Redhawk Caldera But I can't fight anymore for you

It was a little terrifying how much gratitude that one word elicited from her. She hadn't thought he would say it. This entire conversation had been a roller coaster of mostly her own making, but in the end, he'd... agreed.

She hadn't forced him to, not enough to discredit the meaning of it within her own perceptions. He could have said no and they could have gone their separate ways. This didn't need to change anything for them, but it did change everything for her. They'd never put any words to whatever this thing was that they had. They'd never made any promises, or even really spoken about what they meant to each other. Bronco had shown he cared... but so had Fig. So had her father, and her mother, and a dozen others who'd walked in and out of her life.

So had Penn.

Fennec walked towards him wordlessly and moved to rest her head against him, whatever part she found. If he didn't pull away, she'd stay there for a long moment, just trying to let the emotions of this conversation fade into something more reasonable.

I won't say anything. No one has to know until you want them to. She said, finally. But.... thank you.

She probably should apologize for freaking the fuck out over this, but she couldn't. Instead, thanks was about as close as she could come right now, but she meant it. She wouldn't have blamed or hated him for writing her off. But he didn't. He never did.