[she doesn't look away — can't look away, because the lessons from long ago, that looking away is the same as backing down, and both are a coward's move, have stuck with her — but she can't quite suppress a visible flinch. it's not exactly hidden, either, that she swallows down a tightness in her throat, and appears, overall, unnerved.

yima; the name only clicks now when he says it, when her eyes dart away for a brief moment to follow the gesture. she remembers the voice now, loud and clear — the one who'd whispered to her of freedom. a warm voice, words that sound too good to be true —

because they are.

her eyes flick back then, hard.]

Doesn't seem like you're doing a very good job of it. [she does her best to sound disaffected now, but there's a degree of tightness to her voice that she can't quite shake.] Your pitch needs a lot more work before you can call it your best.