Nami
Well fuck me, Ezra was right.
She'd heard the footsteps ten minutes ago. Light, too quick for a mere child. A child's gait nonetheless, trying to be quiet and failing.
The things in the tanks had stirred as she passed. The giant with white eyes had tracked her through the dark. But nothing touched her. OG's work, probably. Or Ezra's.
Nami had waited. Sitting in the dark. Listening to her niece navigate past the tanks and the things inside them.
Brave little thing. Just like your father.
The girl stood in the doorway, white hair practically glowing in the dark. Chip dust on her fingers. Breathing hard like she'd run the whole way down.
Eleven years old. Sneaking into Sublevel Four.
"You look so much like your father." Nami's voice cracked. How long had it been since she'd used it? "It's like staring at the girl version, but tiny."
Her brother's jawline. That stubborn set to the shoulders. Even the way she stood — feet planted, chin up, refusing to show fear.
