Lion Head Mesa Running is a victory

She didn't sing because she didn't think it was good, and it brought back more memories than it was worth. This, this was a one time thing, never to be repeated again. Still, Genie managed a smile in response, but said nothing. Nothing, until Pipit asked for a story...about herself. Her first reaction was: what the fuck, who would want to know about me. Her second reaction was: no, I can't tell stories. Her third was: This is a stranger.

She tensed, and her amber eyes turned guarded for less than a second before returning to normal. "About me?" Genie said, almost hesitantly. "Um, I don't think I'm very interesting...and I don't really have any interesting stories to tell, you know, I don't think you'll wanna hear it," she lifted one shoulder in a shrug, almost helpless. Genie didn't want to disappoint Pipit, but her wariness and sense of self-preservation was higher than her curiousity for the female, and her urge to please her.

This, this, she was not comfortable with. Her stories were still new, and the wounds they brought were still raw. Genie tended to detach herself from it — she feared that a breakdown was imminent of she even thought about it, thought for long enough, let alone tell someone who was practically a stranger.

"I have a brother," she offered then, the one person who didn't hurt her to mention. It was almost a peace offering, of sorts, as if to tell Pipit that it wasn't her that was the problem, but Genie herself.