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[ she's season one flavor but i could do au ]

[ As any good mother would, she is ready for him when he comes home, ready for whatever injuries and scrapes he might have, flitting around the kitchen with the grace only Grace has. Still, she knows he's late just from her literal internal clock so she sends a message to his phone.]

FROM MOM Just checking on you, dear.

Edited 2020-05-18 15:27 (UTC)

[ It is a strange sensation... concern. That is what it is, isn't it? That slight twist in her chest whenever he comes back with a gash on his forehead or bruised wrecked knuckles. She doesn't have a heart, Reginald reminded her of this over and over. So it was not possible and yet, here she is as she pulls out the well-used, well-stocked first aid kit and sets it on the kitchen table before him, feeling that same twist more than before. ]

Hold out your hand, Diego.

It's fine, Mom.

[It isn't. The gash is deeper than he'd realized when he was out on the streets doing the only thing he knows how to do. No matter how fast and how hard he ran away from this place years ago, he never really escaped it. The Academy. Dad. The training. The purpose drilled into his head from the second he could understand what the words even meant.

Still. The words that fall out of his mouth don't stop him from sitting down at the kitchen table and holding his hand out toward her. Obedient, but with Mom it's different. With Dad it was always fear. Knowing there really wasn't any other choice. Mom... she's softer. More like a real person than the Monocle could ever pretend, and isn't there a terrible irony in that?]