[it's hard to watch - hard to see her sister so sad and lost and curling inward and into snowfall. this despair she's feeling? vi knows it. it may not be exact down to its bones, but she'd felt it when jinx left, and not just here in trench - she'd felt it all those years ago, too - when she'd been dragged away, imprisoned.

and now jinx has made her own prison - an icy isolation of one lone girl, head down, nails digging in.

vi only catches the beginnings of it - it's the why that causes her to stop moving, stop looking (oh, how silco would laugh at this, the idea of her looking for him) long enough to hear why do i keep ruining everything?

well, that's just ...not true. that's wrong and it cannot stand. she's not hearing it. jinx shouldn't be saying it. she'd seen silco's reaction when he'd pulled that little ashtray from his bag, all marked up with colors - seen his face, how quickly he'd shoved it back in the bag - how much he hadn't wanted to be observed in a moment of weakness. she hates it. fuck, she hates it so much, but she says it anyway, her voice firm.]

You didn't ruin it. You didn't make him go. Whatever you're thinking, you didn't make this happen. Saying it doesn't make it true. It just happened.

[and it sucks. for you, mostly, but well, that makes it suck for me. she moves toward her sister, punching down hard into the ice.]