[ Mako doesn't bother answering aloud, instead leaving her expression to do most of the talking. She's like that with nearly everyone but with Chuck most of all, leaving the lion's share of what she means unsaid, relying on silence to convey her meaning. (The tic of an eyebrow, the purse of her mouth; a stare that could wither redwoods.)
It's a benefit (or a curse) of having grown up together, their formative years intertwined by both their fathers' careers and friendship. Some would say Chuck and Mako were practically destined to be at least as close, being their fathers' children, but temperaments waxed and then waned with the onset of adolescence, placing them at odds with one another the way siblings often were.
Tilting her head to one side, Mako doesn't draw back for fear of retaliation. If he brought it, she would match it. They both knew that. (Maybe she was counting on it.) ]
no subject
It's a benefit (or a curse) of having grown up together, their formative years intertwined by both their fathers' careers and friendship. Some would say Chuck and Mako were practically destined to be at least as close, being their fathers' children, but temperaments waxed and then waned with the onset of adolescence, placing them at odds with one another the way siblings often were.
Tilting her head to one side, Mako doesn't draw back for fear of retaliation. If he brought it, she would match it. They both knew that. (Maybe she was counting on it.) ]