Dollet Pub, Second Floor, Saturday Evening Fandom Time (NFB)

[angelo_wings]

Rinoa didn't know which part of this meeting was the most terrifying. Squall's absence left her the most exposed; her Knight was off meeting with Quistis, attempting (yet again) to resign his post. That wasn't so scary, except it meant he was in Garden and not here by her side. But she had insisted. She could handle this herself. A show of trust, to meet her father here without a Knight hovering over her shoulder.

Five months ago, she'd convinced him to hand over the records to the D-District prison. And now, she had gotten them mostly in order. It was the best that she could do. She had brought them here, to the Shining Bomber pub; perhaps not the best tactical move, but Dollet was still neutral ground, and it was easier to go over the files (should that be necessary) than if she had moved them wholesale into a storage locker. His detail should be able to carry the crates out of here tonight.

Some of them were here already; she recognized faces, if not names. That made her feel better about sitting here, upstairs, quietly sipping a drink. She imagined her father was nearby, even if he wasn't going to show himself too early. Or perhaps he was running late, but had sent grunts ahead to secure the area. It was hard to say.

She was exhausted. She was itching to re-open the crates and spot-check the files one last time. She was convinced somehow that he wouldn't show, that the deal would be off, that something would conspire to keep the political prisoners in jail forever. Maybe the D-District had burned down late last night, and everyone inside had died. And therefore it was all her fault, because she hadn't worked quickly enough.

Okay, no matter what, she was going to sleep in tomorrow. Because she had been breathing these files for so long that sleep felt like something that happened to other people.

(NFB, just for her (NPC) father plz)

Comments

[estranged-dads.livejournal.com]

Acting President Caraway climbed the steps to the upper room of the pub and gave his daughter a tired smile. "Hello, Angel." Normally, he liked formalities, but singlehandedly trying to keep an empire from falling apart was taking its toll. He gestured at the crates. "Are these them?"

[angelo_wings]

"Hi, Dad," she said. He looked tired. She could see it around his eyes. Maybe he'd notice how tired her were, too.

"They are," she said. "I ... I had some help. A lot of help. Some people chipped in a little, and some worked a lot. The files are all indexed and sorted, and ... and some are just bits and scraps that I don't even know what to do with, but those are separated out, too, and I did my best with those, I really did. And I left the gray areas separate from the really clear cut ones. And I double-checked it all, and I did random spot-checks, but I'm scared I missed things, or messed it up, and I know you said you weren't going to trust me not to change it just to get people out of prison but Daddy, if these are wrong it's a mistake and please, blame me, I mean, don't blame them, don't ... don't throw it all out if I made mistakes, because I tried, I swear I did, I ..."

Okay, Rinoa really hadn't slept much for ... a while. Lately. That hadn't all meant to come out, but ... well. At least he'd know she was taking this seriously?

Possibly from her putting her forehead in her hands and just trying to breathe for a minute.

[estranged-dads.livejournal.com]

She looked as tired as he felt. More, even. And she was panicking...

What had he done to her? He'd just wanted her to understand the gravity of the task, to understand that he couldn't just let people out of prison without a good reason, to understand that sometimes "good" and "fair" and "right" weren't as important as the practicalities of keeping people fed and sheltered and protected. But this... she looked like she hadn't slept much.


"Good," he told her. "I trust your judgment." So long as she wasn't being silly and idealistic, she had a good head on her shoulders.