[—and there goes clint, finding ways to break through the cracks that make her vulnerable. maybe wanda will just chalk it up to him being a dad, knowing about these kinds of things.

her expression pinches, brow furrowed, and she looks down a moment—blinking quickly. how embarrassing that crying comes so easy to her since she last saw him. she's just so tired of losing what and who she loves, there are just no more words for it but to let her tears fall. funny how those never seem to dry out.

with a deep breath, she picks her head up again, opening her mouth and puffing air out. as if surfacing out the water to breathe.]

Ten.

[clint is reserving his judgement (if there's any to give), just wanting to hear her talk about them. that's fair, she thinks, and—honestly? she wishes talking about them would bring them back.]

They had... the perfect smiles. Tommy was freckly, I was freckly when I was a kid. Loud, always checking Billy was with him. [quiet are her steps as she walks back to the bench, sits herself down.] Billy, he — [a short laugh, closing her eyes for a moment, as if remembering.] had a toothy smile, was quieter, cuddled anytime he could.

[but the reality was, her time with them was incredibly shortlived. she mourns losing them as much as she mourns not being able to spend more than a few short days with them. she opens her eyes again, staring down at her hands. she wanted what other wandas had.]

I loved them.