The thing that always impressed me about her was how good she was about keeping a straight face, a brace front. The world could be crashing down around her ears, and she kept a sense of level-headed coolness that could almost be confused with cold-heartedness if you weren’t familiar with her under normal circumstances. Because she was anything but cold-hearted. She just knew that she had to stay level in a tragedy, or all she would be doing was making it worse, which helped no one.
Granted, following the crisis, when people were helped and things were settled down again, she would be a wreck. Not for long, but for long enough, she’d break down and cry and rail and hate and sometimes scream. She’d make sure not to be obvious, but she loses it completely.
And then she’s back again. Good as new with smiles and happy and something wonderful in her own way. But if you look close enough, if you watch for something small behind her eyes, you can see it there–the stony faced strength, just waiting for the world to fall apart again.
Because if there is one constant we both know, the world is always waiting to fall apart again.