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Summary
Jinx looks up at her father, at SilcoSilcoSilco, the unnatural, glowing fuchsia of tears beginning to form in her eyes. The way her voice sounds to herself is muddy, flashes of pink and silk and barbed wire flitting across her mind's eye as she nearly whispers, "...yes." and the weight of the word presses down against her chest in a way that just feels right. Comforting, like a hug but from inside. Disconcerting, to most others, but it settles her in her place. Settles her as his. Settles him as hers.
And as he views his daughter kneeling on the pristine wood of his office floor, right knee just barely touching a long-dried bloodstain, there is a strike of...of something. Something hits him between the eyes, sharp and quick and delicious, and her submission sparks within Silco a vibrancy. Incandescence. The terrible, glorious beauty of a bomb destroying, vaporizing everything in its range. The electricity that runs up his spine at the sight of her desperate tears, it is as striking and impossible to mimic as the gaze that Jinx has fixed upon him.