<em>~Mila, answering the questions~</em><br/><br/>Mila looked at the others in the room, appalled that she hadn't taken the time to think out her responses to everyone's questions.  She didn't even know how she was going to answer her own, let alone the ones the others had written.  She found that she was scared that her answers would make the others reject her, and considered just saying whatever it took to keep that from happening.  But she knew that she couldn't, and wouldn't, do that.  If she was going to find family here, it would be with people who knew her and chose to love her, even with her unconventional beliefs and her faults.  She would not use subterfuge with them, even when tempted to.<br/><br/>She plucked the sheets of paper up from where Mari had deposited them, even though she knew the questions.  Taking a deep breath, she looked at Bo. "Well, my childhood hero wasn't quite as colorful as yours."  Smiling because she felt silly, she said, "In fact, I'm not so sure that she counts as a 'hero,' but I always wished I was Mrs. Claus.  All of those elves around all the time, and Santa was so nice when we went to mass on Christmas Eve.  I thought it would be pretty awesome to be married to him."<br/><br/>She picked up her coffee, taking a sip as she thought about the next question.  Time for a little introspection, she thought with an internal sigh.  "Words that describe me next... Well, 'shy' is a no-brainer, right?" she said with a little smile.  "I'm creative. I teach...<em>taught</em>art classes before I came here.  And I'm perseverant, I suppose.  It's how I ended up here."  If she hadn't been so determined, she would have given in to society and her family's expectations of her long ago.<br/><br/>She glanced down, reading quickly.  "I have not often been invited to have or share opinions with people, so I haven't much had the opportunity to lie to spare someone's feelings. But that answer is a cop out, and I know it, so I'll share something else instead. I lie to spare myself.  My instinct is to protect myself by being dishonest." She looked at the others in the room, making eye contact with each person.  It wasn't easy to admit that she had such a fault, but it was fair for them to know.  It made her feel ashamed, but she pressed on.<br/><br/>"The sinking ship question is hard for me to answer for many reasons. Such decisions aren't mine to make, but the question says I have to decide. I don't believe that I have just one soul mate, or just one best friend.  I imagine that they would be the same people." She felt like she was telling them too much, but the continued anyway, reminding herself that they deserved to know the real Mila if this was going to work. "I don't have best friends or soul mates right now, but I hope to eventually," she said, letting the implication that she hoped they would fill that emptiness in her life linger in the air.  She tilted her head, looking at the blazing fire in the fireplace, and then continued, glancing around the room, "But I suppose, to answer the question the way it was intended, I would stay on the sinking ship, and hope that my best friend and soul mate found solace and love with one another if they survived."<br/><br/>Picking up the next piece of paper, she realized her own questions were next.  Not quite ready to answer them, she glanced at the next one, laughing lightly as she read the elevator question. "What would I do that would creep people out?  I don't know that I've ever been creepy in my entire life!  I guess I would... mime."  She read the next question, and felt her cheeks warm.  Looking straight into Nicci's eyes so that she would not make eye contact with any of the men, Mila responded in a rush of embarrassed words. "I'm a tongue.  I encounter hard planes and ridges. Soft lips and nipping teeth."<br/><br/>Blushing, she stood and moved to the end of the coffee table to refill her mug.  She poured and then met eyes with Vince, quickly looking away, still bashful after her last answer. Sitting down, she picked up the next sheet. "I'll go out of order a little here.  Because there are so many different smiles, they have different colors.  A smile that is wistful might be blue, and one that is scornful may be a stormy gray.  A mercenary smile is, of course, the color of steel. But the best smiles, those shared between a mother and her child, or friends or lovers?  Those smiles are the brightest, cheeriest yellow that you could ever imagine."  She blushed then, knowing that her response was too whimsical. She didn't want the others to think her silly, but inside, she sort of was.<br/><br/>Next, Mila turned to look at Marcus. Her expression turned serious.  "I don't have to know you better to know what I would say to you, Marcus.  I would say thank you."  The others would not know, she realized, that she was expressing her gratitude for his understanding at dinner, and for his willingness to be a friend when she needed one.  She smiled at him, continuing, "My favorite childhood memory is not the same as yours. I would have gotten a beating if I ever stole cookies. Mine is fishing.  There was a creek near our house, and my brothers used to take me almost every weekend.  It was when they were best with me, protective instead of bossy."  She lost herself in the memories for a moment, a sad, wistful smile on her face.  She missed her brothers, and it hurt that they had cut her off.<br/><br/>For the rest of the questions, she didn't bother looking at the sheets of paper. She knew what they were, and procrastinating by taking her time reading them wasn't going to help her answer.  Reaching over, she impulsively held onto Mari's hand, cupping it in both of her own, smiling softly into her eyes.  She hoped the other woman would not mind that Mila drew strength from her.  This was the most introspective she had ever been, and also the most honest, and she was having a hard time with it. And the last questions were the toughest for her.<br/><br/>"I become angry at intolerance. I've had to deal with it for a long time, and it bothers me that people are close-minded.  But I don't do anything about it. I'm no fighter," she admitted derisively.  "It's in my nature to accept what is inevitable, and judgment and hate exist.  I hope to find acceptance, but I know that the possibility exists that I never will."  She knew she sounded like a cynic, but she wasn't, not really.  She just knew that there were people out there like her family.<br/><br/>"My sexual nature," she mumbled, gripping Marisol's hand a little harder.  Her stomach hurt at the thought of answering this.  It was what had made Blake reject her and had caused her to be ostracized by her family.  She didn't want to answer, but she knew she had to.  She blinked away the tears of shame that filled her eyes as she looked into the fireplace, refusing to make eye contact with anyone even as she kept her iron grip on Mari's hand.  "I've only been with one man, and he was a dominant.  I enjoy submitting.  It's arousing for me.  But I have a lot of love inside me, and I want to share it with more than one person.  I haven't had the adventures some of you have, but I'm open to trying and accepting most things.  And that leads me to my fears."  She looked at Bo as she said the words, his acceptance feeling more unattainable than anyone else's.  "I'm afraid that anyone who knows what I want from life will reject me.  I fear being alone because my values don't conform. I am scared that I'll be alone because<em>I</em>don't conform."<br/><br/>Mila looked down then, realizing how tightly she held Mari. Quickly, she let go, pulling her hands into her own lap and looking apologetically at the other woman. She was afraid to make eye contact with anyone else, not wanting to see censure or rejection in their expressions.  Taking a deep breath, she put a small smile on her face and picked up her coffee again, saying, "You're up, Vince."  And then she sipped her coffee so she wouldn't have to look at anyone.