[ Keeping the hospital patient theme, Root is dressed in her psychiatric inpatient finest, a loose grey cardigan over grey clothes, except her slippers are the fuzzy pink ones she'd asked Harold for when she lived in the station. She's seated on the floor, curled up into the far corner where the server racks are, cooling cables draped around her like she'd like to be plugged in herself.

She's either asleep or dead, and either way it's disconcerting. Root carries an immense presence and force of personality with her -- she tends to steal the air from the whole room -- and right now she's absolutely vacant, eyes closed, face slack against a blinking server.

As Shaw approaches, Root's voice speaks directly into her ear, calm and level. ]

Do you want to hear it again? I understand. I loved her, too.

I can say it in her intonation if you'd like, but I thought that might come across as disrespectful.