(no subject)
Cathy was sitting on one of the crates outside the tent after the matinee in Mexico, filling out some paperwork for the boss. It wasn’t anything complicated, just an insurance policy he needed the basics filled in on so he could sign it on the bottom. One of the shadows that’d been crossing her lightsource all morning stopped, and after a long moment she looked up. She’d honestly expected it to be Jerome, looking for the boss again, but it wasn’t.
“Hi, sis,” he said, and Cathy set down her paperwork, jumping off the crate.
She stood, unsure, in front of him a moment, reaching up to touch his shoulder and thought better of it. He didn’t look the same at all-he held himself differently, and looked taller.
“Hi, Trowa,” she told him, and gave a little disbelieving laugh, blinking back tears. “You-you’re all right?”
He looked good. Her little brother’d gone away broken to war and come back whole. She didn’t think of the implications then.
"Yeah."