[B][center][h2]Paige Kennedy [/h2][/center][/b]

Listening to him talk, Paige's thoughts recoiled as he explained that he had no choice in leaving Delta and she felt a twinge of hellfire in her veins. He did have a choice and he made it when he shut everyone out when they tried to help him. Now he was lecturing her about "making the most of it" after she'd just bailed him out of a gangster racketeering screwjob that probably would have landed him in prison or dead. For a second, she felt like [i]she[/i] was back at the Winter Party, but her expression lightened some as he seemed to become aware of what he was saying and moved on to a slightly more self-deprecating point of view. She could feel the cloud of haze from the sake spreading through her mind and decided she might want to slow down on it. She could shoot straight as an arrow, but her chopstick form wasn't the tidiest particularly when a healthy buzz was settling in.

She wasn't far out of high school when she attended her first non-family wedding. Then in college a few more and so on after. Most of her old friends and acquaintances took on more mainstream professions like schoolteachers and nurses where they met their significant other. Being there always made her feel markedly out of place. Oftentimes, the "men" were too afraid to approach her and the women regarded her as something of a novelty. Some of them were raising children and buying homes to settle down while she was carrying a gun and hunting fugitives for the Federal Government. Everyone always seemed to think it so fascinating she'd made it into the Marshals, but she could tell their praises were only window dressing. For a woman like her, it wasn't [i]normal[/i]. She was an anomaly.  It was the way of things.

"I enjoy what I do, Milo." She said finally with a sigh. "You make things out of metal and I..." She shrugged her shoulders, "I do what I do." Relationships were never her strong suit and he knew that. Her firm moral upbringing blended with the seedy nature of her work had produced, over time, a twisted layer of barbed wire and shattered glass that she saved her heart under. She'd seen people at their most depraved do things that most could scantly imagine if they tried. There was no escaping the effects of it. "It just wears on you sometimes." She said looking back at him. Ironically, but not surprisingly, the conversation was making it's way back to work again. There really wasn't an escape from it. Being a lawman (or woman) at her level began to define oneself as a person and she knew she'd be lying to herself if she didn't like the thought of it. When he said she was probably one of the best in Sol already, it was like music to her ears. 

Still, her mother, a fiery lawyer and presently a judge found her father [i]a preacher[/i] of all things. He was a chaplain in the Air Force when they first met. Then Ana had found Milo and they seemed to be made for each other until his accident. She shook her head again lightly at the thought of it. "I'm just kind of a mess right now, I guess." She said, her accent becoming more prevalent. She downed the rest of her sake cup again.

[@RoccanIronclad]