Finley squinted at Marnin. That was a bad excuse and he knew it. She stared him down as he talked a little to Gwynnie, and he finally noticed. Glancing back at her, Marnin worked his jaw. He didn’t walk back to Finley, though. Marnin approached the pilot and whispered a few things into his ear. The man nodded and turned back to his work. Marnin stood up straight, looking out the windshield.
“What’s wrong with daddy?” Gwyneth asked as she climbed into Finley’s lap. She shook her mass of curls, sill loosely held back my the band Marnin gave her.
“I don’t know, sweetling,” Finley said, running her hands through the little girls’ smooth, blonde hair. She absentmindedly wove while she was thinking. Marnin had said something about the Sandman wanting to watch them and study them. What was that about? And how<span style=”display: inline !important; float: none; background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,’Times New Roman’,’Bitstream Charter’,Times,serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;”> had </span>she seen Harley and him accuse her of those terrible things? It was almost one of her worst nightmares. That one was in nothing to the dream she had when she got a call straight from the MonArc that her friends had died in prison.
her weaving hands stopped. Gwyneth was dozing lightly on her and Finley didn’t want to wake her up, so, softly unweaving what small part of a traveler’s braid she had started, Finley pulled Gwyneth to her chest and listened to the small rising and falling of her chest. It was an almost mechanical thing, so soothing that Finley’s own eyes started to droop.
She sank into the hard but soothingly cold metal of the wall and fell asleep.
i could've gone outside to take a walk, but i know that i wouldn't've come back