[the way himeka looks away, considers her words an offer to distance themselves from her should her actions (or inaction? or the life she leads?) makes them uncomfortable. wanda doesn't think it's fair that she would do that, but recognizes that sentiment within herself, too.

closing the circle, wanda steps closer to himeka and holds her hand, too. they stand at an odd triangular shape, making eye contact with the other woman.]

Don't even think about it. I don't know about Nero, [she turns to nero, too, squeezing his hand, but turning her gaze back on himeka after a pause.] but if we started thinking badly of each other because of — of the actions of others, then that wouldn't be fair.

[wanda knows what it's like, to be outcast and having others look at her questioningly, uncomfortably, just from being near them. it's a kinder assessment than what she would give herself, having done her own fair share of horrible things.

meaningfully,]

I trust you.

[she offers a small, albeit tight, smile, even as the world around them fades out from the remainder of himeka's memory. scarlet pulses around them, forming a box-like structure to encase them in, lights dimming and the screen of an old tv turning on, abruptly, on one of the faces of the box. wanda's breath catches in her throat as she recognizes what this is, a jingle playing, openings to different eras of sitcoms, a click and a tschhhh sound every time the display changes into a different 'opening' song. it's all in widescreen for them all to see.

this is when she pulls away from the two, as the screen displays the introduction cards for her sons, tommy and billy, seeing the fictional family portrait with herself and vision flood the screen. she stares for a moment, even as the screen fades into another opening song.]

I suppose... this one's mine.

[obviously—

even with how manufactured it may seem.]