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Tatum/Rath
"You think I don't know that?" Tatum muttered back, still unable to really look at him either. She thought about it all the time. Emma herself was quite fond of flashing her gun around, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't seen a person or two shot. But that was just the business. "Don't talk about him," she snapped about their father, lifting her head finally. "He's the last person I need. I would never-- I'd never let my daughter be anywhere near him."

It was easy to get riled up when it came to Michael Donnelly. "Do you know what he wanted to do? He said we could just-- make it go away, quietly he said. He wanted me to go away, have her, and just.. give her away and come home like nothing happened. Like she never happened. That was his final offer, what kind of shit is that? It's my problem, and I'll fix it. I'd rather do this than have his help."

She trailed off for a moment, nodding her head. "We did, didn't we?" she sighed. "I'm not a very good big sister," she admitted. Before she knew it though, she was getting worked up again, tensing up in her chair as he snapped at her. "I dunno. Maybe our parents spent too much time trying to teach us how to act picture perfect instead of acting like ourselves. Accepting us."