sorry i'm a shit daughter♡︎

𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓♡︎

Trying her best to hide her limp, she put her arms up, bringing them back down to her sides as she walked through the hallway. Her mother sat at a long table, filing her nails. "I'm here," Y/n huffed, standing at the other end of the table.

"I see," the Handler said, putting her nail file in the pocket of her jacket. She smiled fakely at her daughter. "How is the mission going?"

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head as she looked around the room. "How is it going? Mom, I told you I can handle this. Why did you have to send Hazel and Cha-Cha in to try and kill us?"

The Handler shrugged, "I thought you could use more help, Darling. And I thought you didn't care if he died."

"I don't," she deadpanned. "I'm just pretty pissed over the fact that-"

"Language," her mother said sternly.

She rolled her eyes, "Sorry, I'm pretty angry that you decided to send Commission workers in twice. Both of which times I almost died. The first time I had a gun pointed at the back of my head, and the second time I was shot. Does that sound like it would help to you?"

"Are you getting closer to him?"

"What? No, not really," Y/n shook her head. "I mean, he started acting slightly different. Slightly."

"Oh, don't doubt yourself, Darling. What have I told you about doubting yourself? You hold just as much power as you think you do. If you think you have enough power to rule a country," she shrugged, her voice trailing off. She reached into her jacket pocket to get out a box of cigarettes. After lighting one of them, she put it in her black cigarette holder. "I think that you'll be having much more of an effect on him than you think." She gestured to Y/n with a cigarette, "Hm?"

Y/n huffed, taking the cigarette and grabbing her mother's lighter, "He doesn't trust me. How is that supposed to mean anything?" She put the cigarette in her mouth and lit the lighter, putting the flame next to the cigarette. She flipped the lid closed and handed the lighter back to her mother. "If he doesn't trust me I can't get in his head. After being in the same place for ten minutes we hate each other."

The Handler took the cigarette out of her mouth, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Darling, trust isn't gained so easily. You may be able to gain his trust easier than others. Remember the power that you hold."

-

"What's in the bag?" Y/n asked, opening the door while she was still putting the cigarette out with her foot. She hopped into the van and slammed the door closed, turning to Five.

Five glanced at her and back to the building in front of them when his eyes suddenly went wide. "Shit," he muttered, turning to the bag that sat in the place of the center console. He grabbed the zipper and started unzipping the bag. "Hey," he sighed, moving things around. "Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores," he said, propping up the mannequin from the Gimble Brothers.

"You brought the fucking mannequin?" Y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

Five shook his head, looking out the windshield. "No, I'm not drunk," he shook his head again. He glanced at the mannequin, "I'm working." He paused before turning to Delores again, "Yes, it's about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or- will be made." He sighed, looking back out at the building. "We just have to wait."

-

There was a group of boys kicking a ball and yelling while they passed in front of the van. Five had the eye in his hand, moving it around. Y/n pointed to the kids that had just passed the car. "What do you call that infestation of small things over there?"