<em>~Mila, listening to Marcus, Bo, Nicci, and Mari answer the questions~</em><br/><br/>Mila waited patiently for Bo and Nicci to join them, and when they did, it was clear that some sort of a bond had formed between the two.  Immediately, she felt a burst of jealousy that was completely unexpected, and she scolded herself for her immaturity.  She had come here seeking a relationship with the five people in the room with her, and for her to expect that no bonds would form that did not include her was absurd.  She tamped down the negative emotion, silently chiding herself for her insecurity.  Just because they liked each other did<em>not</em>mean that there would not be room in their hearts for her eventually.  She believed that.  She<em>had</em>to believe it; it was that view of love for which she had sacrificed her entire family.  It was why she had come here, seeking a new one.<br/><br/>As everyone finished writing their questions, she felt nerves flutter through her stomach.  She felt apprehensive about sharing so much of herself with others.  Surreptitiously, she wiped her palms on her dress, pretending to soothe nonexistent creases in the fabric.  And then, her nervousness was forgotten as Marcus began to speak.  She sat, riveted, as she listened to his responses, a small smile playing on her lips as she imagined him as a child, stealing cookies.  She carried such negative memories of her childhood with her, and he reminded her that it hadn't been all bad.  There had been good times between the discipline and oppression, she thought with the very slightest of smirks, surprising herself that she was able to find humor in her childhood, even if the humor was sarcastic.  Maybe it meant that she was healing.<br/><br/>She had, of course, seen the way he looked at Nicci when he spoke about her.  Mila realized that it wasn't just Bo, or just Vince or Marcus.  All three of the men were clearly smitten by the incredibly beautiful woman.  Well, she could understand it, certainly.  Even she felt herself drawn to Nicci, so how could she fault the men for feeling that same pull?  There was something about her that made people want to be with her.  Mila's brow furrowed as she wondered if that was something she could learn, but then she smiled a little wider;  how fanciful to think she could learn to be a magnet.  She glanced at Mari, wondering if the other woman had picked up on the mens' reactions to Nicci, and how she felt about it.  But then she decided that it was unlikely that anything ever flustered the dynamic Hispanic woman.  She exuded self-confidence that Mila couldn't even hope to emulate.<br/><br/>What surprised Mila the most about her own reaction was that even though she knew that Nicci and Marisol were better women than she was, more desirable and dynamic, she felt no negative feelings towards them.  Already, her heart had opened to them, and she felt a bond had formed.  She didn't know yet if it was one-sided, or if they felt it too, but she was<em>comfortable</em>with the two other women.  She had a feeling that they would all accept one another, and that the relationship between the three of them would be much easier than their relationships with the men or the bond between the men.<br/><br/>Next, Bo answered the questions.  As he spoke of hunting with his father, she was reminded of her father's hunting trips with her brothers.  It had been a rite of passage of sorts for the males in the Rosen family, and she and her mother had always spent hours packing the boys' belongings and food for the trip.  One year, she had insisted that she be taken along, and instead of taking a belt to her for her insolence, her father had smirked, indulging the whimsy of his only daughter.  She'd been thrilled to have gotten to go along, until he'd put the firearm in her hand made her shoot in the direction of the deer.  Her eyes had been wide with horror, and Mila had never asked to go along again.  She'd been twelve.<br/><br/>She listened to Bo as intently as she had Marcus.  Bo was an enigma to her, and she bit her bottom lip as she thought back to the scene at the table.  She wished more than anything that she hadn't reacted the way she did when she'd felt like he had censured her.  She should have excused herself from the table, and instead, her reaction had managed to ruin their first meal together.  She wondered if maybe he didn't like her because of what had happened between them.  The thought saddened her; she wanted his approval.  She wasn't sure why, but she found that it was important to her.  Maybe it was because he was very much like the men she grew up around, and reminded her of home more than anyone else here.<br/><br/>After Bo had finished, Mila sat back to listen to Nicci.  Her childhood had not been easy, that much was clear from her answers to everything from her childhood heroes to her fears.  Mila realized then that she'd had it pretty easy compared to the other woman.  Although they hadn't had a lot of extras, they did have both parents, and her father had made enough money to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.  As Nicci spoke freely about her sexual experiences, Mila wondered what it would be like to be so uninhibited.  She was very much the opposite, herself.  Another thing to admire about the lovely Nicci, she thought wryly.  Definitely, the men would never adore her the way they already adored the other woman, but she was okay with that, she realized.  If this was going to work, they just had to love her, too.  Not love her as much, necessarily.<br/><br/>Mari spoke next, and Mila turned so that she faced the woman to her left just a bit.  Her eyes widened when Mari took her hand, holding it as she spoke words that brought tears to her eyes.  Did Mari really feel those things about her?  After only knowing her for a few hours?  She didn't see how it was possible, but she was grateful to the other woman, and hoped that the gratitude in her eyes was evident.  For several minutes, Mari held Mila's hand, and Mila clung on as if it were a lifeline.  And then, the gorgeous latina pulled away, causing a rush of panic to course through her.  Had she done something wrong?  She shook her head imperceptibly, again chiding herself for her insecurity.  If Mari hadn't wanted to hold her hand, she wouldn't have grabbed it in the first place, would she?<br/><br/>Mila let herself relax, leaning back to listen to Vince's answers next.  Except he didn't respond, instead passing the figurative gauntlet to her.  Her eyes widened, and she looked past Mari at him, a panicked look on her face.  Somehow, she'd become so wrapped up in listening to everyone else talk about themselves that she had forgotten that she'd be taking a turn too.  Her instinct was to excuse herself, maybe by feigning illness, and flee to the safety of her room.  But she stayed; fair was fair, and everyone else had shared of themselves so freely.  She owed the others the same of herself.  So she smiled at Vince, her cracking voice rendering her attempt at outward calmness futile.  "So, I guess it's my turn next, huh?"