They rode in silence for quite awhile, Bra wanting to make idle chit chat, but not knowing how, not knowing if anything would send her over the edge like it had last night at the party.
Bastard! There’s more to life then your Dogdamned pride!
Pan sat next to her, snuggled down in the warm leather seat, her face tilted back to greet the midmorning sun, content and relaxed for the first time since before he had snapped every thread left in her body the night before.
Bra was tempted to drive all day, just following the sun, if it meant that it would keep Pan at ease, just like this.
But she couldn’t—at some point they would run out of gas. At some point the sun would duck behind some clouds, at some point they would run into traffic, or traffic would run into them.
At some point Pan would catch on and make her stop…
“Bra?”
Bra looked over at her, seeing the dull twinkle to her eyes, seeing the careless ponytail that her hair was pulled back into, the slight color to her cheeks that the wind had brought them. She really was gorgeous when she didn’t try to be…as miserable as she must be inside, and as little as she had tried to be, her outfit was simple but noticeable, her hair sleek and not a hair out of place.
Bra shook her head. Pan needed a friend, not a beauty consultant.
“Yeah?”
“You know, you can talk to me…I won’t break.”
Bra blushed guiltily. She should have known that Pan was aware of why she was so quiet.
“I…Pan, I just don’t know what’s safe to talk about, I don’t want to—”
“All topics are touchy, Bra, they are with any person. Some topics too personal, others not personal enough. Some too stupid, too intelligent, too practical, too odd. No subject is perfect,” Pan said quietly, her voice content, with a twinge of sadness, or maybe regret. Just the same, her voice was beautiful, like dark wind chimes, their colorful and melancholic tones floating on the air on a day when the world just doesn’t seem right, but you do.
“You know what I mean,” Bra muttered, her mood towards Pan wavering between pity and pitiful.
Pan smiled, kinda. Her smiles hadn’t been the same since the party had started the night before. They’d been quieter, sadder, less bright and goofy. Instead of lighting up her face, they merely twinkled like a dim and distant star on a dark night. Her lips didn’t draw back to show her teeth, her mouth didn’t part with childish laughter…they just drew apart now, her teeth barely gleaming between her lips.
“I know what you mean, Bra…and I understand that you might want to treat me like a china doll, but I’ve suffered through worse…I’ll survive this…maybe…”
Bra nodded curtly, mentally scolding herself. Scolding herself for almost getting angry with Pan for being mellow and quiet and sad…and scolding herself for scolding herself—Pan would beat the shit out of her if she knew what she was thinking.
“Well…what do you want to talk about?” she tried tentatively, testing the ice.
Pan rolled her eyes.
“Do you really think that’s the wisest thing to ask me? I want to talk about killing him…even though I’m incapable…but I’m not about to let myself.”
Bra threw her hands in the air, despite the cars in front of her and the slope they were on. Pan wasn’t phased in the least.
“Oh! Yeah! Depend on me for all conversation!”
Pan snickered. “It’s what we usually do, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, well, usually you don’t want my—”
“Try talking about the torture you’re going to put me through today. There’s a good topic.”
Bra looked at her skeptically.
“Pan, I’m not going to—”
“Come on,” Pan grinned, looking up at her from her slouched position in the passenger seat. “I need something to do to keep my mind off of it, this might as well be it! Besides, a promise is a promise. This way, it works out to both of our advantages.”
“How’s that?”
Pan grinned, a genuine Son smile, just a little toned down. “You get me in a dress, I get free clothes, and a certain saiyan-asshole gets to keep his head!”
Bra laughed.
“Well, first we’re going to go to Tamako’s Tailorshop…she has the cutest little sundress, it would be adorable on you!….”