IC contact for lastvoyages

[cactusy]

[If I don't have an active post up, feel free to use this post to have your character call, videochat, text, or knock on Shaw's door.]

Comments

[handleyourshit]

I am.

I'm a big girl, I can handle my own messes.

[cactusy]

Is this seriously all still about me asking him how you were doing?

[handleyourshit]

If it's really that difficult to understand, just take some comfort knowing you don't have to.

Just know that it's fucking important to me, and go from there, whether you're trying to continue to piss me off or not.

[cactusy]

[uuuuuuuuuugh]

Well, when you put it that way.

[Fine.]

For what it's worth, I do know what it's like to feel deficient, or like a burden. The part I can't wrap my head around is how it applies here, but-- sure, whatever, okay.

[handleyourshit]

I don't feel deficient, or like a burden.

[She does but like hell is she going to admit it to some rando lecturing her already and besides, it's every bit as much this:]

I pull my own weight, I solve my own problems, I learn from my own mistakes. I survive. And because I do all of this, people I care about survive. Again: you don't have to understand it, I'm not going to fucking argue it with you.

You just have to choose whether or not you're going to respect it, cabrona.

[cactusy]

Entiendo tu español, bruja.

I said fine.

[handleyourshit]

Bruja?

[It startles a laugh out of her, short and sharp but genuine. She shakes her head.]

Guess we'll see.

[boltactions]

[ Tim doesn't really know what Shaw should be doing now, either. He doesn't really know what he should be doing. He presses his lips together for a moment. ]

Yeah. That seems about the least we can do.

[ And, really, it's their job to do that. ]

I'm just gonna step away for a moment, is that all right?

[cactusy]

Yeah, sure. Go ahead.

[It looks like it takes actual physical effort to tear her gaze away from Root's body, but she does for a half-second, glancing back at Tim and giving him a nod.]

I already have my gun on me--

[Naturally.]

-- so just let me know when you're ready to head out.

[cactusy]

[From here.]

Shaw stops, turning back to look at him.

"Really?"

Samaritan's simulations are advanced enough to try to compensate and cover for glitches, her brain reminds her.

[abrightboy]

"Yeah. He does it a bunch. Maybe you only hang out with people cooler than us," Malcolm tells her. "Or you were in comas number six and eleven."

[cactusy]

It could be a clear sign of the simulation glitching that only an idiot in denial would brush off.

Or, it could be a completely reasonable explanation in a real-life place where magic is a thing and nothing makes sense, and she's just being crazy again.

"Okay," she says, and starts up walking.

[abrightboy]

He jogs to catch up with her.

"Um, this isn't your usual sparkling banter. Are you okay?"

[cactusy]

"No," she says, picking up her pace as she heads for the stairs. "I want to get out of here and be away from people. Stop following me and go to Neal."

[abrightboy]

"Oh." He stops, letting her go. "Sorry!" he calls after he disappearing back before turning and heading for the elevators.

[hippie_ninja]

Hey. How are you doing?

[cactusy]

You heard about Root, huh.

Are you the type who likes to visit comatose bodies?

[hippie_ninja]

Not...not really no. They can't hear us anyway right?

[cactusy]

That's what I think, but apparently it's a thing.

I'm fine. More bored than usual, but that's not saying much.

[hippie_ninja]

Yeah I can imagine. I'm more bored without her around and I'm not even married to her.

You want to go for a walk?

[cactusy]

A patrol walk, or a walk for walking's sake?

[hippie_ninja]

...Which one will get you to say yes?

[cactusy]

Either. I have dogs, remember?

[hippie_ninja]

Let's patrol.

[cactusy]

Okay; gonna leave the dogs in the cabin, then. See you on the deck in five?