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Aw. Are you saying just me isn't enough?
[ She affects a very convincing pout. ]
I got dressed up and everything.
[ She affects a very convincing pout. ]
I got dressed up and everything.
Well I guess I can let you in. What with you all dolled up and everything.
You bring any toys?
You bring any toys?
[Root's whispered little promise pulls a moan out of Shaw, equal to the one that Carver elicits when he palms her chest (and this particular symmetry she likes, thank you very much). In other circumstances, with other people, it might have been embarrassing - but she knows that Carver is probably too busy reading too much into his own actions to give her shit for hers, she's long since moved past the point of embarrassment with Root. As long as she doesn't get too unbearably smug about how easily she can get Shaw to roll over for her, it's all good.
Someone less good at multitasking might put all her attention into doing to Carver what she wants done to her - or, alternately, would lose track of Root's intentions and focus solely on the man under her hands. Shaw doesn't have that problem. She leans her back into Root, but cranes her neck up, not breaking the liplock with Carver. She hooks a hand around his neck, holding him in place firmly enough to convey intentionality, but not so firmly that he couldn't easily break away if he chose to. Her shirt's off, his shirt's off-- and her other hand slooooowly trails its way down his chest and stomach, her fingers tracing the waistline of his pants. Just thinking ahead.]
Someone less good at multitasking might put all her attention into doing to Carver what she wants done to her - or, alternately, would lose track of Root's intentions and focus solely on the man under her hands. Shaw doesn't have that problem. She leans her back into Root, but cranes her neck up, not breaking the liplock with Carver. She hooks a hand around his neck, holding him in place firmly enough to convey intentionality, but not so firmly that he couldn't easily break away if he chose to. Her shirt's off, his shirt's off-- and her other hand slooooowly trails its way down his chest and stomach, her fingers tracing the waistline of his pants. Just thinking ahead.]
I don't want you to let me in, [ she clarifies, dropping the pout. ] I want you to come out.
Can't hide in your apocalypse bunker all the time!
[ She's heard and/or guessed that they have some major PTSD going on, so Root is perfectly deliberate in trying to pry Bossie out of their safehouse. ]
Can't hide in your apocalypse bunker all the time!
[ She's heard and/or guessed that they have some major PTSD going on, so Root is perfectly deliberate in trying to pry Bossie out of their safehouse. ]
[ Jealousy is the furthest thing from her mind -- if anything, she's thinking the opposite, about how to make sure this goes well. It's so easy for others to miss that Shaw doesn't actually want to be in charge all the time, and Root assumes most of her prior lovers have required training or otherwise been profoundly unsatisfying.
They haven't talked about it explicitly, but Root puts a tremendous amount of thought and energy into understanding Shaw, and she has a natural facility for human connection besides. She usually finds people tedious, but she wouldn't be such a good manipulator and identity chameleon if she didn't have a base aptitude for them. So although they've had sex comparatively few times, Root is confident she has an accurate read on Shaw's sexual tastes. Therefore, she's being quite deliberate in making sure Carver notices how Shaw likes things. He said it had been a while for him and he was open to direction; Shaw is amusingly bad at communicating; Root sees a perfect place to step in.
Mirroring what she's doing exactly would make for awkward body mechanics, which just gives Root an excuse to remove her mouth from Shaw's neck and replace it with a hand, arm wrapping around her and palm settling over her throat. She gives only a subtle squeeze, meant to tease and not take over the scene.
Her other hand slides down to tease lower, fingers slipping past waistline just as hers search out Carver's. ]
They haven't talked about it explicitly, but Root puts a tremendous amount of thought and energy into understanding Shaw, and she has a natural facility for human connection besides. She usually finds people tedious, but she wouldn't be such a good manipulator and identity chameleon if she didn't have a base aptitude for them. So although they've had sex comparatively few times, Root is confident she has an accurate read on Shaw's sexual tastes. Therefore, she's being quite deliberate in making sure Carver notices how Shaw likes things. He said it had been a while for him and he was open to direction; Shaw is amusingly bad at communicating; Root sees a perfect place to step in.
Mirroring what she's doing exactly would make for awkward body mechanics, which just gives Root an excuse to remove her mouth from Shaw's neck and replace it with a hand, arm wrapping around her and palm settling over her throat. She gives only a subtle squeeze, meant to tease and not take over the scene.
Her other hand slides down to tease lower, fingers slipping past waistline just as hers search out Carver's. ]
[Well that's interesting. And easier on his paranoia. He shuts off the mic and steps outside to greet her.]
What are we going to do outside my cozy apocalypse bunker?
What are we going to do outside my cozy apocalypse bunker?
Good.
[ Clea is pleased that she is a source of surprise. That she adds some of that all-important entropy to the other woman's life. She does strive to be interesting. She could have easily rested on her parents' laurels and name and spent her life creating insipid 'art', or singing absurd songs others wrote that contained as much intellectual substance as cotton candy.
Instead, she has devoted her life to the esoteric and the odd, to plumbing the depths and crannies of the human experience and rendering them. To reminding people that there is more in heaven and Earth than is dreamed of in their philosophies.
To have succeeded with a woman with such a unique life is a source of pride.
To be so admired by a woman with such a unique experience is a source of pleasure. Clea smiles. It is not a soft expression: there is an fierce edge to it, a glint in her eyes. It is an expression of triumph. ]
That is true. I wish I had photographed my parents' faces when they realized I'd taken custody of my sister.
[ They had thought she was bluffing. That they could remain in their fairy tale world playing games while their lives burned and Clea would do nothing.
Clea leans forward and gives Root her full attention, grey eyes examining her thoroughly, as she would any piece of art. ]
You are more yourself than you used to be.
[ Hmm. No. That is not correct. Root has always been herself, even underneath the mask. ]
You exist in more of your potential space than you had before. You grow in many directions instead of one.
[ Clea is pleased that she is a source of surprise. That she adds some of that all-important entropy to the other woman's life. She does strive to be interesting. She could have easily rested on her parents' laurels and name and spent her life creating insipid 'art', or singing absurd songs others wrote that contained as much intellectual substance as cotton candy.
Instead, she has devoted her life to the esoteric and the odd, to plumbing the depths and crannies of the human experience and rendering them. To reminding people that there is more in heaven and Earth than is dreamed of in their philosophies.
To have succeeded with a woman with such a unique life is a source of pride.
To be so admired by a woman with such a unique experience is a source of pleasure. Clea smiles. It is not a soft expression: there is an fierce edge to it, a glint in her eyes. It is an expression of triumph. ]
That is true. I wish I had photographed my parents' faces when they realized I'd taken custody of my sister.
[ They had thought she was bluffing. That they could remain in their fairy tale world playing games while their lives burned and Clea would do nothing.
Clea leans forward and gives Root her full attention, grey eyes examining her thoroughly, as she would any piece of art. ]
You are more yourself than you used to be.
[ Hmm. No. That is not correct. Root has always been herself, even underneath the mask. ]
You exist in more of your potential space than you had before. You grow in many directions instead of one.
[ continued from here ]
[ That makes her smile widen, eyes returning to the road as she follows the GPS to the next off-ramp. ]
That's the spirit. We're stopping for gas -- you'll have to stay in the car, but I'll grab you a snack. And that coffee.
Any requests?
[ Another little choice, a light push to get him used to thinking about making his own decisions.
They're in upstate New York in a heavily wooded rural area, the isolation convenient for the research facility. It's too dark to see much at the moment, but the trees are sprayed with color as the leaves turn for the winter, and the road winds beside the craggy cliffs of old mountains. They're going to be driving for hours to make it back to the city, and Root is certain there's a detour with a good view that the Machine can find, even if it will be in the middle of the night. ]
[ That makes her smile widen, eyes returning to the road as she follows the GPS to the next off-ramp. ]
That's the spirit. We're stopping for gas -- you'll have to stay in the car, but I'll grab you a snack. And that coffee.
Any requests?
[ Another little choice, a light push to get him used to thinking about making his own decisions.
They're in upstate New York in a heavily wooded rural area, the isolation convenient for the research facility. It's too dark to see much at the moment, but the trees are sprayed with color as the leaves turn for the winter, and the road winds beside the craggy cliffs of old mountains. They're going to be driving for hours to make it back to the city, and Root is certain there's a detour with a good view that the Machine can find, even if it will be in the middle of the night. ]
[ Root looks him up and down, taking his measure in a way that distinctly does not feel flirty. ]
Depends what you're up for. I have to admit, I'm not really a dinner and a movie sort of girl.
Depends what you're up for. I have to admit, I'm not really a dinner and a movie sort of girl.
Good. I can't sit still in a dark room. Let's go do something fun.
[What counts as fun to Root? He has no idea but he suspects he'll like it]
[What counts as fun to Root? He has no idea but he suspects he'll like it]
[ Okay, Carver thinks, smiling at that noise Shaw makes. He likes the way she cups his skull with her hand, holding him there. Not pinning, but directing him. And it's easy to follow; he's good at that. Easy, too, to watch how Root moves. To take note of how she and Root fit together, the ways they bend. The hand Root puts around Shaw's throat like a promise.
His stomach tightens but he squeezes Shaw's breasts again, figuring out what pressure she likes. Maybe she likes to be contained the same way he does, sometimes. There'd be symmetry in that.
He doesn't flinch at Root's hand. Just lifts his hip and undoes his belt to help her, because that's easy. ]
Don't touch my scars, [ he murmurs, because he knows they're ugly - that dappling of keloid tissue over his hip, the knife and gunshot scarring on his back. He can still feel things there, just muted. He leans forward and sucks a mark into Shaw's throat, just because. ]
His stomach tightens but he squeezes Shaw's breasts again, figuring out what pressure she likes. Maybe she likes to be contained the same way he does, sometimes. There'd be symmetry in that.
He doesn't flinch at Root's hand. Just lifts his hip and undoes his belt to help her, because that's easy. ]
Don't touch my scars, [ he murmurs, because he knows they're ugly - that dappling of keloid tissue over his hip, the knife and gunshot scarring on his back. He can still feel things there, just muted. He leans forward and sucks a mark into Shaw's throat, just because. ]
[Accelerator frowns faintly at having to stay in the car, but he understands why and doesn't argue. Besides, seeing so much outdoors is still pretty overwhelming to him, so staying in an enclosed space separated from all that nature is probably a good thing.]
I don't know. [He, sadly, does not have a lot of experience with gas station snacks, though he still takes Root's question seriously and thinks for a few moments.] Anything that goes with coffee.
[That seems like a safe bet, and after everything that just happened he could use something to eat.]
I don't know. [He, sadly, does not have a lot of experience with gas station snacks, though he still takes Root's question seriously and thinks for a few moments.] Anything that goes with coffee.
[That seems like a safe bet, and after everything that just happened he could use something to eat.]
[ Root doesn't like soft things, so she adores Clea's resulting smile. She's drawn to anything she can't easily explain that's also sharp enough to cut her if she isn't careful. It's the danger, but also the intellectual wonder. Not just mysteries for the sake of being mysterious, but something tangible and real that she can play with yet can't quite control, not just something to be turned over in her mind.
Then Clea compliments her back, and it's a direct demonstration of how she manages to surprise her. Root is not naturally shy -- she doesn't exactly break eye contact -- but she deals with her resulting emotions by putting on a show under Clea's direct scrutiny. She straightens from where she was leaning against the table and reaches up, pulling the hair sticks out of her hair that keep her chignon in place. With a quick shake of her head, the waves of hair fall around her. Everything is done with the smoothness of someone who inhabits their body utterly, every inch possessed willfully.
Her dress is revealed to be two deceptive pieces when she reaches in at the waist to slyly draw out a tiny handgun she'd been concealing. She leans to the side and places it on the desk with a soft clink. ]
I bet you say that to all the girls.
[ She knows, of course, that she doesn't. ]
I found someone, [ she confesses. ] She can see everything in me, every potential. And she thought in there was something good.
Then Clea compliments her back, and it's a direct demonstration of how she manages to surprise her. Root is not naturally shy -- she doesn't exactly break eye contact -- but she deals with her resulting emotions by putting on a show under Clea's direct scrutiny. She straightens from where she was leaning against the table and reaches up, pulling the hair sticks out of her hair that keep her chignon in place. With a quick shake of her head, the waves of hair fall around her. Everything is done with the smoothness of someone who inhabits their body utterly, every inch possessed willfully.
Her dress is revealed to be two deceptive pieces when she reaches in at the waist to slyly draw out a tiny handgun she'd been concealing. She leans to the side and places it on the desk with a soft clink. ]
I bet you say that to all the girls.
[ She knows, of course, that she doesn't. ]
I found someone, [ she confesses. ] She can see everything in me, every potential. And she thought in there was something good.
[ God forbid they have a second person on the team who doesn't act like socializing is pulling teeth. Incredible. Root brightens with a smile and starts flouncing away to the stairs and up to the street level. ]
Harry got the big lug a sailboat -- have you seen it? It's been a while, but I'm sure I could figure out how sailing works.
[ And if she doesn't and they capsize, who cares? That's ridiculously tame consequences by Root's usual standards. ]
Harry got the big lug a sailboat -- have you seen it? It's been a while, but I'm sure I could figure out how sailing works.
[ And if she doesn't and they capsize, who cares? That's ridiculously tame consequences by Root's usual standards. ]
You got it.
[ Root greatly appreciates how sensible Accelerator is as she pulls into a gas station and slips out of the car. They're still remote enough that it's a quiet place, the lights glaring and abrupt amid the darkened landscape, one solitary employee half-asleep inside at the counter.
She pays with cash, naturally, but is otherwise a perfunctory whirlwind filling up the gas tank and sweeping through the convenience store. When she returns, she opens the door and leans in to dump a plastic bag on Accelerator's lap before taking the driver's seat again. There's four cold cans of coffee, two black and two milk-sweetened, and a small assortment of snacks from shortbread to granola bars to gummies. ]
Gimme. At least one of those is for me.
[ Root greatly appreciates how sensible Accelerator is as she pulls into a gas station and slips out of the car. They're still remote enough that it's a quiet place, the lights glaring and abrupt amid the darkened landscape, one solitary employee half-asleep inside at the counter.
She pays with cash, naturally, but is otherwise a perfunctory whirlwind filling up the gas tank and sweeping through the convenience store. When she returns, she opens the door and leans in to dump a plastic bag on Accelerator's lap before taking the driver's seat again. There's four cold cans of coffee, two black and two milk-sweetened, and a small assortment of snacks from shortbread to granola bars to gummies. ]
Gimme. At least one of those is for me.
[Don't touch the incredibly sexy scars. Okay. It's a little disappointing, because she's itching to explore them, but she can rein in the impulse.]
You can touch mine.
[She tells him, low in his ear, as she guides one of his hands to her lower back. Her own scars aren't so dramatic - there are a few burn marks back there, as well as the bumpy aftermath of several stitch-jobs done in the field - and they're all easily covered up by clothing. But she can mentally match each one to a past job, most of them years old.
His hand on her chest is nice. But it's his hand here that makes her pulse quicken.]
You can touch mine.
[She tells him, low in his ear, as she guides one of his hands to her lower back. Her own scars aren't so dramatic - there are a few burn marks back there, as well as the bumpy aftermath of several stitch-jobs done in the field - and they're all easily covered up by clothing. But she can mentally match each one to a past job, most of them years old.
His hand on her chest is nice. But it's his hand here that makes her pulse quicken.]
[ Root isn't in a hurry; Carver undoes his belt and she flicks the top button open with a teasing nudge against the hollow part of his navel, then pulls her hand back and does the same to Shaw, leaving their flies open but unexplored. ]
If she can't mark you where people can see, you should mark her, [ she suggests helpfully. Her hand on Shaw's throat squeezes once, playful. ]
Don't be nice. She likes it with an edge -- and we don't need to hide you.
If she can't mark you where people can see, you should mark her, [ she suggests helpfully. Her hand on Shaw's throat squeezes once, playful. ]
Don't be nice. She likes it with an edge -- and we don't need to hide you.
[ Ah. That gets a reaction, muted though it is. But this close, their hands all caught up in each other, Carver marks the way Shaw's breathing changes when she guides his hands to her back. He smooths his palms over her skin, feeling out the change in textures. The topography of scars even as Root squeezes Shaw's throat.
Don't be nice, Root advises, and Carver grins at her. There have to be rules, he knows. There have to be rules when people touch each other because otherwise it turns into something else. But it's not so hard to figure out here. He hums a little and digs his fingers into the line of an old burn scar just to see what it makes Shaw do. ]
Heard, [ he replies, teasing a little. Eyes bright as he watches them, brighter still as he leans in and presses a biting kiss to Shaw's throat. ]
Don't be nice, Root advises, and Carver grins at her. There have to be rules, he knows. There have to be rules when people touch each other because otherwise it turns into something else. But it's not so hard to figure out here. He hums a little and digs his fingers into the line of an old burn scar just to see what it makes Shaw do. ]
Heard, [ he replies, teasing a little. Eyes bright as he watches them, brighter still as he leans in and presses a biting kiss to Shaw's throat. ]
[Accelerator peers into the bag, rifling through it right away. All of this stuff is very new to him, so he can't help being curious.]
Fine.
[Okay, fine, he can share. He pulls out the two cans of black coffee, quick to open one up and take a sip. It's way more bitter than he's used to and he makes a face, but it's also got more flavour than the garbage he had to eat in the facility. So after a moment of thought, he takes another sip and pulls out a granola bar.]
What else did you get?
Fine.
[Okay, fine, he can share. He pulls out the two cans of black coffee, quick to open one up and take a sip. It's way more bitter than he's used to and he makes a face, but it's also got more flavour than the garbage he had to eat in the facility. So after a moment of thought, he takes another sip and pulls out a granola bar.]
What else did you get?
[ It's not a short-term plan.
That doesn't bother Root. It's not like she has competing priorities -- no voice in her cochlear implant toning instructions, no amazing, gorgeous, blindingly unconventional badass woman to save -- and she only has assumptions about what she's doing here, so she might as well go all in and take her time. They're strong assumptions, admittedly. She's worked for the Machine (claimed her as her own) for years now and Root has begun to internalize what she would want of her.
She doesn't always do whatever that is, but she is conscientious when she doesn't, and she makes sure it's worth it.
Funnily enough, she's perfectly clear that the Machine's priorities in this case would be to preserve human life at the expense of androids. Harold had programmed her that way. But Harold hadn't anticipated any artificial intelligence gaining sentience, not even his own, and that's what's happening. Her dearest tribute to the Machine and the way she and Harry had saved her in life is obviously to usher in a new era here after her death.
For that, she can give however much time she has left. Besides -- sentient androids is delightful. If this is the afterlife, it may as well be a reward for her.
By the time she encounters Connor, it's purposefully, deliberately arranged. The level of technology here is close to what she's used to, and it hadn't taken long to get herself set up with a false identity, an illicit criminal business, a bank account and a decent computer. Hacking Detroit PD was a little different than what she was used to at home, but she adjusted quickly.
RK800 is a unique prototype model using the name Connor, explicitly created and programmed to clean up Cyberlife's messes for them. (That part wasn't in police files; she'd put it together herself using reasoning and experience with corporate mega-entities. Root hasn't dared to try hacking into Cyberlife itself just yet, but it's on her list.) Deviancy is such a classically human concept applied to machines who, really, don't need to be burdened with human concepts at all. It's no wonder androids, as they gain sentience, are starting to commit crimes. It's only deviant insomuch as it ruins Cyberlife's plans for market domination.
But this does seem like the way in, the place to start inserting herself into what's happening. Detroit is ground zero for the slowly burgeoning android uprising, and Root wants in. She knows she can be valuable. And if she can't find them herself, latching onto the android investigator who's in hot pursuit is the next best thing. ]
I don't know, [ she says, fretting, hair a mess and scrapes across her cheek that she'd given herself. Root's eyes are wide with innocent distress, hands curled into knots on top of the table in the interrogation room. She's Rosalind Carson, victim of assault from an android gone deviant and now missing. ]
It was like it all came out of nowhere. If you find him, you're not going to hurt him, are you? [ She chews at her lip, torn. ] He was really... I mean, he was kind of the only family I had for a while.
[ She'd picked her tactic here in advance: how would RK800, Connor, hold up to a human who openly accepted an android's personhood, even after they attacked her? ]
That doesn't bother Root. It's not like she has competing priorities -- no voice in her cochlear implant toning instructions, no amazing, gorgeous, blindingly unconventional badass woman to save -- and she only has assumptions about what she's doing here, so she might as well go all in and take her time. They're strong assumptions, admittedly. She's worked for the Machine (claimed her as her own) for years now and Root has begun to internalize what she would want of her.
She doesn't always do whatever that is, but she is conscientious when she doesn't, and she makes sure it's worth it.
Funnily enough, she's perfectly clear that the Machine's priorities in this case would be to preserve human life at the expense of androids. Harold had programmed her that way. But Harold hadn't anticipated any artificial intelligence gaining sentience, not even his own, and that's what's happening. Her dearest tribute to the Machine and the way she and Harry had saved her in life is obviously to usher in a new era here after her death.
For that, she can give however much time she has left. Besides -- sentient androids is delightful. If this is the afterlife, it may as well be a reward for her.
By the time she encounters Connor, it's purposefully, deliberately arranged. The level of technology here is close to what she's used to, and it hadn't taken long to get herself set up with a false identity, an illicit criminal business, a bank account and a decent computer. Hacking Detroit PD was a little different than what she was used to at home, but she adjusted quickly.
RK800 is a unique prototype model using the name Connor, explicitly created and programmed to clean up Cyberlife's messes for them. (That part wasn't in police files; she'd put it together herself using reasoning and experience with corporate mega-entities. Root hasn't dared to try hacking into Cyberlife itself just yet, but it's on her list.) Deviancy is such a classically human concept applied to machines who, really, don't need to be burdened with human concepts at all. It's no wonder androids, as they gain sentience, are starting to commit crimes. It's only deviant insomuch as it ruins Cyberlife's plans for market domination.
But this does seem like the way in, the place to start inserting herself into what's happening. Detroit is ground zero for the slowly burgeoning android uprising, and Root wants in. She knows she can be valuable. And if she can't find them herself, latching onto the android investigator who's in hot pursuit is the next best thing. ]
I don't know, [ she says, fretting, hair a mess and scrapes across her cheek that she'd given herself. Root's eyes are wide with innocent distress, hands curled into knots on top of the table in the interrogation room. She's Rosalind Carson, victim of assault from an android gone deviant and now missing. ]
It was like it all came out of nowhere. If you find him, you're not going to hurt him, are you? [ She chews at her lip, torn. ] He was really... I mean, he was kind of the only family I had for a while.
[ She'd picked her tactic here in advance: how would RK800, Connor, hold up to a human who openly accepted an android's personhood, even after they attacked her? ]
Edited 2025-11-15 19:43 (UTC)
[ Grey eyes remain focused on the other woman, watching her movements with undisguised interest, the way her hair cascades down her shoulders, the precise motions that Root is taking to make it fall so sweetly. She's been given a show, and peeling back the layers to get a look at the performer results in a deeper appreciation: To know that everything Root does is deliberate and an attempt to provoke a reaction in Clea. Root is trying for her. It warms Clea's heart - and other parts.
How lovely.
Clea raises an eyebrow when Root places the handgun on the desk. ]
Ah, so it was a gun. I thought you were just happy to see me.
[ A jest, lobbed in return for Root's. She can tell Root is happy to see her and she doesn't require reassurance. Clea listens to Root's confession as seriously as any priest does a congregant's confessions, holding the sentences in her mind as though they are made of ceramic, delicate and worthy of being handled with care.
This is not something that Root would tell most people. ]
I am pleased to hear that, though I hope you eventually come to believe that about yourself internally.
[ Relying on someone else for one's sense of self-esteem is not a good practice to get into. ]
Mmm...you didn't come here to ask me to help you move in with her, did you?
How lovely.
Clea raises an eyebrow when Root places the handgun on the desk. ]
Ah, so it was a gun. I thought you were just happy to see me.
[ A jest, lobbed in return for Root's. She can tell Root is happy to see her and she doesn't require reassurance. Clea listens to Root's confession as seriously as any priest does a congregant's confessions, holding the sentences in her mind as though they are made of ceramic, delicate and worthy of being handled with care.
This is not something that Root would tell most people. ]
I am pleased to hear that, though I hope you eventually come to believe that about yourself internally.
[ Relying on someone else for one's sense of self-esteem is not a good practice to get into. ]
Mmm...you didn't come here to ask me to help you move in with her, did you?
I can sail.
[And then a laugh] You call him Harry? Does that make him make that face he gets when he's uncomfortable?
[And then a laugh] You call him Harry? Does that make him make that face he gets when he's uncomfortable?
Unless you got driving lessons between all the inhumane science experiments, I'm gonna be the one driving all night, [ she points out.
Root accepts the coffee, pops the can open, and has herself situated and on the road again all while she answers. There's a vitality, almost a perpetual urgency, to her now that she's not pretending to be Caroline Turing -- and her speech itself is brighter and sharper, less measured. ]
Just some snacks. Save some peach rings for me.
[ Extremely critical driving fuel. No, she's really just saying that to tweak him, purposefully acting casual about it all even though she knows every single thing in that bag is likely new to him. They're for him, not her. Once Root is on a mission she can go, go, go without sleep or sustenance for quite a while, bolstered solely by her nerves and conviction.
And this is just part two of the mission. She's not at all off-duty. ]
Root accepts the coffee, pops the can open, and has herself situated and on the road again all while she answers. There's a vitality, almost a perpetual urgency, to her now that she's not pretending to be Caroline Turing -- and her speech itself is brighter and sharper, less measured. ]
Just some snacks. Save some peach rings for me.
[ Extremely critical driving fuel. No, she's really just saying that to tweak him, purposefully acting casual about it all even though she knows every single thing in that bag is likely new to him. They're for him, not her. Once Root is on a mission she can go, go, go without sleep or sustenance for quite a while, bolstered solely by her nerves and conviction.
And this is just part two of the mission. She's not at all off-duty. ]
Oh, he makes that face at me a lot.
[ Root looks over at Bossie to gauge his reactions to the conversation as they walk, and levels him that same easy smile. ]
We have a special kind of relationship. [ She appears absolutely serious about that, not at all joking. ]
[ Root looks over at Bossie to gauge his reactions to the conversation as they walk, and levels him that same easy smile. ]
We have a special kind of relationship. [ She appears absolutely serious about that, not at all joking. ]
[ Root laughs both at the bad joke and at the idea that she'd be moving in somewhere with the Machine. One of the things she does best for her is be ready to go anywhere on Earth at a moment's notice, and she knows it -- takes pride in it, what she can do for her as her analog interface. ]
I really haven't gone domesticated, I swear.
[ But she is certainly trying for Clea. Root spends most of her life acting a part of some kind, and she doesn't mean that in a self-pitying way. She arranged things like that; she'd sought it out, because she's good at it. She just doesn't get to often turn that skill to coaxing reactions out of someone she likes on a personal level.
It's gratifying to do. It feels... sweet, when she is rarely sweet. ]
I don't hate myself, [ Root clarifies, voice easy, not trying to prove a point. Just explaining. ] I'm fine with being who I am. But there's not too many other people that feel the same way. [ She's a tough pill to swallow and she knows it, has always found herself lonely, always found other people eminently disappointing time and time again. ]
I got out of the killer for hire business. She wants me to help people, and I guess I am. That's what I'm doing now. Kind of crazy, right?
I really haven't gone domesticated, I swear.
[ But she is certainly trying for Clea. Root spends most of her life acting a part of some kind, and she doesn't mean that in a self-pitying way. She arranged things like that; she'd sought it out, because she's good at it. She just doesn't get to often turn that skill to coaxing reactions out of someone she likes on a personal level.
It's gratifying to do. It feels... sweet, when she is rarely sweet. ]
I don't hate myself, [ Root clarifies, voice easy, not trying to prove a point. Just explaining. ] I'm fine with being who I am. But there's not too many other people that feel the same way. [ She's a tough pill to swallow and she knows it, has always found herself lonely, always found other people eminently disappointing time and time again. ]
I got out of the killer for hire business. She wants me to help people, and I guess I am. That's what I'm doing now. Kind of crazy, right?
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