[ 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. ]
[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.]
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. ]
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no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]