"Onion"

"So apparently we're related," she told him.

He didn't budge, predictably enough. Evidently the idea was just as preposterous to him as it was to her.

"Some idiots out there think your parents aren't literally dead," she scoffed, "Just that they're dead to you. I even heard someone say that 'our' parents beat us both and kicked you out."

"Stop," he said.

She stopped.

He let the incident play in his head yet another time. He saw his own parents' blood. He felt their pulses fade.

"Damned morons," she muttered, putting an arm around him, "I don't know how I'm gonna tell Mom and Dad about this. A woman can't just be bigger and stronger that the guy she spends time with, I guess. And if she is, then it's gotta be with some younger brother."

He leaned into her. A sigh fell from his mask.

"Talk to me," she said, "Gimme a word."

After chewing on the silence, he said: "Disrespectful."

She chuckled, then realized the severity of his feelings and stopped.

"I hate how high-profile this all is," she grumbled, "Think you can help me handle this?"

He nodded.

"There's a good boy," she stroked his hair, "I'll be right next to you the whole ti-"

He shook his head.

"No?" she asked.

"I-I... c-can handle my h-half," he said.

---