"I know that!" With her prior outburst out of the way, it's easier for Michiru to keep her voice down. There's an obvious, raw edge to it that she can't quite stamp out, but that will come eventually.
She draws in another shaky breath, and then continues:
"But I would appreciate it, still, if you wouldn't say things like that."
She looks away, toward the now-chipped paint on the wall. She might not have any right to ask for something like that, but— she doesn't want to hear Haruka talk about dying, or think about her being hurt. She had said it so easily that it almost sounded inevitable, and the thought alone is enough to make Michiru feel like someone has a vice grip on her heart.
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She draws in another shaky breath, and then continues:
"But I would appreciate it, still, if you wouldn't say things like that."
She looks away, toward the now-chipped paint on the wall. She might not have any right to ask for something like that, but— she doesn't want to hear Haruka talk about dying, or think about her being hurt. She had said it so easily that it almost sounded inevitable, and the thought alone is enough to make Michiru feel like someone has a vice grip on her heart.