suffering. We bag and tag and fix it, but there's always a negative side effect. Loss...."
Myka didn't even know what she was talking about. It was vague yet specific. But not on the level of Helena or Svetlana. Her mind was in two places and she was mixing analogies. But she was at least talking. That was something.
"Perhaps it's my destiny to be blown up. Twice in under five months? That has to say something...."