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“I…don’t know,” you said, “It’s not as though I haven’t thought about it, but I don’t think I want to name them <span class="mu-i">after</span> anything, or anybody. I feel like that might make them lean towards that instead of forging their own path. That’s something my father wanted for me, so I want that for my own children.”
Hilda’s mouth turned the very slightest bit upward. She wasn’t somebody who put much into a smile. “Your father’s a good example. I don’t talk with him much. But he’s good.” She looked back towards the café an impatient little sigh, “Though with a name like Richter…”
“Well, it isn’t the same thing as <span class="mu-i">Der Richter Uber Alles</span>,” you sniffed, “It’s a completely ordinary name.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Hilda said flatly, “More that it’s a name for somebody who decides. I wonder if your father and mother thought about that that way.”
“Maybe,” you said, and waved to the waiter when he exited the building with a tray and looked about- you and Hilda were the only ones dining outside the place at the moment. “Though I guess I have time to be sure. Maddalyn has as much if not more say in the matter, after all.” A set of baked meat buns were placed before you, with a couple worn mugs full of tea with the bags still in- a pot of sugar and milk were both beside them. You picked at a meat bun- it was full of beef with a salty brown sauce, a nice, savory treat, small enough not to impose itself. “Quite nice.”
“Mmhm,” Hilda agreed, and in the time it took you to eat one, she had eaten three. Ravenously. “Your hand…”
“Ah,” you took off your glove on your right hand and flexed your prosthetics, “Maddalyn had it made for me. I’m still getting used to it, but I think I’ve gotten good at using it like a real hand.”
“I didn’t know that kind of thing existed.” Hilda stared at the metal joints as she reached for another meat bun- she was about ready to have eaten half already.
“I’m very fortunate,” you nodded and worked the fingers a few more demonstrative times before donning the glove again, “Though my shooting’s still very poor.”
“I could…” Hilda’s voice rose then fell, “Teach you…”
You noticed a hesitation there. “That’d be appreciated very much.”
“No. I shouldn’t,” Hilda leaned heavily on the table between you, “I know we. I mean, I…I’ve been a pain. Yet you keep coming back around. I used to dream of you. Nothing but. That’s stopped by now…I don’t want that coming up again. I don’t want to shove myself back on you again.”
