4. Bambola (Doll)

Full picture album.

Let Not Thy Left Hand Know

The episode opens to Triela dragging Henrietta along an arcade at the SWA, the latter showing great reluctance.  Triela stops in some exasperation:

Triela: "You wanna ask him, don't you?"
Henrietta: "Yeah... But..."
Triela: "Come!" (Kindly... but forceful)

And with this, Triela grabs Henrietta's arm and continues to pull her.  Henrietta didn't request this help, but it is here anyway.


As the two wait for Jose in the parking lot, Henrietta glances repeatedly at Triela, who continues to offer her support from the shadows.  It is adorably comical, but also surprising how flustered she is to merely talk with Jose.  An impression that was given hints previously is solidifying. 



Henrietta tries to grab one more look of encouragement from Triela when her target appears, interrupting the vacillation.  As Jose is about to get into his car she steals up on him, timidly calling his name.  The briefest glimpse of dismayed surprise shows itself before being covered by a pleasant, but tired, expression.  Henrietta does not seem to notice the transition.

Jose: "What is it Henrietta?"
Henrietta: "Um....Um..."
Jose: "Tell me."
Henrietta: "Christmas is coming up soon..."
Jose: "Yeah."
Henrietta: "So, um..." (Eyes down, rubbing her hands timorously)
Jose: "Would a drive be all right?" 
(Henrietta's face lifts into joy)
Henrietta: "Just being with me is enough..."
Jose: "Go back to your room." (Exhausted)

Jose was ambushed.  With the day over, he assumed his duty was done for now; to see her again is exhausting, and it takes him a moment to regain composure.  He did not wish to resume his self-inflicted penance.  As soon as he is able to assess her intent he finishes the conversation swiftly, even as Henrietta makes it amply clear that merely being in his presence causes her happiness.


During this exchange Triela is watching unseen from the archway.  She is not standing casually, but with her hand pressed against the wall, leaning forward in anticipation.  As soon as Henrietta is able to squeak out her comment on Christmas, Triela knows all is well and her expression creases into a nearly imperceptible smile.  She is invested in Henrietta's success.


With the conversation over the two say goodnight.  Henrietta begins to trot away, but cannot help herself and turns to give one last, timid sign.  Her hand is held close, as though afraid it might be rejected.  Seeing him wearily reciprocate with a weak wave she is excited anew and runs from the parking lot.  Triela, who just a moment ago could be observed waiting, has disappeared from her post.


Jose quickly gets in his car and drives away, his face as he does so evidencing unhappy introversion and bitter self-anger.  Too busy thinking about how Henrietta represents his past and present failures, he could not appreciate her earnest affection in the moment.  With the sole goal of extricating himself, he used his understanding of her to get rid of her so that he might flee.


Back in the hallway, Henrietta holds her hand over her heart, completely out of breath despite having hardly run.  It is no longer uncertain.  Henrietta doesn't just love Jose; she is in love with Jose, and completely besotted at that.  Small smiles, tired waves, simple gifts; every kind thing he does kindles her infatuation.  In return, she serves him with love-struck abandon.


As Henrietta recovers from her encounter, Triela lounges against the wall just around the corner, a confident expression on her face.  She takes in Henrietta's exhilaration fondly, until her junior finally regains breath and excitedly reports success:

Henrietta: "He said he would be with me for Christmas!"
(Triela places her arms akimbo similar to before, but her stance is softened)
Triela: "See?  He was thinking about it as well." 
Henrietta: "Yeah, you were right!  Thanks!"

In response to this last statement Triela breaks into a genuine smile, her delight shining through the attempt to appear stern.  This was never about being right.  Triela cares for Henrietta, more than she shows.  She knew how much this would mean to Henrietta's romantic quest and went out of her way to help without being asked.  Over the objections, even, of her little ward's faintheartedness.


Yet Triela hides this concern, acting out of the sight of the world and even her own beneficiary.  She retreats from the archway so that she is not seen, feigns nonchalance in the hall so that Henrietta may have trusting confidence, and pretends ignorance of the outcome so that this little girl may have the joy of sharing "her" success.  All of this unknown to the other child.  There is more to big sister than reflexive kindness.



Troubled Siblings

The next day Triela chases a man through a parking lot.  He attempts to engage her, only to be soundly beaten in seconds.  Holding him disabled, she glares at the target with intense suspicion as Hilshire approaches:

"Jacomotti, right?  Relax.  I just want to ask about your organization."

However, the man is not so keen on cooperating and reaches for a gun under his coat.  Already prepared, Triela senses this and, without orders, fires a non-lethal shot through his shoulder, causing the gun to skitter away across the lot.  She continues to scowl at Jacomotti afterward, keeping her gun trained in cool anger should he threaten Hilshire again.  Even with her rebellions, Triela too has a fierce emotional attachment to her trainer.


Hilshire runs over and places his hand on Jacomotti's back in concern.  Unaware of the threat, he is disturbed by the seemingly-unnecessary pain Triela has just caused.  Her independence is reminiscent of the shooting range from last episode where she fired without authorization.  Here now, with a man groaning on the ground, he cannot overlook her impertinence:

Hilshire: "Triela!  I just wanted him to talk!"
Triela: "I determined that you were in danger." (Not completely calm)
Hilshire: "You didn't have to use force!  Listen, no shooting without my permission!"
(Hilshire turns back to the wounded Jacomotti as though the matter were resolved.  Triela's lips tighten at hearing this)
Triela: "Then... why don't you increase my level of conditioning?"

Throughout the conversation Triela has been controlled, if snappish.  But here she crosses a line.  Something in the way Hilshire criticized her actions and invoked his authority incensed her.  As she begins to speak only her mouth is visible, the words quiet, as though she cannot believe she is uttering them.  But the view rapidly moves to encompass her eyes as the sentence gains momentum, fully aware of its import.  She does not yell, but her stony stare and rising tone speak to her state.


The effect on Hilshire is immediate.  He glares at her in disbelieving anger before jumping to his feet, prepared to strike her across the face.  Triela's barb was accurate.  This position is held for a long moment, during which she meets his stare unflinchingly.  A bird flies from a tree, interrupting the silence and calling his bluff; the rage drains and he lowers his hand with a sigh.


However, something is amiss, as Tristezza plays in the background.  She defied him and "won," yet is no happier; this isn't what Triela wanted.  Turning away, Hilshire tiredly orders Jacomotti to be placed in the car.  She assents quietly, almost sadly, and walks to pick up the groaning form.  Her venom is already gone.  Glancing over his shoulder he observes her with an expression of pained frustration while she is not looking.  He is sincerely bothered by her words.  Neither wanted this.


This is a complex exchange, and offers several perplexing questions to be resolved.  Both of them seem to be reasonable people.  Triela has exhibited maturity and kindness on several occasions, which makes her failure here all the more surprising.  Less has been seen of Hilshire, but he didn't appreciate wanton harm nor did he strike her, despite the provocation; he is not a brutal or reckless man.  So what is it that festers between them?  What is it each of them wants?



Jose vs Hilshire

Back at the SWA, Hilshire discusses the situation with Jose:

Jose: "She's right, you know."
Hilshire: "I refuse to give her excessive conditioning."

This is the first of several scenes in the series where Jose is contrasted with another handler.  Having already established his personality, and the problems he faces, he serves as a useful reference to interpreting the other men.  Jean has already been seen to be his uncaring opposite, but the others are less radically different.


Here, Hilshire echos Jose's dislike of the conditioning, or rather its side effects.  He is, in principle, against the idea and wants to minimize the harm to Triela; hiding behind the business-like attitude is genuine concern for his girl.  This is why Triela's comment hurt so much: it was a strike at his very fondness for her, and an implicit repudiation of his consideration.  That Triela was so on target demonstrates her awareness of this implication, making her response particularly spiteful.

Jose: "If you won't increase her conditioning, then it's your responsibility to train her right.  Though I'm no one to talk."
(Hilshire gives Jose a hard stare before looking forward)
Jose: "Seems we both got stuck with a job we're not good at."

Jose's words ramble past the topic, before catching himself part way through his hypocritical pontification about Hilshire's duty.  It is his guilty conscience inserting itself where it does not belong, expressing what he knows he himself should do.  Hilshire can only stare at Jose, wondering what this little tangent is about.  Jose tries to bring it back cordially by equivocating the two of them, avoiding the faux pas of unidirectional criticism, but this is also misguided.  Hilshire and Triela are certainly not underperforming.  It is Jose who wants to project his plight.  Hilshire simply ignores the comment:

Hilshire: "What should I do to get along with Triela?"
Jose: "A serious German like you can't help overdoing things.  She's a smart girl, so she's sensitive to when a man has ulterior motives."

Hilshire's question indicates the main difference between he and Jose.  Jose is able to read Henrietta easily; his ward's complete lack of guile causes her to broadcast her feelings openly to anybody who is attuned to them.  He knows what he should do, but struggles to do it.  Hilshire is simply confused; he has no idea what's wrong with Triela or why she is lashing out at him.  It is a unique problem at the Social Welfare Agency: his partner is a sassy teenager.


Jose's response requires clarification, as it does not survive translation well.  It is a warning to Hilshire: "You are too straightforward and earnest, and a savvy female like her will see through a male's attempt at being subtle."  In other words, the harder you try the worst it's going to be, because she'll run circles around you if you think you can trick her with insincerity.



Her Problems

In Triela's room, Henrietta is enthusiastically listing off the bears on the shelf, named for the dwarfs of Snow White.  Triela mostly ignores her, staring desultorily forward.  Although despite her mood she continues to indulge Henrietta.

Henrietta: "You almost have all seven!  The last one is Doc, right?"
Triela: "Oh, yeah..." (Absentmindedly)
Henrietta: "I wish I had some too."
(Triela closes her eyes in irritation)
Triela: "Ask your nice 'brother.'  It's almost Christmas.  He'd buy them all for you." (Tiredly)

It is the longing again; she doesn't speak harshly despite her jealousy, but it is still there, like on the roof last episode.  This is Triela's sore spot, the one thing that reliably causes her to act less than her best.  For it to come out against Henrietta, whom she dotes on, shows how tender it is.  Yet it should be noted that Triela still helped Henrietta ask Jose, and took genuine enjoyment from the result.  Luckily, Triela's reaction goes unnoticed:

Henrietta: "No, just having him with me is enough." (Dreamily holding "Happy")
(Suddenly coming to from her reverie she snaps to look at Triela, as if having a surprising thought)  
Henrietta: "Do Hilshire's presents not make you happy?"
(Triela looks away peevishly)
Triela: "He doesn't care what I like; he always gets me the same thing.  Maybe he thinks giving me presents makes him my guardian.  Doesn't he have anything else to do?" 

As she says this last line she dejectedly pokes the nose of the bear in front of her as though it were Hilshire himself; it is "Bashful," the one awkward at displaying feelings.  But the irritation has already drained and by the last sentence and her expression is one of pained sadness.  Hilshire has been trying to do the exact thing Jose warned about, play a role with proper protocol, and she's seeing right through it.


In the first few episodes, Triela suggested a theory to Henrietta: that she acted the way she did in order to make Jose proud.  Perhaps this is better applied to how Triela understands herself.  At the shooting range she bucked Hilshire's instruction to better demonstrate her capacity, and with Jacomotti continued to act independently, but with proficiency.  When he came down on her, criticizing rather than praising, her reaction was swift and vicious.  Triela is good at what she does, and she acts like he refuses to see it.


Yet if pride were all, she should be more angry and less despondent.  True, she wants to prove herself to Hilshire, but why?  It isn't her capacity he is failing to appreciate; indeed, he backed off when he saw that he would only interfere with her training.  Proficiency is a stand-in for a critical element he is not seeing.  It isn't anger that drives her; something is missing and it hurts.


Henrietta stares concerned but uncomprehending at this roil of emotions flowing through Triela; her ardor for Jose is too straightforward to understand the complicated feelings her big sister has for Hilshire.  After a pause she comments that Triela doesn't look well.  Triela's head collapses dramatically to the table in response:

Triela: "I've been having my period since yesterday.  It's totally irregular.  My stomach hurts..."
(Henrietta stands up and moves over to offer comfort)
Henrietta: "And we can't take over-the-counter medicine..." (Sympathetically)
Triela: "Now that I've told you, it's starting to hurt worse.  But this is what it feels like to be alive, so I'll endure it." (Wincing in acute pain)

This is the introduction of a parallel that will span the rest of the episode.  Since yesterday something has flared up in Triela that is painful and quite personal, yet cannot be seen externally.  It is a link between her physical and mental wellbeing.  Such a problem cannot be fixed with a simple remedy, and so must be endured.  Yet even in the recognition of her suffering she finds value; she may hurt, but she must be alive to hurt, and so tries to accept it too.

Henrietta: "That's the spirit.  They took out my uterus, so I wish I could trade places with you."
(The camera shifts to outside the room, no longer pointed at Triela)
Triela: "Oh, that's right.  I'm sorry."  (The pain in her voice lessens)

Another indication of Triela's character.  The more she focuses on her own problem the more excruciating it becomes; even with Henrietta's comfort it only intensifies.  But when she is made aware of Henrietta's reality, that the opportunity to fully experience womanhood is forever denied the girl who is in love, her focus is drawn outside herself and the pain subsides.  Her comfort is found in sympathy with others.


They are interrupted by Rico entering the room with a bloody face, informing Triela calmly that Hilshire wants her.  Henrietta rushes to clean Rico, asking what happened:

"Jean scolded me, that's all."

She says this with a smile, trying to treat harm to herself as unimportant; to emphasize, she doesn't pause in relaying Hilshire's orders as Henrietta dabs her face.  But she can't help but wince at how much even that gentle touch hurts, betraying how wounded she is.  It is terrible; this place is not right.



Solitude

Watching Henrietta help Rico, the last scene merges smoothly into the next as Triela wonders morosely:

Henrietta is Jose's sister, Rico is Jean's tool, which makes me...?
(Pause, the scene transitions to the Section One office)
What does he want me to be?  It'd be much more comfortable if the conditioning decided everything for me.

Triela faces a quandary deeper than the other girls: she must ask whether she is happy with her relationship with Hilshire.  Denied the comforts of automatic submission, of having herself be defined by another, she must endure the dissatisfaction that arises.  Her jab ultimately cut both ways.  Burdened by self-awareness, watching everybody around her... the other girls, the people in the office... they all seem so blissfully certain.  Surrounded, she is alone.


Heightening her isolation, two of the office workers begin to idly chatter, belying the tension between the departments with their derisive comments:

Man #1: "Check it out.  I thought I was at Section Two instead of Section One because of the princess at the entrance."
Man #2: "She's waiting for her prince."

At first their talk is with each other, but as the view shifts it becomes apparent that they speak right at her, as though she cannot understand them.  She is not a human, just Hilshire's accessory to be mocked and dismissed.  Knowing her struggles this is particularly thoughtless, although her downward gaze indicates she probably isn't listening.  She's used to it.


Hilshire emerges from a nearby room and with a nearly imperceptible nod indicates that they are leaving; whatever their problems, when it comes to business they are in-tune.

Out in the colonnade Hilshire explains they are headed to the airport, and will be going to Naples.  Triela is flushed, her eyes closed in pain; she is still suffering from her period, but takes a deep breath, utters a terse "Understood", and braces herself to go.  After a few seconds she realizes Hilshire has stopped and her eyes snap open.


This moment is emblematic of their relationship.  He could tell from her strained reply that she was not well but was trying to cover it up.  This man is not imperceptive or uncaring.  His expression is of open concern, but he cannot understand.  In this case Triela's womanhood is particularly inscrutable to him, with this lack of comprehension extending to her psychological state by analogy.

Triela: "Is there something?" 

Her eyes narrow and soften as she speaks, aware of his earnest expression and latent pause.  He is so close to saying something and she wants to hear it.  But he cannot bring himself to speak.  Bashful.

Hilshire: "No."



Still Not It

The two travel to Naples.  On the plane Triela continues to be distant, with Hilshire glancing at her but then looking away in concern.

Arriving, they search for Mario Bossi, an ex-mafia acquaintance of Hilshire's who is now being hunted by his own organization.  Their job is to find him first.  Hilshire asks questions of the citizens while she watches the surroundings distrustfully, guarding him always from harm.


The search grows long, and even after resorting to staking out known haunts, the two still have not found Mario.  But Hilshire is optimistic, as they are old associates and he is quite familiar with Mario's habits:

Hilshire: "With any luck, we'll be back in time for Christmas."
Triela: "Such wishful thinking usually doesn't come true."
(Pause)
Hilshire: "Triela, is something the matter?"

Triela's response is unusual and Hilshire can tell.  She isn't normally this dour, but after many hours of traipsing around the city, unwell in both body and mind, her usual equanimity is being eroded.  This isn't her best self.  Hearing his question, Triela looks up and gives an involuntary, "Eh?"  It is hopeful, surprised; yes, something is the matter and she wants him to notice it for himself.  But then he blunders:

Hilshire: "You've seemed a little pale since yesterday."
(Hilshire attempts to feel her forehead, but Triela stops him)
Triela: "It's nothing."
Hilshire: "I see..." (Pained)

Unlike Jose, Hilshire genuinely mistakes the source of his cyborg's problem as physical.  He reaches for her instinctively, showing the concern she must surely desire, yet she denies him.  It isn't what's wrong, and she brushes him off with an expression of pained disappointment, hurt to repel him, yet unwilling to accept this off-target attempt.


This weighs on her, far more than the cramps, but she can't explain either issue to him.  Just as he cannot empathize with the source of her physical pain due to being male, he can't pierce her emotional disquietude due to who he is to her.  Triela throws his own refusal to talk back at him and the impasse remains unresolved, even as her eyes question what she has just said, averted from his sincere worry.



Heel, Girl

True to Hilshire's prediction, the duo successfully intercept Mario when he tries to use a known hideout.  Triela once again demonstrates her proficiency with how rapidly she disables him.

So captured, they take Mario to a nearby restaurant where he explains that he will not leave until he accomplishes his goal, looking distrustfully around at the other patrons.  Hilshire flatly denies his wish.  In irritation he asks why he is handcuffed to this girl and is informed she is a cyborg.

"Ah, so she's one of them..."

Mario looks at her with a bit of disgust.  Throughout the exchange both ignore Triela, as though she cannot speak for herself, or even understand; she is an inhuman curiosity again.  This time her thoughts are not conveyed, but the unhappy mask is not a barrier to understanding her turmoil as she tries to figure out what "one of them" entails.  What does she mean to Hilshire?


The scene jumps suddenly to the bathrooms, where still being handcuffed to Mario, Triela must accompany him inside as his watchdog:

Triela: "Why... why do I have to go in too?!"
Hilshire: "I'll guard the entrance so no one will come in." (Oblivious)

This is utterly humiliating for Triela.  Her fervent objection is completely that of an embarrassed adolescent girl.  She is well aware of her sex, and Hilshire's assurance completely misses the point.  Handing Hilshire her shotgun case she shoots him a look that says all too clearly, "I can't believe you're making me do this."  Not helping the situation, Mario chimes in:

Mario: "Unless you want me to piss my pants here."

With this, Triela's head turns sharply to look at him, her reaction a ruffled, "...are you going to treat me like this too?"  He keeps a neutral face, acting as though he had no idea his remark was inappropriate.  She is beset on all sides.  As they both walk in, she turns one last time to flash Hilshire a venomous look with a barely audible humph.  Not taking the hint:

Hilshire: "Don't let your guard down."

Humor at Triela's predicament aside, Hilshire clearly fails to appreciate that he's causing her any discomfort due to her womanhood.  He isn't trying to be unkind, but he doesn't view her as a girl at all.  She's closer to a valued dog in a K9 unit; a proficient asset, one he is both proud and fond of, but which will never be anything more.  She is what she does for him.  It is a galling answer to her question.



Run, Mario, Run

In the bathroom Mario is whistling in his stall.  Like his quip, he's doing this on purpose, and Triela's patience is wearing thin:

Triela: "Hurry it up." (Staring pointedly away)
Mario: "Everyone at the agency is so impatient."
(Triela's curiosity is piqued, her eyes turning toward the stall)
Triela: "Did you learn about the agency from Hilshire?"
Mario: "I suppose."
Triela: "He doesn't seem like the type to have friends in the mafia."
Mario: "A long time ago, a rookie Europol investigator caught a mafia boss in Amsterdam."
Triela: "Europol?" (Her whole head now turns with interest)

Mario continues on, ignoring her question.  He worked for a mafia in Amsterdam that had turned to trafficking children as an alternative income when Hilshire caught him.  Mario was already considering leaving, and Hilshire let him go in exchange for information; however, this choice cost Hilshire his career.  Such is how a lawful man ended up in a clandestine organization; it was the only place that would take him anymore.


Triela's reactions to the conversation betray several facts.  Her curiosity indicates that she has hasn't heard any of this; Hilshire never told her about his past.  Her surprise at the revelation he worked for Europol is particularly telling: she didn't suspect Hilshire had a respectable law-enforcement background, and hence potentially good motives.  She wasn't really thinking of him as another person either.


As Mario confesses his involvement in human trafficking Triela's face remains studiously blank before turning to look forward with a thoughtful stare:

Triela: "You two corresponded even after he joined?"
Mario: "For a short while.  It was a give-and-take thing."
Triela: "Did he tell you anything about me before I came?"
Mario: "No.  (Pause)  Do you get along with Hilshire?"
(Triela petulantly turns her head and closes her eyes)
Triela: "Just because we're siblings doesn't mean we're close."

So Mario knows nothing about Triela's past when he told that story.  Before the topic can linger, he goes after a weak point.  He saw what happened in the hall and how she reacted; they aren't on the best of terms and he knows it.  Her compensatory rejection of Hilshire is familiar now: she is saying the opposite of what she wants, and it is becoming clearer what is missing.


Throughout the conversation Mario has kept her focused on what he is saying, leading her on with his story and poking at tender issues.  In a final distracting move, Mario flushes the toilet to cover his escape.  Triela is put out anew by this reminder, sighing while holding her forehead in discomfort; she is late to notice the worrisome sounds coming from the stall.  She turns and knocks.


With no response, her eyes narrow with suspicion and she barges in; even if she is embarrassed, her professionalism still prevails.  Seeing Mario jumping over the divider she attempts to pursue, only to wrenchingly discover the handcuffs now encircle a bar, slamming her painfully to the ground.  She stands up to see him leaping from the open window.

"Damn it!"

Triela is the only girl to swear in the entire series.  Henrietta would be anxious she failed Jose, Rico would do her job out of want and necessity, but Triela is mad; she has pride in her capability and Mario's deft manipulation is infuriating.  Knowing he got the better of her, she wrenches the bar from the stall in anger and tears after him, again without Hilshire's authorization.



The Princess Saves Mario

Out on the streets, Triela continues her pursuit intently, but Mario is able to elude her.  He hasn't stayed alive through luck.  However, he does have the decency to apologize quietly as she runs past his hiding spot; he can see how earnest she is, but there are more important things.


Unfortunately, in his haste to evade Triela he runs straight into the mafioso who have been searching for him.  He is caught completely off guard and has no opportunity to escape.  Quickly handcuffed and led toward the car, Mario slyly mutters, "See Naples and die," to stall for time.  It catches the head thug's interest, and buys Mario precious seconds as he explains.

Thug: "In that case, you can die in peace." (Crudely chuckling)
Mario: "If you're gonna take me away, you best hurry.  A really dangerous person is about to show up." (Leering)

True to his word, Triela appears and commences her assault.  Charging forward she holds up her arm to guard her eyes, blocking incoming shots.  As will come to light later, the eyes are one of the vulnerable points on the girls and this is a strategy for safeguarding that weakness.


Even with Triela taking a few hits, the fight is over in seconds, the last member dispatched with a kick that she holds theatrically as he slides to the ground; a bit of adolescent flair that says, "I am so good."  Mario is left stunned looking at the bodies.  He had no idea she was this dangerous; maybe teasing her wasn't such a good plan.

Triela: "Are you hit?"
Mario: "Huh?  No..." (Still dazed at the scene)
(Triela is breathing hard; she looks wretched)
Triela: "You really like handcuffs, don't you?"
(Triela tears the restraints from his wrists)  
Triela: "Next time, I won't hesitate to shoot." (Eyes closed in frustration)
Mario: "You're looking mighty pale."
(Triela looks over her shoulder sharply with a long-suffering expression)
Triela: "Period cramps.  Someone had me run all over the place."
(Mario doesn't know what to say for a moment)
Mario: "You alright?" (Sheepish)
Triela: "No, it's actually pretty bad..."

Irritated and exhausted, the sharp tongue that Triela has kept in check comes out.  With a sarcastic verbal slap on the wrist, she lets him know that she doesn't think much of his repeated escape attempts.  Her subsequent "threat" to shoot is not a real warning; just an exaggerating teenager letting an obnoxious man knows how exasperated she is with these antics.


But when Mario finally notices her pallor, she's had it.  He has intentionally inconvenienced her this whole time.  Now remarking on how she seems out of sorts, like it isn't his fault, is the last straw.  She lets him know full well how much this hurt, embarrassing him in the process; what's a grown man to respond to an adolescent girl telling him about her period?  It robs him of any decent rejoinder.


Even being fed up, there is subtle means to her frustration.  If Triela had upbraided Mario directly he might have had recourse to defend himself.  But by stating the indisputable, that she is in pain and it was made worse by the events of the day, it puts the onus on him to take responsibility as that "someone."  To deny the obvious, that it is his fault, would make him look dense or brutish, and so his only recourse is apologetic sympathy.  Triela has gotten Mario to scold himself.


Yet she did not fully control herself, and in this chastising has divulged the secret she has been keeping from Hilshire, admitting that she is truly in pain.  This opens the gates for the next scene, for this loosening applies to her emotions as well.  She can now talk to this man who has just realized that maybe Triela is just like any other young woman.

As the scene ends it zooms out to reveal the bodies of the mafia members, a strange mixture of horrific unnaturalness during Mario's comedic apology.



Loss and Compassion

At dusk in another location, Triela is talking to Mario.  Tristezza once again plays in the background; it is a return to the beginning, to what is causing her ache.

Triela: "Tell me... What did you come all the way to Naples for?"
(Mario stares seriously for a moment)
Mario: "To see my daughter."
Triela: "Your daughter?" (Surprised)
Mario: "I decided to leave the mafia when she was born.  I suddenly despised everything I had done.  I've sent her a Christmas present every year, but I've never seen her since I changed my ways."
(Up to this point Mario has been regretful, but here he breaks into a smile)
Mario: "But I promised to deliver her present in person this year."
(A long thoughtful pause, after which Triela narrows her eyes in realization)
Triela: "A kid needs a father, I guess..." (Trailing off)

Throughout Triela watches him intently.  This is it; this is what she wants.  A person who will care about her for just existing, who will risk and struggle to be with her, who will change to be better for her sake.  Seeing him smile at the thought of his daughter, despite everything he has endured, she realizes what is missing: what she wants is... a father.


This is a poignant, painful moment for her.  Triela is an adolescent.  She is strong, competent, intelligent, proud... and she still needs to be loved.  But what is Hilshire?  He is a kindly man who works hard and treats her well.  He has his morals and despite his occupation tries to do what is best when it comes to his attention.  But he is not her father.  He does not love her.


After a long silence, Triela tells Mario that she'll inform Hilshire that he got away.  Realizing his story resonated, yet knowing her situation, he asks after an uncertain pause if she knows where her own parents are.  Triela stares solemnly at him, debating if she should speak, before putting her hands on her hips and lowering her eyes with a smile and a shake of the head:

Triela: "Nope.  All I know is that they found me in Amsterdam."
(Mario's eyes widen in horrified shock)
Triela: "Listening to your story, I guess I might've been one of those children myself."
(Mario averts his gaze in shame)
Mario: "I can't possibly ask for your forgiveness..."
Triela: "Who's to say it was your fault?"

Mario: "I'm sorry..." 
(Triela is smiling at him with no hatred)
Triela: "Just treat your daughter nicely."

If Mario had merely frustrated her, mocked her, forced her to run around the city while hurting, her lenience would be admirable and high-minded.  This is more.  She knew what this man had done; she heard his story and understood its implications.  But she kept silent, saving him, treating him with concern, and is now letting him go.  Even as he apologizes she tries to console him for his sins.


Yet this does not even reach it.  This man is the reason she doesn't have a father to love her.  His actions have caused her deepest suffering.  All the pain and confusion and loneliness... it is him.  Just now, having realized it, she knows well what she has lost.  And in this moment, faced with the full awareness of what his evil has cost her... she forgives him.  He knew not what he was doing.  She only bids him to give to his daughter what she cannot have for herself.  Words are... insufficient.


The moment ends and Mario admonishes her to get along with Hilshire as well.  She is taken aback and then expresses what has been bothering her all episode:

"I don't despise him specifically, you know.  What I do dislike is all you selfish adults!"  

The accusation is softened by her impish grin, but the frustration is still there.  It is a challenge: What's wrong with all of you?  Can't you see the suffering you're causing?  Am I the only one who can be bothered to care?  And, in that small corner, What about me?  She is saddened by them, disappointed in them.  In Hilshire.  This is the final piece to understanding her provocation at the beginning: she can see he cares, so why isn't he better?


The scene closes with Hilshire, who was listening around the corner.  Having heard it all he realizes he does not, and cannot, measure up to her.  Why didn't he realize what Mario would mean to her?  Would he have forgiven Mario?  How did he fail to appreciate Triela this badly?  Why isn't he better?  A ragged inhalation, a barely-suppressed sob, tears from him, and he closes his eyes in shame and reflection.



Presents vs. Gifts

Hilshire and Triela walk along a Christmas market decorated for the holiday, Triela making good on her promise to lie about Mario escaping.  Hilshire brushes it off as a display of the Nativity is shown in a storefront; he knows her choice was the one that should be made.

Hilshire: "Triela...."  
(Her name hangs for a moment.  She stops and looks at him, her breath coming up short at the unguarded expression on his face)
Triela: "Yes?" (Stammering)
Hilshire: "There's still time until our flight.  Let's do some shopping first."
Triela: "Huh!?" (Completely floored)
Hilshire: "When I think about it, I've only ever given you boring clothes.  Perhaps a cute dress or shoes..." (He begins to stumble uncertainly at the end of this last sentence)

As Hilshire speaks the camera pans over Triela.  She is dumbfounded, overwhelmed by the emotion his statement has brought her.  It is an acknowledgement of her femininity that he so consistently failed to understand.  But it is so much more, it is what she had hoped he would notice.

Triela herself.

He is genuinely caring for her, expressing an appreciation of her possible desires and needs with no ulterior motive.  He is recognizing her for who she is.  To hear this smallest sign of personal affection... she's wanted it so much.  She stands there, flushed, soaking in this marvelous gift.


Hilshire's stammering, unnatural delivery is as stilted as Jose warned it would be.  But Triela, seeing through it, can also appreciate it for what it is; her maturity is no longer a barrier but an aid to understanding.  Maybe he isn't her father, maybe he doesn't love her, but he's trying in his own awkward way.  After looking down for a moment, she returns her gaze to him and apologizes:

"I like the way it feels when I tighten my tie.  And I like the sound of my leather boots clicking on the streets."

She doesn't hate him for how he's treated her, and in fact takes some pride in who she is because of him.  Even if his suggestion shows he's still not quite grasping her character, she is forced to avert her eyes in regret, knowing her spiteful rejection of his well-intentioned acts was unkind.  He reciprocates with his own admission:

"I see.  I never know what kind of present to get you... I just figured that all kids like teddy bears..."

As he says this they notice a happy child receiving a package from his caring mother.  Both of them stare silently at the scene; this will never be their fate.  Hilshire is career enforcement, Triela his cybernetically-augmented partner, and even as he realizes he had been thoughtless, throwing her bones because that's what all dogs like, it will not change this fact.  But this shared realization is also a connection: maybe what they do have can be made good as well.


Snapping out of the reverie, Hilshire turns to her:

Hilshire: "But if you'd like something else, just name it."
Triela: "No, just get me a teddy bear for Christmas like always.  Actually, I'm naming them after the Seven Dwarfs..."
Hilshire: "I see..." (Smiling with relief)

Triela is still completely flustered; she doesn't even know what to do with all this attention, and not wanting to make him feel any worse, she affirms in a panic she still wants a bear.  Underneath her complaints, she gave the presents meaning and cherished them.  As for Hilshire, he had no idea what she did with them, but is glad to see they're cared for; maybe he wasn't entirely messing up.

He turns and continues walking.  Triela stares at his retreating back with a bit more appreciation, before he calls to her and she follows.



Christmas

Henrietta is happily trimming a Christmas tree when Triela returns to the agency.  They made it back before Christmas like Hilshire had hoped; Triela's pessimism toward Hilshire on many things was unsubstantiated.  Henrietta notices her presence:

Henrietta: "Do you feel any better?"
Triela: "No, not yet." (Happily, standing tall)

Henrietta straightens quizzically at this discrepancy.  Triela's problem was not solved, her period continues unabated, and yet she does not complain.  More deeply, life still hurts; the dull ache of never being a cherished daughter is one she must live with.  But something else has been assuaged, and resentment would only rob her of everything.  However...

Triela: "But I guess it's alright to have one day like this a year..."
Henrietta: "Huh?"
Triela: "Just talking to myself."

Perhaps it's not inappropriate to occasionally ask for what she wants, to take care of herself along with everybody else.  Selflessness consists of more than self-denial, and is not at odds with a little indulgence.

Though it wouldn't do for Henrietta to become ensnared in that distinction; as the little girl is now, it would only confuse the matter.  It is best she admire her big sister simply, the latter's quandaries out of sight.  After all, Triela is better for more than herself.


Christmas day arrives and Henrietta is taking her walk with Jose.  Her gift, and Triela's joy also, as she watches them from a window.  Continuing to treasure the view, she reflects on how she received two bears, one from Mario as well as Hilshire:

"I was supposed to have seven dwarfs, but now I have eight.  I should've asked for something else after all."

A final remark of wry resignation as she straightens and looks out over the peaceful morning with a smile.  Triela did indeed receive what she asked for, and it is appreciated, but perhaps Henrietta in her simplicity had the right idea from the very beginning.  Perhaps agreeing to go shopping, and just getting to be with Hilshire like she truly wanted, was the better choice after all.

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