Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The only sound to be heard at their dinner table was the clock ticking away in the background. That was how most of their dinners went: an awkward, overwhelming silence. No small talk. Not anything save for maybe a small discussion about their next mission.
So it startled Rose when he suddenly spoke, his tone carrying a bit of agitation. "Huntsgirl."
(She so desperately wished he would call her "Rose").
She looked up from the piece of lettuce she was absentmindedly flicking around her plate with her fork. "Yes?"
"You seem to be distracted lately. And you were late getting home today. Why?"
"I…," Rose started, but paused. I got a "D" on my history test yesterday. Today at lunch I spilled soda all over the lunch table and had to spend the last fifteen minutes of my lunch break trying to clean it up. Courtney invited me to spend the night at her house tonight but I told her no because I know we're probably going to spend it looking for the scarab beetle. I have a massive crush on this boy at school and I want to go out with him but I'm not sure how to ask him.
Those were all the things that she wanted to say to him. The man who had raised her, put a roof over her head and clothes on her back. He was basically her father, she should be able to talk to him about what's on her mind.
But he wouldn't care. She knew that.
"I was late because I had….an audition."
"For what?"
"The drama club is performing Antony and Cleopatra. I…thought it might be fun to try out." Rose looked down, fidgeting nervously with a loose thread on her jeans in order to avoid his gaze.
The Huntsman said nothing.
"Is it…okay if I do the play?" She mumbled quietly, he almost hadn't heard it.
Another long pause.
"As long as it doesn't distract you from your duties."
Rose wanted to believe that his approval came from a place of wanting her to be happy, but the reality was that he simply wasn't interested in her personal life. She was a tool to him. Nothing more, nothing less.
Despite knowing this, a part of her wanted him to come and watch her. To silently cheer her on from the crowd. For someone to be cheering her on. "It's happening two weeks from tomorrow."
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
And then, the sound of his chair sliding backwards. "Get ready, Huntsgirl, we're going to search for the beetle."
As Rose made her way to the kitchen with her dirty plate, she crumpled up the play ticket she had been keeping in her pocket and threw it in the trash.
