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"My dad died when I was 16." Mikaela sighs, resting her head in her hand and staring off into the treeline. Danny sits beside her, sharing the same log, and brings the cigarette between his fingers to his lips. His mask is up—not all the way, but enough to reveal his mouth—resting on his nose.
It's odd to sit next to her so casually, but he appreciates having the opportunity. The other three survivors are long dead thanks to Danny's swift work, leaving the two of them plenty of time to be alone. This is the most convenient way for them to meet, although he can see that it does disturb Mikaela to be a 'favourite', for lack of a better word.
Mikaela doesn't really run away from him anymore—when he's in his normal outfit, anyways—and Danny doesn't really stab her anymore, unless they're around other survivors. It's a mutual understanding. Neither want the others to know about their relationship beyond the fact that Danny very obviously finds her attractive.
Danny inhales smoke into his lungs, savouring the rising buzz in his chest. A cigarette is a rare luxury that he likes to save for moments like these—special moments between the drudgery. He exhales, disappearing in a plume of somewhat overexaggerated smoke. The Entity may give him cigarettes to quell his addiction, but she likes to make them inconvenient.
"I'm sorry." He replies through the cloud. He's not sure what else to say in immediate response. Danny knows that he certainly had no hand in Mikaela's father's death, but he feels the need to apologise for it anyways. 'I'm sorry' is the default.
Mikaela hums a laugh and Danny sees that she's smiling through the dissipating trails of grey.
"I found peace a long time ago. It was hard, and of course I miss him, but it was his time," she explains, smile slowly fading from her face as she continues to stare off into the fog. "I think about him sometimes... about what he would do in my situation. He had an answer for everything."
Danny feels a sudden weight growing in his chest. He looks away from Mikaela, turning to look into trees the same way she is. What do the survivors see that's so interesting out there? All he sees is swirling black mist creeping across the forest floor, between the trees, consuming all light that it touches. It's rather mundane. But the survivors stare for hours at seemingly nothing, watching with such genuine entertainment in their eyes.
"What about you?" Mikaela pipes up again, breaking eye contact with the fog to look at Danny instead. He can feel her gaze on him, but he can't bring himself to face her. "What about your family?"
He inhales again, holding it for a second longer this time before blowing the smoke out through his nose and mouth. What about his family? He thinks about his father, about the horror stories he told to inspire Danny's 'creativity', about the bruises he caused, about the abuse he put Danny through. The weight in his chest grows, and he can feel his face turning sour.
"My mom died during childbirth," Danny sighs, tapping off the excess ash from his cigarette into the grass. "I never got the chance to get attached, really. My dad, though... he..." He thinks about what he wants to say—what he wants Mikaela to know. "My dad died when I was 19. He was in the military."
Danny doesn't want to lie to her, but he doesn't want Mikaela's opinion of him to sour even more than it already—most definitely—is. His father was in the military, yes, but he didn't die in service. It was a knife that he had brought Danny back from service that killed him, that sliced him from gut to throat, that bled him dry. Danny remembers the excitement, the nausea and the guilt. And he remembers the sense of true freedom he felt afterwards.
"That must have been hard for you." Mikaela replies with genuine sympathy. It catches Danny off-guard and he finally looks back to meet her gaze. She's smiling again, this time with compassion behind her eyes. How can she be so sincere with him even knowing what a monster he is?
He finds himself smiling back at her this time, mouth exposed. This is the first facial expression he's ever made directly at her.
"Well, I found a way to cope," Danny hums with a somewhat sinister chuckle. "Although, I'm sure your coping mechanisms are a lot healthier."
Mikaela laughs, genuinely. It makes Danny feel warm inside, creating a soft tingle in his gut that only grows with every second he spends in her presence. He laughs too, with her, and it feels good. It feels good to have a shared experience with her, to relate to her, to understand her truly in some capacity that matters.
Danny craves to know more. He has 'moved on' from his grief a thousand times, trying to fill that hole gnawing away inside, but he thinks Mikaela could finally do the trick.