“Are you sure? Are you really, really sure?” She asks, her gaze make his stomach twist and turn for a few moments, before settling again.
“Of….” He stops and clears his throat, swallowing a mouthful of saliva, squinting his eyes and holding a hand up to his throat as he does. “O-Of course I bloody well am, months of planning, not to mention the nine years my sister lost because of that sleazy pieces of shit, let’s just do it!” He blurts out, she smiles, as she brushes a hand against his cheek.
“Good, I was worried you were going to get soft on me,” she says, as she lifts his head up by the chin, and looks at him, as if he was a fine diamond and she was the jeweler examining her handiwork, which, is not far from the truth.
“So what?” She asks.
“So am I FUCKING ready, or what?”
She laughs, “Honey, you were born ready,” she says, as she steps back and looks him up and down. “I don’t know about him though, he might not be as ready as he thinks he is,” she says, looking over his shoulder, into their reflection in the mirror.
“He won’t be, you just make sure when he confesses you catch it all on tape, I want that fucker to burn by his own words, and then, I’ll let him know who I really am, I just hope he falls for it,” he says, as he stars into their reflections as well.
She grips him tightly by the shoulders and smiles, a faint, distant smile, letting a tear run down her cheek, “He won’t, and he’ll pay, because, if I didn’t know, I’d swear you were your sister.”