[Shaw hangs back: not stopping, but walking noticeably slower, staying a couple feet behind Root. That little smile sticks around on her face, hovering somewhere between amused and fond.]
Good thing you got the ring covered; I'm off the hook.
Please, like I'd agree to get married for a piece of costume jewelry. The last guy I made give me a real emerald.
[ Root puts on a coat and then shuffles them out the door, all three of them, as she returns the banter. She clearly has a plan because she doesn't mind leading them and sets out unerringly from their apartment. ]
Okay, there is no way you've actually been married before.
[It's said as a challenge. If she's wrong (and despite her words, she knows that she very well might be; Root has had a weird-ass life and has run some even weirder cons), then she wants to hear this story.]
[Shaw scoffs and shakes her head, picking up the pace a little so that they're walking side by side. Bear trots along happily, shoving his way between them so that he can nose at both their hands at the same time.]
Come on, full story. Was he a dick? What did you need out of him? Did you make him cry?
[ Root is not intrinsically a dog or other pet person, but Bear really is so cute. She happily lets him squeeze his way in between them as they walk. ]
Which one? [ she asks dryly. ] It wasn't one time. They were just jobs, Shaw.
[ Sometimes fun, but ultimately jobs. Root doesn't have any emotional attachment to those guys. She's typically more concerned with being onto the next one. ]
[Shaw shimmies around Bear so that she can bump her hip against Root's; Bear takes being displaced in stride, and moves to trot along ahead of them, as if he too knows exactly where they're going.]
I'm not jealous, I'm curious. I didn't do the honey-trapping thing much; I didn't have the patience for it.
I considered it, but he's so devoted to that fiancée. It's actually really adorable; she still has his picture and everything.
[ Root is thorough, okay? It was a viable option. And she does like Grace, really hadn't wanted to hurt her, and is fervently glad now she never did. Harold and Grace both didn't deserve that under any circumstances. She sees that now. She doesn't agree with all the lines the Machine draws, but this one, she gets. At least in retrospect. ]
Complicated was a kind way to put it, [ she says wryly. ] I kidnapped him. But that's not why I was bringing it up.
[The admission of kidnapping earns Root a soft snort and another hip bump, this one a little gentler than the first. Of course she'd kidnapped Finch - and of course, Shaw suspects, Finch had taken it a lot less in stride than she herself had. No wonder he'd seemed so rattled by the mere mention of her; by the reminder that he had her face on his bulletin board.]
Okay.
[She means it as an opening: then why were you bringing it up, Root?]
[ Oh good, Shaw isn't getting diverted by tales of her kidnapping one of her other favorite people as a means of introduction. That's why they're perfect together. Root passes her a sidelong smile, bright and energized, hip bumping her back. ]
Okay, so, I had to establish a pretty deep cover as a clinical psychologist for months ahead of time. Mostly for rich self-important men. It was very similar to convincing some schmuck that I was in love with him.
[Root's smile feels like the soothing, steady press of a palm against her chest. It's not the overwhelming wave of feeling that she's heard other people describe when they talk about what love feels like, but it's warm and comforting all the same. She doesn't smile back, but she lets her gaze linger on Root's, deadpanning:]
And how did you feel about that?
[Sorry, Root; you left the dumb joke window wide open.]
[It's not an alias she's ever personally encountered, but that doesn't make it hard to guess: unlike Root, the rest of them pretty much always used the same first names.]
No way. On a job, or looking for help with his dark and tortured soul?
On the job, of course. I took a hit out on myself, [ Root explains nonchalantly as they come up on the Sandwich Hut, ] so my number came up. Well, Caroline Turing's did.
Easiest way to get close to me to protect me was to be a client. Things were so simple back then, [ she muses. ]
[Only Root would take her on a date to a sandwich shop, Shaw thinks, a bloom of fondness surfacing in her chest. It's that thought that helps her keep this light: talking about John too much always feels like a bit of a high-wire act. The probably-dead aren't off-limits for being lovingly roasted, but it's two skips and a jump from that to nostalgia, and she doesn't think that's the vibe that Root is going for here.
-- Well. She doesn't think it until Root says that last bit, anyway. She tugs on a lock of Root's hair, prodding:]
So how long did it take him to figure you out, and how far did he go with the chivalry before he did?
[ That's not the whole date, Shaw, that would be lame. They're just here to pick up supplies. As far as picking sandwiches goes, though, Root might want to make a thing out of Valentine's Day for the fun of it, but she does want Shaw to actually enjoy herself. There's two of her favorites for her, a simple roast beef and cheese sandwich for Bear, and a grilled chicken panini for Root. ]
So little faith in my acting skills. Mr. Rooney kindly fought off a full-scale assault by HR while he had his mysterious partner bring me to safety.
Wait here a second. [ She ducks in to grab the bag of sandwiches she'd ordered ahead and comes right back out carrying it. ] This is just a pit stop.
Anyway, I did give him real therapy before all that went down. Veterans so commonly have hypervigilance. [ Root is absolutely on the train of lovingly roasting people who are probably dead. She'd expect nothing else for her memory, either; remembering someone at all is sweet. ]
[Shaw, who is perfectly capable of being polite(ish) when she wants to be, does not immediately grab for the sandwich bag. She and Bear do both give it practically identical looks of interest, though; one can practically see Shaw's ears perk up the way Bear's do.]
Root, no offense, but are you actually qualified to give people real therapy?
[ Root pointedly holds the sandwich bag away from them and sets off again. ]
I'm probably more qualified than most of the people charging for it, [ she huffs. You can take the girl out of the cynical nihilist forum boards but you can't take the cynicism out of the girl. She'd legitimately studied for her clinical psychologist cover, at least, whether or not she has a real license. ]
I really didn't get what Harold saw in him at the time. Apart from a nice loyal pet.
[Shaw's willingness to roast the probably-dead apparently has its limits, because she refrains from shooting back an I don't get it, either. She does get it, of course: John is (was?) loyal, determined, compassionate, and brave. A good soldier like her, even when it ripped him apart.
She hmms, glancing away from Root and down at her feet.]
[ Root is really roasting herself at this point, not John. ]
Well. He raised hell with me to find you, no questions asked, after you were taken. [ She keeps looking straight ahead steadily as she walks. ] So I came around.
[She cuts herself off, wondering if she should even be bringing this up. Root is trying to show her a nice time; surely she doesn't want her to ruin it.]
[ She doesn't really want to get into everything she'd done while Shaw was gone, not any more than she already has -- but Root is definitely curious about what happened in the simulations, and she's not so easily dissuaded. She's accepted what happened to Shaw; here and now, safe and enjoying themselves, she's not going to let anything be ruined.
Her step lightens and she looks over at Shaw sidelong with interest. ]
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expiationnet
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Good thing you got the ring covered; I'm off the hook.
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[ Root puts on a coat and then shuffles them out the door, all three of them, as she returns the banter. She clearly has a plan because she doesn't mind leading them and sets out unerringly from their apartment. ]
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[It's said as a challenge. If she's wrong (and despite her words, she knows that she very well might be; Root has had a weird-ass life and has run some even weirder cons), then she wants to hear this story.]
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[ Get them into a committed relationship with an attractive woman who panders to them, and you can get practically anything out of them. ]
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Come on, full story. Was he a dick? What did you need out of him? Did you make him cry?
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Which one? [ she asks dryly. ] It wasn't one time. They were just jobs, Shaw.
[ Sometimes fun, but ultimately jobs. Root doesn't have any emotional attachment to those guys. She's typically more concerned with being onto the next one. ]
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I'm not jealous, I'm curious. I didn't do the honey-trapping thing much; I didn't have the patience for it.
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[ But sure, she can talk about it. It's kind of hilariously appropriate for Valentine's Day, in their own way.
Actually... ] Did I ever tell you how I introduced myself to Harry? That was a long game, too.
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[Okay, she knows that can't have been how it happened, but goddamn is it a funny mental image.]
I, uh-- I asked him about you once, actually, really early on. He did say you two had a complicated history.
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[ Root is thorough, okay? It was a viable option. And she does like Grace, really hadn't wanted to hurt her, and is fervently glad now she never did. Harold and Grace both didn't deserve that under any circumstances. She sees that now. She doesn't agree with all the lines the Machine draws, but this one, she gets. At least in retrospect. ]
Complicated was a kind way to put it, [ she says wryly. ] I kidnapped him. But that's not why I was bringing it up.
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Okay.
[She means it as an opening: then why were you bringing it up, Root?]
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Okay, so, I had to establish a pretty deep cover as a clinical psychologist for months ahead of time. Mostly for rich self-important men. It was very similar to convincing some schmuck that I was in love with him.
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And how did you feel about that?
[Sorry, Root; you left the dumb joke window wide open.]
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Frankly, it was tedious, but ultimately worth it. Because one day, someone fun showed up on Dr. Turing's client list. You might know him--
[ Slyly, ] John Rooney?
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No way. On a job, or looking for help with his dark and tortured soul?
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Easiest way to get close to me to protect me was to be a client. Things were so simple back then, [ she muses. ]
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-- Well. She doesn't think it until Root says that last bit, anyway. She tugs on a lock of Root's hair, prodding:]
So how long did it take him to figure you out, and how far did he go with the chivalry before he did?
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So little faith in my acting skills. Mr. Rooney kindly fought off a full-scale assault by HR while he had his mysterious partner bring me to safety.
Wait here a second. [ She ducks in to grab the bag of sandwiches she'd ordered ahead and comes right back out carrying it. ] This is just a pit stop.
Anyway, I did give him real therapy before all that went down. Veterans so commonly have hypervigilance. [ Root is absolutely on the train of lovingly roasting people who are probably dead. She'd expect nothing else for her memory, either; remembering someone at all is sweet. ]
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Root, no offense, but are you actually qualified to give people real therapy?
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I'm probably more qualified than most of the people charging for it, [ she huffs. You can take the girl out of the cynical nihilist forum boards but you can't take the cynicism out of the girl. She'd legitimately studied for her clinical psychologist cover, at least, whether or not she has a real license. ]
I really didn't get what Harold saw in him at the time. Apart from a nice loyal pet.
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She hmms, glancing away from Root and down at her feet.]
You ever change your mind about that?
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Well. He raised hell with me to find you, no questions asked, after you were taken. [ She keeps looking straight ahead steadily as she walks. ] So I came around.
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[She cuts herself off, wondering if she should even be bringing this up. Root is trying to show her a nice time; surely she doesn't want her to ruin it.]
Uh. Yeah. Good for him.
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Her step lightens and she looks over at Shaw sidelong with interest. ]
No, go on. What happened in the simulations?
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[She shrugs, discomfited.]
Doesn't matter; I shouldn't've mentioned it.
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