cactusy | IC contact for lastvoyages

That does sound like something Samaritan would do.

[ When she finds Samaritan, she'll compress it to within a Planck length of its life, stuff it in a flash drive, fry it in a microwave, and drill into it until it's more holes than physical materials. And even that would be too kind a fate for it.

Discreetly, Root taps out the Morse for 4AF against Shaw's arm. ]

Hm. You said I was unconscious for about six weeks. That puts us in mid-February. [ A sharp little sigh. Root shakes her head. ] I missed Valentine's Day. On top of all the rest of what you've been dealing with...

[ She leans her head against Shaw's. ]

I don't care about Valentine's Day.

[... That probably sounds harsh in a way she hadn't intended, and she murmurs a quiet Sorry.]

I do care about you.

[ No, it sounds like Shaw stating a fact about herself.

Root pulls back and strokes a finger down Shaw's cheek. ]

And I care about you. So. You tell me what you want to do right now: catch up, talk things out, walk the dogs, watch me cook...

[She is hungry, and Root does look particularly nice to watch right now. Reaching back with her hand, Shaw runs her fingers along the inside of Root's wrist, then trails them up her forearm, over her stomach, and across her hipbone before withdrawing.]

When things don't feel real, it's nice not to have too many choices to make. So, uh-- you can cook. I'll just lie here. I'm still trying to figure out what I think about Neal.

[The orb gets a brief glance.]

We could... talk about that.

[ Well then. ]

I'll cook, you think, and we'll talk over breakfast.

[ She kisses Shaw's cheek and gets to it, with plans to make the most indulgent pancakes she can for Shaw, and a few basic but tasty ones for the dogs. ]

Edited 2024-02-19 19:53 (UTC)

[Shaw is quiet for the first minute or two, staring at the purple-orange smears under the gray as she absently pets Bear's ears (Jet, for his part, has joined Root in the kitchen area, hoping to pick up some scraps). Eventually, without budging her gaze, she says:]

Do you remember when Harold left for a while, after the Machine told us to kill the Congressman?

[ Patience, Jet. Root isn't leaving you or Bear out! ]

Yes. After you and I did Alaska and Miami.

[ Ah, memories. That was before things got terribly complicated. And just before... well. They're here now. And she won't prod now. Shaw is going somewhere with this. Root will let her go at her pace. ]

It's like that, kind of. He's safe, and he's going to go be happy with Raylan, but--

[Shaw's brow furrows.]

It messes with my equilibrium. Everything feels a little off-center.

Of course it does. People help regulate each other's entire state of being. When someone you care about leaves, you're without a part of yourself.

[ All of this said while starting on the actual cooking part. She blows Jet a kiss. Patience! ]

Mmmm.

[The furrow deepens.]

Is that how it was for you without Harold?

Sort of.

[ She focuses on flipping a pancake. It makes remembering feel like she's watching a feed. ]

I'm used to flying solo, and I still had the Machine, but... Harold is irreplaceable. If I anything happened, I know he'd have my back. Without him, facing Samaritan, making sure you and John and Lionel were safe, that our number-- that Grace was safe...

[ Shrugging, she glances over her shoulder at Shaw. ]

I felt off-balance.

I've never felt like a person was a part of me, or that I'm missing a piece of myself when they're gone. I can't even imagine what that's like. But...

[She traces one of the faint orange swirls.]

We fit well together. And now there's an empty space, not inside me but next to me.

You did fit well together.

[ And there's nothing anyone can say or do to fill the space Neal left behind in Shaw's life, and no one to be angry with over it happening at all. ]

Is there any way you can see each other again? Someday?

He says he's coming back someday, but I don't know why he would. And that's how life works; nothing lasts forever. He's alive. That's the most important thing.

[And she really does mean all that.

But. Empty space.]

[ And when something ends, people feel the loss. That's part of life too. ]

He's alive, and you have your memories of him.

[ Done with the basic pancakes, she starts on the fancy ones. Would that she could leave them to cook on their own so she could sit with Shaw and hold her. Telling her that it's okay to miss him is redundant; Shaw knows that. But oh does Root want to just hug the heck out of her. ]

What does the emotion ball say when you hold it and talk about Neal?

Orange. Purple.

[Remembering their deal, she picks up the paper again, scanning it until she finds the relevant colors.]

Purple is worry or concern. Orange is discomfort.

Really? I wouldn't have thought orange would mean that. [ A brief but very present pause. ] I couldn't have picked which colors mean unpleasant emotions at all, actually.

[ Oh-- well, that pancake is a little extra crispy. ]

Black?

[Shaw suggests, tilting her head.]

But that's--

[Another scan of the paper.]

'Anger, fury'.

Hm. My first thought when it comes to black is safety: wearing black, hiding in the dark, striking from afar like you're invisible. But that's just me.

[ Root and her distinctly uncommon view of things. ]

Safety is a physical state, not an emotion. So, uh-- what emotions indicate safety? Relaxation?

Relaxation. Confidence. Trust.

[ Which, to Root, make safety also an emotional state, but she knows she feels enough emotions for both of them, which skews her perception of these things. ]

What colors stand for those?

I don't know if those count as emotions, either. Sheehan tries to make the point that the line between emotion and bodily state is kinda blurry sometimes.

[She scans the list, looking for those words in particular, then shakes her head.]

They're not on here. Relaxation's related to... pink, maybe. Enjoyment.

It's very blurry, in my opinion.

[ She starts getting everyone's plates ready. Yes, the dogs are getting served on plates. ]

The emotion ball showed a lot of pink when I held it, didn't it.

I guess you like me a little bit.

[She goes for a lighthearted teasing tone, but the weariness still seeps in.]

Guess so!

[ She gives the dogs their plates, then comes back to the couch with hers and Shaw's plates, holding out Shaw's with a flourish. ]

So much more than a little bit. You're kind of stuck with me forever.

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