[rough] "Daughter Vengence"

"I sat with my father only once.  I agonized over it.  After it was over, I understood all I wanted to do was overcome that feeling.  That stupid feeling of completing something because it had stuck in the brain, like a shopping list."  She twirled the mug around.  Only a little coffee was left, smearing the bottom like ink.

She leveled her eyes on me.  Grey.  Not the slightest glint of tears in them.

"I've tried not to become hard.  But it caught up with me.  Tried not to be like him, and I couldn't escape it."  She stopped twirling the mug on its edge.  "Here we are."

I measured my voice.  I didn't want to come off the wrong way.  "Why does it have to be like that?  We asked for something different..."

"Doesn't matter."  I wanted to argue the point, but now was not the time.  I picked up my mug even though it was mostly empty and acted a sip.

She pulled a tendril of hair back.  Her sleeve dropped with it, revealing a portion of her markings.  She was not shy showing them, to the contrary.  But she didn't advertise either.  "I've told you more than I've told anyone else.  I suppose that is why you are good at what you do."

"I've seen you dance.  You are good at what you do."

She didn't smile.  I didn't expect her too.  I would have in others.

Quickly, "Did the song come before the dance?"

A slight shudder in her shoulders.  I hit a nerve.  You are not so hard then.  No one is.

"The song came first.  Years before.  I was just a little girl and didn't even know of it for some time.  The dance...that drifted in my mind for just as long.  So, yeah, I think they evolved together."  Chuckle.  Not light or sharp.  "I sometimes think it's more than me.  Or him.  I guess it had to be."

"That's profound."

She didn't shrug.  I did expect her to.

"What am I then?  If this is more than me?"  She stared at me for an answer.  I asked the waitress for a refill.