[ It's trud: she hates having to share Shaw this way. At home, they're both on the same team, working toward the same goal. Root knows what's going on, and if she doesn't, she can ask the Machine to check on Shaw for her, and She will because She's committed to keeping Shaw and the rest of them safe.
Being unable to really do anything is frustrating. Not the way it felt to be in Ridgewood; more like the way it felt when she watched Hanna get into that car, knowing it would end badly, and told the adults around her what she saw only to be dismissed or misheard or whatever else it might've been. And then there's just the fact that life, and people, and missions all keep getting in their way. Root doesn't want an idyllic, quiet life, but she does want some kind of stability. At least, she wants the security of knowing all the players on the board and the tools at their disposal.
Here, she doesn't have that. She's not even an interface. She's just analogue. Biological. An accident of evolution lile everyone else back home.
At least she makes good soup. She brings both bowls to the couch, a spoon in each, and holds one out to Shaw. Root is smiling like she's out in a crowd, a small, pleasant, vacant thing, done by rote, just going through the motions. ]
Guess I'll just have to get myself into some trouble. Then I'll be right in the middle of things.
no subject
Being unable to really do anything is frustrating. Not the way it felt to be in Ridgewood; more like the way it felt when she watched Hanna get into that car, knowing it would end badly, and told the adults around her what she saw only to be dismissed or misheard or whatever else it might've been. And then there's just the fact that life, and people, and missions all keep getting in their way. Root doesn't want an idyllic, quiet life, but she does want some kind of stability. At least, she wants the security of knowing all the players on the board and the tools at their disposal.
Here, she doesn't have that. She's not even an interface. She's just analogue. Biological. An accident of evolution lile everyone else back home.
At least she makes good soup. She brings both bowls to the couch, a spoon in each, and holds one out to Shaw. Root is smiling like she's out in a crowd, a small, pleasant, vacant thing, done by rote, just going through the motions. ]
Guess I'll just have to get myself into some trouble. Then I'll be right in the middle of things.