Quinn tries to her best to maintain her smile, yet she could feel them slowly cracking under the pressure of the heavy silence that now occupies the air. She has chosen her words carefully, but the Matriarch—Ana—are no fool either.

She knows enough regarding Quinn to make the inference, to reach the correct conclusion about the true reason behind the vagueness of her language, the venality that influences her speech and actions.

Confirming Quinn's worst nightmares, then: "Are you here to kill me now?" Ana asks, her voice low in a whisper as she no longer looks Quinn in the eye, but on the daggers that's hanging upon her belt.

Instead of thinking, her mind went blank, filled only with one word echoing forever and eternal: alone. She can either lie, escape, or answers the question in the affirmative by moving in.

"Ms. Quinn?" Ana's voice pulls her back to reality before she can choose, forcing her to gaze upon the face of the woman she'll kill, her dull blue orbs shining still despite the lack of light in the tent.

Her chest's glowing in Quinn's eye, far brighter than the radiance she sees on it in the forest. It was warm, but definitely not the morning sun; for it burns away the rust in her weary and sleepless mind, allowing it to fully process the Matriarch's question.

It was during that task does Quinn notice an obvious hole offered by the last word of the query. She looks at Ana, wondering if she has done so intentionally and find no answer in her mask of stoicism.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn reminds herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth before finally: "No," she replies in one word. Preparing the next sentence as a deflection, a distraction to another topic. "I'm here because.... I—" The words catch in her throat, realizing what she's about to say is too personal.

Recognizing this, Ana speaks nothing but squeezing her hand, still intertwined with hers. Patiently, she waits for Quinn to continue or pulls away her hand.

She does the former. "I'm here because I—I'm afraid, Ana." But not the latter, she lets their hand be connected still when she uttered her reason, and it's not even a lie or half-truth.

Tired from it, she hangs her head low, chuckling grimly to herself more than anything.

For while she manages to get what she wanted. "Afraid of what, Ms. Quinn?" She would much prefer telling Ana right there and then that she was indeed her assassin, instead of having her pursue this topic further.

Still, to do that would endanger her and her mission, so she stays the course.

"Because! I thought my savior is going to die." Forcefully injecting cheer into her sentence despite the fact that she whispered her last words with a smile fake and joyless.

"Why would you care about me, Ms. Quinn?" Ana questions, brows furrowed. The kind of expression that can't help but make Quinn do the same.

Deprived of rest, with tiredness aching from every bone of her body, and worry still filling her heart. "Do you think me cruel and unfeeling, Ana?" Quinn words tumble off cold and insulted. "Do you imagine me a monster who knows nothing but to take advantage of others? A parasite? A leech in the swamp?" Bitter and poisonous.

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"I—"

"Of course I would care about you!" she admits candidly. "I—you're my savior, Ana!" Only catching herself when she notices that she stands tall now, her shadow falls deep into Ana who no longer hold her hand.

Regrets fill her quick as she sits back down in shame. "I apologize, Ana." Rubbing her own knuckle, hoping it will calm her. "I don't mean to scream at you."

"Is that the only reason you care about me, Ms. Quinn?"

"... no." Quinn easily admits, sinking deeper into her seat, too tired to attempt to find a half-truth to speak of.

Watching Quinn's figure growing smaller and smaller. "Then all is forgiven, Ms. Quinn." Ana tries to hearten her with words and an insignificant yet genuine smile, but she doesn't look up.

"... thank you," she responds, hollow and defeated.

Seeing no other options, Ana reaches out. Her hand is hovering above Quinn's right hand, prompting the woman to stop rubbing her knuckle and finally looks up to find Ana silently asking for permission.

As expected, it causes Quinn to smirk, a real one. "By all means." As she gave her consent.

Once more, their hand is entwined, sharing what little warmth they have for each other. With that thought, Ana mimics the movement of Quinn's left hand, massaging her knuckle as she further studies Quinn.

Her eye is sunk and shallow, her breathing is almost controlled but heavy still, as if—"How long has it been since you last have a proper rest, Ms. Quinn?"

Quinn snort at that, clearly expecting the question. "Four days ago, perhaps?"

And while Ana questions cause Quinn's grin to grow wider, her answer make Ana frown instead, wishing to interrogate her further about the reason she has deprived herself of repose so.

But when her eyes catch the sights of Quinn again, she swallows the inquiry and curiosity. "Do you want me to sing you to slumber, Ms. Quinn?" And chose to proffer help instead.

"Oh?" Quinn raises her eyebrows in disbelief. "You will sing me to sleep here?"

"Yes."

"And you are... serious? You're serious, yes?"

"Yes."

"I would be honored to!" Quinn declares proudly, threatening to wake up the other patient, forcing Ana to reprimand her with a look. "Apologies, Matriarch. I'm just too happy about the offer," she answers with an almost sheepish grin.

Ana sighs and moves to the side, giving Quinn enough space to lay her head upon the bed as Ana begun to sing. Her voice wasn't usually soothing, not suited to singing a lullaby.

So instead, she chooses a folk song, an old story about forbidden love and the sacrifice it requires before it became true. Every word she injects with magic not to hypnotize, but to calm people down.

She pulls her hand away from Quinn with regret when she notices the woman was half asleep, allowing her to use both of her arms as a cushion for Ana can offer none.

Now having each hand free, she endeavors to utilize one of them for Quinn's comfort once again. Slow and kind—almost to the tune of her own music—does Ana brush her hair, hoping it will help.

It most likely does, seeing how quick Quinn fell asleep after it.

With her mouth and either eye shut, the woman looks harmless now. The usual jagged, sharp, and exaggerated smile that adorns her face are gone, replaced by the tranquility of a peaceful rest.

Quinn doesn't lie to her at all during their conversation today. Ana would be willing to admit it was perhaps because she gave the woman an obvious escape once or twice, but the moment Quinn voluntarily broach the subject of being afraid, there's nothing except truths that drips from her tongue.

Truths that if Ana have to guess, she's afraid of, by the way she seems so candid and defenseless, with no calculation before each sentence like how their usual interaction goes.

Ana love that Quinn, wanted to see more of her.

After all, she's right. She was no parasite, no leech on society; not unfeeling, though Ana believes she can still argue about the cruel descriptor. And if she was right about all that but one, perhaps she was also right to care about Ana.

She can only hope it last.