[Caitlyn peers closely at the person seated across from her, trying to pick out small details in mannerisms, the color of the eyes, anything to help her identify who's behind the mask. Blue eyes, blonde hair, the accent...
Her mother's words sting. They're close enough to something she would really say that Caitlyn can't help but be reminded of all the scolding she's received for her choice of career, all the words that, over the years, built up layers of frustration and resentment until she couldn't even speak to her mother anymore. And yet, somehow it stings even more that this girl, who claims to be her sister, is being so dismissive of 'their' mother's affection. Caitlyn misses her mother dearly, she would give anything in the world to have her mother give her an approving touch or a kind smile, and this stranger is brushing them aside as though they're meaningless.]
We needn't be adversaries. I just want to know who you are. [There's something familiar about the stranger. She knows that accent.] Take off the mask.
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Her mother's words sting. They're close enough to something she would really say that Caitlyn can't help but be reminded of all the scolding she's received for her choice of career, all the words that, over the years, built up layers of frustration and resentment until she couldn't even speak to her mother anymore. And yet, somehow it stings even more that this girl, who claims to be her sister, is being so dismissive of 'their' mother's affection. Caitlyn misses her mother dearly, she would give anything in the world to have her mother give her an approving touch or a kind smile, and this stranger is brushing them aside as though they're meaningless.]
We needn't be adversaries. I just want to know who you are. [There's something familiar about the stranger. She knows that accent.] Take off the mask.