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[ic] i'm outta bullets so fuck it, i use my knife
Kansas would never understand his father's entire story; maybe because he couldn't, or maybe because he didn't want to. He wished to believe his father wouldn't ever have abandoned them as he had; Kansas did not like thinking badly of those who had done him such good, even so long ago. He sighed, his shoulders shaking his entire body into one small shudder. Iskata's words were vague, but they were powerful. Kansas continued to look her directly in the eye. She was the only one he even had a chance of understanding.
The way she'd brushed the letter aside frightened him, somehow. He could sense her anger. Kansas let her touch him softly, like she had when he was a boy. He let her wipe away the last of his tears, even though her apology beckoned even more of them. Why... why are you sorry? I should be. I haven't... made sure you and Ember and Firefly are okay. I haven't done anything. He wanted me to. He moved closer to her, resting his chin on her shoulder for a few seconds and then pulling away. His next question had little to no expression attached to it. No whine or even stutter. He's not coming back, though. Like he says.