[ here's the thing about manuela and shame. it's a complicated dance, and one she hasn't so much as perfected as she has grown used to, which is just a convoluted way of saying it's complicated. for manuela, shame had become a learned thing. society was quick to teach her what was and was not okay for a woman, and a woman of her age at that. and so shame is, in many ways, a familiar friend for her.

but neither does that make shame an easy thing to swallow. familiarity only ever prepares her for what to feel, not necessarily allows her to work through it in any meaningful way.

which makes all of this so much more uncomfortable than it should have to be. the last time she had seen blade, they both couldn't turn the opposite way in the hallway fast enough. and the time before that... well. the wound is still fresh, the hurt is still raw. it is hardly the first time a man has ever dismissed her, but somehow it hurts a particular kind of hurt when it had looked like — at least for a moment there — something like a friendship taking root between them.

but it's fine! of course it's fine. she is a professional, through and through, and all she really has to do is get through the first few lines of dialogue with him, then hopefully get thoroughly distracted by way of getting her guts rearranged. she can manage. ]

Of course you do. And I'm sure if you didn't, you would have found any number of reasons not to have to see me again.

[ going entirely off-script? speaking louder than she has to, with more emotion in her voice than is necessary? this is manuela, managing. ]