As Illowy spoke Kyle grew more and more on edge. There was nothing more he hated than being pitied. He could deal with anything, pain, being hated, screamed at, anything but being pitied. With a sigh of frustration Kyle pushed himself to his feet and turned around to look at Illowy. ”Shut up!” he exclaimed exasperated. ”Listen Magpie, I need you to promise me something. Right here, right now. You can never say sorry to me again. I’m sick of it. All I get is pity and sad looks from everyone else, I won’t get it from you. You do that for me, I’ll not keep any more secrets from you. We either have a deal, or were done. Yeah?”

He sounded angry and frustrated but one look into his eyes saw he was struggling to keep any tears from coming to his eyes. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal, to be the same idiot trouble maker his mom would scold. Be the same obnoxious kid that his dad would yell at when he broke things. But he knew he couldn’t, nothing would ever be the same again. Not now

Not after Duke

Kyle jumped up and snapped at her so quickly it made the girl flinch as she stared up at him. She pressed her lips in a tight line, unsure if it was to keep her tears from coming out or to keep herself from snapping back. How was he expecting her to feel in this situation? Of course she was sorry. Sorry for failing him in realizing sooner how bad things were. Sorry for not being able to help. Sorry for everyone now suffering because of what had happened... it seemed only natural.

Just as natural, however, was the family trait of preferring any other emotion towards them other then pity. The girl choked back the need to argue, to snap back and yell. Tight lips pursed slightly as she held his gaze, grappling with the decision to let him win this stare down and agree, or let her temper get the best of her.

Sucking in a breath, she leaned back in her seat a bit, loosing crossing her arms over her stomach as she did so and forfeiting the staring contest, "Yeah..." she muttered. Thin fingers tugged at her sweater as she thought, a habit usually occupied with a pencil or her wand to twirl through her fingers when she was thinking. Then her eyes lifted up to him, "No more secrets? S'that mean I ought to tell you what I saw in the forest back at school?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet. After all, the MoM representatives were only in the next room, and she wasn't fond of the idea of more questioning, "You know... the night you came to see me?"