Thanks, [ he says, and it's a quiet thing, far from being dismissive — as overwhelming as the knowledge that root does in fact mean it all is, well. it warms him, too, the kind of care that would extend to everything she's offering in the implications.

but then she continues, and charles feels a hollowness inside his chest; shaw has died a lot, too, she says, and test the system, and suddenly the entire picture rearranges itself in his head to something completely different — and heartbreaking. ]

... Fuck, [ he says after a moment. ] Then, this — god, this has got to be hell for her, innit? [ he takes a breath he absolutely does not need except in a subconscious way, a reflex more than anything. when he speaks again, it's with a quiet tone far more mature than what he looks like, understanding and sympathy mingled in his voice, ]

I wish you didn't have to do that in the first place... but I get it. To show her it's not the same, yeah? [ a pause. ] When someone you love's been through — Hell, it's... you'd do anything, wouldn't you? Anything. [ anything. he thinks of the door to hell, of the staircase, of going down there with a map in a notebook and a promise of if i get us out we'll both come to be judged by the lost and found department, and if we both get stuck down there, well, you'll know where we are. to say he gets it is an understatement. ]