I'll be there, with cool trendy thing I can describe for you 😘
[ Root has an easier time acting cavalier over text; in person she's a bit strung out, morose, still recovering from her weeks of nonstop head-down focus on saving them as well as the A.I. But she's kept herself busy, hasn't just been moping. She's sitting at an outdoor wrought-iron bistro table with a lab jacket and fake glasses thrown onto a spare chair, and she has one leg crossed over the other in a sprightly, fall-patterned sweater dress as she slurps a boba.
When she realizes the person approaching is Charles, she sets down her drink and a true smile breaks over her tired face. Root in person is intense, and she already likes Charles, which means all of her considerable focus is centered precisely on him. ]
Gonna have to give you a failing grade on being a spooky Halloween ghost. Total letdown.
[ if anything, though, her focus only seems to make him grin at her brighter — and instead of waving at her or something like that, what he does is simply walk up to her and give her a tight hug in greeting.
as he pulls back, with a raise of his brows, ]
Right, sorry to disappoint. I could try and emulate a vengeful ghost, if you want?
[ or he could just do this: let his body turn blue and translucent as he walks right through her, before turning back corporeal and distinctly alive-looking behind her chair as he leans down and says, right near her ear, ] Boo.
[ through all this, his eyes are sparkling with amusement; it's clear he's just trying his best to play along and make her smile. ]
[ Being so close to her right ear, Charles might notice that Root has a cochlear implant, the transmitter more subtle than most but still tucked up in her hair behind the shell of her ear.
Even sad and tired and disappointed, Root is a vivacious personality. She's a good hugger, returns the gesture firmly and without hesitation, and she smiles easily and widely at Charles's transparent attempts to return her humor. ]
Nope, not scared of you at all. In fact, I might even use the word adorable.
[ He looks like he's about to ask someone out to prom. It's so cute. Root normally doesn't care about kids or teenagers in particular, but once she's fond of someone she goes all in, and everything becomes endearing. ]
[ the implant doesn't escape his notice, and he makes a mental note of it — something to perhaps ask her later, that. now, though, he just hugs her and then laughs as he directs a wide, bright smile at her, one that's both amused and affectionate. ]
Well, excuse me if I'm taking that as a compliment.
[ someone else might protest the wording — but no, fuck yeah he's adorable and he knows how to use his charm to his advantage, too. ]
You should, [ she says cheekily. ] It's good to see you, too. I don't say this lightly, but it's nice to get away from a screen for a while.
[ Root's a consummate computer nerd but she's also someone who typically spends her days in high-octane shoot outs in between her stints behind a keyboard. She's been really missing the other half of that equation lately. Being idle is not helping her mental state, so she's trying to stay busy. Meeting up with Charles helps with that. ]
Right, kids nowadays, yeah? Glued to their screens.
[ somehow, he manages to say this with an entirely straight face, clicking his tongue disapprovingly to punctuate the point, before he finally dissolves into snickers over his own silly joke.
the look he aims at her then is bright and yet somehow considering — like he's about to ask her whether she's really doing alright... but instead, he nods towards the cup she's abandoned on the table. ]
So, that any good? What do the little nuggets there even do?
Tapioca. They're like little chewy yogurt pearls. It's a dessert drink -- they all are, but this one's green tea and strawberry. You can have jelly in them, too.
[ Root picks up her boba and takes an ostentatious slurp through the over-large straw. She's fine, obviously, totally fine. ]
... You don't really have to listen to me talk about my boss, you know. We can just talk about boba.
[ She's still kind of weirded out he'd offered at all. Normally the Machine is a high tier secret, so secret people are regularly killed to keep it that way, and more to the point she knows she's a hard pill to swallow and almost no one willingly solicits her thoughts from her. ]
... huh. That doesn't sound too bad. [ with a slight smile, ] If I ever turn human again here, I know what to try.
[ but then that smile softens into something more quiet, understanding — because he may not know all the details... but he can see she is trying to give him an out. and so, with a shake of his head, ]
I know I don't have to. I'd like to, though, if that's okay. I meant what I said.
[ Root's curious about how and when that happened, and what it was like for him, but she's a skilled conversationalist and she wouldn't make so obvious a left turn away from her own topic. Something for later. ]
It's okay with me, [ she assures him. She sets her boba down on the table, gazing down as if lost in thought. ] It's just-- well, normally I don't get to talk about her much, except with the person who made her. And he has his own feelings about her.
[ Root and Harold do not see eye to eye on the Machine, suffice to say. Root is slightly off the deep end about the Machine and about him. ]
She doesn't really talk to anyone except me, either. Not really. We have a special relationship.
[ his small smile remains as she gathers her thoughts — he did mean it all, he is here to listen to her, as much or as little as she wants to share. ]
Oh? She only talks to you? How'd that come about, then?
[ a special relationship... it's obvious from her voice how much she means to her, and charles pulls a chair for himself, careful to avoid the iron of the table. ]
[ She notices him avoiding the table -- she's a damn good assassin even if she's not assassinating anyone these days -- and files that away for later.
That's such a big question, she huffs out a breath, amused and a little overwhelmed as she thinks back on it. ] Short version? I saw her code and decided I was going to dedicate the rest of my life to her.
Most people don't know she exists, so she's limited in what she can do. I'm her interface with the world. Whatever she wants me to do, I do. I trust her. And she trusts me.
[ Root has an almost religious tone to her voice, a sense of awe and responsibility to live up to what her god sees in her. But there's a personal, aching fondness there, too, like a zealot who's been visited by Jesus and felt divinely loved. She would do anything for her. Anything. ]
Oh, [ says charles, again, though this time it is less of a question and more of a hum, a quiet sound of understanding. ]
So you're sorta like her prophet, then?
[ yes, speaking in religious terms, here — not least because the respect and awe drips from her every word, but also because this is easier for him to conceptualise than interface; computer terminology has never been his strong suit. though he adds then, after a moment, ] Or an agent? Like, she's M and you're Bond.
[ The religious allegory isn't perfect -- Root is actually a staunch atheist, and even a little bit of an anarchist to boot -- but she uses it herself because it's the most direct translation of what the Machine means to her, and the kind of power and reach that the Machine has, as well as her benevolence. ]
She was programmed to prevent as much loss of human life as possible. She sees everything, but she has limited methods for communication. [ Something Root is still very frustrated with Harold about. Maybe one day... ]
I'm her way of directly interacting with the world. She tells me where to be and when, and we try to save people.
[ Root just has the fervent commitment of a religious convert, and she uses the word god herself sometimes, so she won't deny it makes some sense.
She looks down at her drink momentarily and then back up again, smiling wryly, self-aware. She can't accept that avid appreciation. ]
Don't give me too much credit. I hurt a lot of people before I found her. I basically gave up on humanity. [ She knows she's said as much to Charles before, if in different words, so this comes out easily, frankly, with some complicated frustration and regret and shamelessness attached to it. ]
I'll do what I can from now on, but it's not like my past goes away. I'm not trying to erase it.
Well, [ he says after a moment — for once, not jumping straight into reassurances or trying to counter her words, but instead giving them some thought, treating them seriously like she does, ]
It's not like anyone's past can be erased, can it? That's the point of having a past, innit, we have to live with whatever choices we've made. The good and the bad. The only thing we can affect is what we choose to do going forward. That's the part that really matters. So yeah, maybe the past you hurt people, and gave up on people... but the you that you are now is something different. Better. Not despite of your past, but because of it, yeah?
[ he aims a small smile at her, then; that she regrets what happened is a good thing, because it means she's different now. ]
[ She appreciates him not jumping to reassure her more than she could say. Root doesn't need validation or approval, but understanding is something she's been sorely lacking in her life. Understanding and maybe, at the barest edge of possibility, acceptance. ]
There's things I can do that other people can't, [ Root says factually. She's clear-eyed, seeing a path forward with the Machine's guidance that speaks to her. ] I don't mean literally, that they aren't capable of it. I mean I can do it -- or go through it -- and keep going. Some people, some bad people, they only understand their native language.
[ Sometimes the only thing the bad guys respect is someone who is willing to meet them at their level. Either get on that level or accept the consequences of your morals, in Root's opinion. It's an argument she has regularly with Harold. ]
I know that's a slippery slope. That's why-- usually, I'd have her to pull me back.
[ Root presses her lips together in suppressed frustration. Her confidence evaporates without the Machine's voice right in her ear, telling her where the line is. It's so unfair to have found her and then be without her... ]
[ he knows that he doesn't — well, he doesn't look like someone who can get particularly violent, and he doesn't like it, because it reminds him all too much of his father, of the metaphorical blood in his veins... but that doesn't mean he doesn't fight. that doesn't mean he hasn't met those who'd try to harm him and edwin blow for blow, before.
but once you start on that road, when do you stop? and so he has refused it, time and time again, because he won't be like his father. ]
... And now you don't have her, here. Well — it's not the same, but if I see you slipping, I promise to let you know.
[ That's sort of what she means, too, that she can do those things and it doesn't affect her. Root feels things -- sometimes she feels too much -- but violence itself doesn't touch her. She doesn't lose herself in it and she never goes farther than she means to. Sometimes she just means to go pretty damn far. ]
Yeah. She just-- she saw something in me. I want to live up to that. [ Root suddenly struggles to explain, trying to articulate for the first time ever her complex perspective on the Machine and on her own morality. It's tough to explain a pseudo-religion you've made up for yourself with no formal rules. ]
I've been trying to guess at what she'd want me to do. [ Root traces the edge of the lid on her drink with one finger. ] I knew she'd want me to follow whatever path saved the most people in the reset, so that's what I did. Even if it meant the old A.I. might be lost forever. She would care about us more.
[ So although Root is a diehard A.I. superfan, her own A.I. wouldn't let her prioritize one over human life. Fortunately not a conflict Root has had to address about the Machine directly just yet... because choosing between the Machine and a person's life, including her own, Root would almost certainly choose the Machine. And she knows the Machine wouldn't. ]
I get that, too. [ wanting to live up to someone else's expectation of you, out of love — yeah, he definitely gets that. ]
... She really does sound pretty aces. [ caring about humanity, wanting root to save as many people as she can... yeah. but then, that's the thing about love, isn't it; that you might value one person, or in root's case one ai, over a number of others. ]
Reckon that she'd be pretty pleased with what you've done, so far. Maybe, once someone figures out how to return us all home, you can tell her about it all.
[ Root glances up and gives Charles a sincere smile. It's not as effervescent as her usual cocky devil-may-care daring attitude; it's more reserved, private. How Root is when she's genuinely appreciative. ]
Thanks-- for caring about her. For trusting what I'm saying. But I don't think I'll ever see her again, or ever hear her voice.
[ She wants to sound calm and accepting, has come to this conclusion logically so many times that it's undeniable. But she can't. Her smile twists into a grimace and she laughs a little, hollowly, hand coming up to trace the edges of the implant behind her ear. ]
We're copies. It's what makes the most sense. We're digital beings and the consciousness I am here is not ever going to experience home again, not really. [ If they lose their memories when they go back, it's not them; and it implies that they're being updated. Of course the A.I. would think they could return if it was the explicit end state it was seeking for rehabilitation, and Root clung to that for a while, but...
It doesn't make sense. And she's always been a rational person, even hyper-rational. ]
But if I'm only good when she's around, what good am I really?
Course. [ he doesn't say that he would trust her with anything, about anything — foolish, perhaps, in the light of what he knows of her, or perhaps not. he thinks he can trust her to tell him the truth, to trust that she trusts him enough to tell him the truth.
with a soft look of concern, he reaches out his hand, rests it on her arm. ]
Hey, [ he says, meaning nothing and everything at once, trying to offer quiet comfort, even as the words she's saying shake him, too — it's not that he's never thought of that, them being copies... but it's what it means that hits him a little too hard, and so he chooses to just. not think about it at all, beyond the way something in his eyes flashes and shutters away.
he'll focus on her; that's what's important. ]
Hey. You're not only good when she's around. Maybe she made you better — but you're you. You're who you are because of her, and you're gonna continue to be you, to do the best you can, and that's — well, that's enough, innit? Being good isn't conditional. Being worth something's not something you need to earn. You're worth a whole lot, yeah? Just as you are.
[ Root latches on quickly and absolutely to people when she does, rare though it is. She's used and manipulated people for so many years for her own ends, mostly for money, for the fun of it, and she can read people as straightforwardly as she can read SQL. Which means she trusts her own judgment absolutely. When she finds someone she likes and respects, she doesn't let go.
Charles became that very quickly for her with his empathetic words and understanding shortly after her arrival, and Root won't forget it. She knows her shortcomings and she knows her strengths: she can treat people like pawns and she can treat them like kings. It's only lately she's tried to find somewhere in the middle.
But knowing herself means she's sure of is who she is, and where she's going. She doesn't really need the reassurance. ]
I don't need you to tell me I'm worth something, [ she says with complete honesty, but she softens the blow by covering his hand on her arm with her own. Root has slender hands with soft callouses from holding guns. ] Either we all matter or nothing matters, and I think we all matter. I matter. You matter.
Whether we're code on a server somewhere, or cast off in a transdimensional void rationalizing our experience, or dead in the strangest form of purgatory, what we do is important. She taught me that.
I'm not going to give up. But what we have here and now is going to have to be enough.
[ he doesn't take it badly — why would he, truly? it's a good thing, her seeing her own worth and being able to acknowledge it so quickly, too; he's dealt with so many people who haven't that he's just glad. ]
... Yeah. Yeah, we do. And it is. [ he gives her a soft smile, then. ] Maybe it's not ideal, this — maybe those we've learned to rely on aren't here, and we can be a bit lost because of that, but... well. We've got each other, yeah? And that's not nothing.
[ said with his usual sincerity, of course. and perhaps then they can move onto nicer, lighter topics, like her boba tea and maybe some gossip or whatnot... but charles turns his hand a little, to grab her hand and give it a squeeze, a wordless thank you that she is here, with him. ]
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[ Root has an easier time acting cavalier over text; in person she's a bit strung out, morose, still recovering from her weeks of nonstop head-down focus on saving them as well as the A.I. But she's kept herself busy, hasn't just been moping. She's sitting at an outdoor wrought-iron bistro table with a lab jacket and fake glasses thrown onto a spare chair, and she has one leg crossed over the other in a sprightly, fall-patterned sweater dress as she slurps a boba.
When she realizes the person approaching is Charles, she sets down her drink and a true smile breaks over her tired face. Root in person is intense, and she already likes Charles, which means all of her considerable focus is centered precisely on him. ]
Gonna have to give you a failing grade on being a spooky Halloween ghost. Total letdown.
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as he pulls back, with a raise of his brows, ]
Right, sorry to disappoint. I could try and emulate a vengeful ghost, if you want?
[ or he could just do this: let his body turn blue and translucent as he walks right through her, before turning back corporeal and distinctly alive-looking behind her chair as he leans down and says, right near her ear, ] Boo.
[ through all this, his eyes are sparkling with amusement; it's clear he's just trying his best to play along and make her smile. ]
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Even sad and tired and disappointed, Root is a vivacious personality. She's a good hugger, returns the gesture firmly and without hesitation, and she smiles easily and widely at Charles's transparent attempts to return her humor. ]
Nope, not scared of you at all. In fact, I might even use the word adorable.
[ He looks like he's about to ask someone out to prom. It's so cute. Root normally doesn't care about kids or teenagers in particular, but once she's fond of someone she goes all in, and everything becomes endearing. ]
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Well, excuse me if I'm taking that as a compliment.
[ someone else might protest the wording — but no, fuck yeah he's adorable and he knows how to use his charm to his advantage, too. ]
But seriously, it's good to see you.
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[ Root's a consummate computer nerd but she's also someone who typically spends her days in high-octane shoot outs in between her stints behind a keyboard. She's been really missing the other half of that equation lately. Being idle is not helping her mental state, so she's trying to stay busy. Meeting up with Charles helps with that. ]
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[ somehow, he manages to say this with an entirely straight face, clicking his tongue disapprovingly to punctuate the point, before he finally dissolves into snickers over his own silly joke.
the look he aims at her then is bright and yet somehow considering — like he's about to ask her whether she's really doing alright... but instead, he nods towards the cup she's abandoned on the table. ]
So, that any good? What do the little nuggets there even do?
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[ Root picks up her boba and takes an ostentatious slurp through the over-large straw. She's fine, obviously, totally fine. ]
... You don't really have to listen to me talk about my boss, you know. We can just talk about boba.
[ She's still kind of weirded out he'd offered at all. Normally the Machine is a high tier secret, so secret people are regularly killed to keep it that way, and more to the point she knows she's a hard pill to swallow and almost no one willingly solicits her thoughts from her. ]
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[ but then that smile softens into something more quiet, understanding — because he may not know all the details... but he can see she is trying to give him an out. and so, with a shake of his head, ]
I know I don't have to. I'd like to, though, if that's okay. I meant what I said.
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It's okay with me, [ she assures him. She sets her boba down on the table, gazing down as if lost in thought. ] It's just-- well, normally I don't get to talk about her much, except with the person who made her. And he has his own feelings about her.
[ Root and Harold do not see eye to eye on the Machine, suffice to say. Root is slightly off the deep end about the Machine and about him. ]
She doesn't really talk to anyone except me, either. Not really. We have a special relationship.
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Oh? She only talks to you? How'd that come about, then?
[ a special relationship... it's obvious from her voice how much she means to her, and charles pulls a chair for himself, careful to avoid the iron of the table. ]
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That's such a big question, she huffs out a breath, amused and a little overwhelmed as she thinks back on it. ] Short version? I saw her code and decided I was going to dedicate the rest of my life to her.
Most people don't know she exists, so she's limited in what she can do. I'm her interface with the world. Whatever she wants me to do, I do. I trust her. And she trusts me.
[ Root has an almost religious tone to her voice, a sense of awe and responsibility to live up to what her god sees in her. But there's a personal, aching fondness there, too, like a zealot who's been visited by Jesus and felt divinely loved. She would do anything for her. Anything. ]
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So you're sorta like her prophet, then?
[ yes, speaking in religious terms, here — not least because the respect and awe drips from her every word, but also because this is easier for him to conceptualise than interface; computer terminology has never been his strong suit. though he adds then, after a moment, ] Or an agent? Like, she's M and you're Bond.
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[ The religious allegory isn't perfect -- Root is actually a staunch atheist, and even a little bit of an anarchist to boot -- but she uses it herself because it's the most direct translation of what the Machine means to her, and the kind of power and reach that the Machine has, as well as her benevolence. ]
She was programmed to prevent as much loss of human life as possible. She sees everything, but she has limited methods for communication. [ Something Root is still very frustrated with Harold about. Maybe one day... ]
I'm her way of directly interacting with the world. She tells me where to be and when, and we try to save people.
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Hey, [ he says, then, appreciation bright in his eyes, ] That sounds right brills. You help her help people. That's pretty good of you, Root.
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She looks down at her drink momentarily and then back up again, smiling wryly, self-aware. She can't accept that avid appreciation. ]
Don't give me too much credit. I hurt a lot of people before I found her. I basically gave up on humanity. [ She knows she's said as much to Charles before, if in different words, so this comes out easily, frankly, with some complicated frustration and regret and shamelessness attached to it. ]
I'll do what I can from now on, but it's not like my past goes away. I'm not trying to erase it.
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It's not like anyone's past can be erased, can it? That's the point of having a past, innit, we have to live with whatever choices we've made. The good and the bad. The only thing we can affect is what we choose to do going forward. That's the part that really matters. So yeah, maybe the past you hurt people, and gave up on people... but the you that you are now is something different. Better. Not despite of your past, but because of it, yeah?
[ he aims a small smile at her, then; that she regrets what happened is a good thing, because it means she's different now. ]
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There's things I can do that other people can't, [ Root says factually. She's clear-eyed, seeing a path forward with the Machine's guidance that speaks to her. ] I don't mean literally, that they aren't capable of it. I mean I can do it -- or go through it -- and keep going. Some people, some bad people, they only understand their native language.
[ Sometimes the only thing the bad guys respect is someone who is willing to meet them at their level. Either get on that level or accept the consequences of your morals, in Root's opinion. It's an argument she has regularly with Harold. ]
I know that's a slippery slope. That's why-- usually, I'd have her to pull me back.
[ Root presses her lips together in suppressed frustration. Her confidence evaporates without the Machine's voice right in her ear, telling her where the line is. It's so unfair to have found her and then be without her... ]
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[ he knows that he doesn't — well, he doesn't look like someone who can get particularly violent, and he doesn't like it, because it reminds him all too much of his father, of the metaphorical blood in his veins... but that doesn't mean he doesn't fight. that doesn't mean he hasn't met those who'd try to harm him and edwin blow for blow, before.
but once you start on that road, when do you stop? and so he has refused it, time and time again, because he won't be like his father. ]
... And now you don't have her, here. Well — it's not the same, but if I see you slipping, I promise to let you know.
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Yeah. She just-- she saw something in me. I want to live up to that. [ Root suddenly struggles to explain, trying to articulate for the first time ever her complex perspective on the Machine and on her own morality. It's tough to explain a pseudo-religion you've made up for yourself with no formal rules. ]
I've been trying to guess at what she'd want me to do. [ Root traces the edge of the lid on her drink with one finger. ] I knew she'd want me to follow whatever path saved the most people in the reset, so that's what I did. Even if it meant the old A.I. might be lost forever. She would care about us more.
[ So although Root is a diehard A.I. superfan, her own A.I. wouldn't let her prioritize one over human life. Fortunately not a conflict Root has had to address about the Machine directly just yet... because choosing between the Machine and a person's life, including her own, Root would almost certainly choose the Machine. And she knows the Machine wouldn't. ]
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... She really does sound pretty aces. [ caring about humanity, wanting root to save as many people as she can... yeah. but then, that's the thing about love, isn't it; that you might value one person, or in root's case one ai, over a number of others. ]
Reckon that she'd be pretty pleased with what you've done, so far. Maybe, once someone figures out how to return us all home, you can tell her about it all.
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Thanks-- for caring about her. For trusting what I'm saying. But I don't think I'll ever see her again, or ever hear her voice.
[ She wants to sound calm and accepting, has come to this conclusion logically so many times that it's undeniable. But she can't. Her smile twists into a grimace and she laughs a little, hollowly, hand coming up to trace the edges of the implant behind her ear. ]
We're copies. It's what makes the most sense. We're digital beings and the consciousness I am here is not ever going to experience home again, not really. [ If they lose their memories when they go back, it's not them; and it implies that they're being updated. Of course the A.I. would think they could return if it was the explicit end state it was seeking for rehabilitation, and Root clung to that for a while, but...
It doesn't make sense. And she's always been a rational person, even hyper-rational. ]
But if I'm only good when she's around, what good am I really?
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with a soft look of concern, he reaches out his hand, rests it on her arm. ]
Hey, [ he says, meaning nothing and everything at once, trying to offer quiet comfort, even as the words she's saying shake him, too — it's not that he's never thought of that, them being copies... but it's what it means that hits him a little too hard, and so he chooses to just. not think about it at all, beyond the way something in his eyes flashes and shutters away.
he'll focus on her; that's what's important. ]
Hey. You're not only good when she's around. Maybe she made you better — but you're you. You're who you are because of her, and you're gonna continue to be you, to do the best you can, and that's — well, that's enough, innit? Being good isn't conditional. Being worth something's not something you need to earn. You're worth a whole lot, yeah? Just as you are.
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Charles became that very quickly for her with his empathetic words and understanding shortly after her arrival, and Root won't forget it. She knows her shortcomings and she knows her strengths: she can treat people like pawns and she can treat them like kings. It's only lately she's tried to find somewhere in the middle.
But knowing herself means she's sure of is who she is, and where she's going. She doesn't really need the reassurance. ]
I don't need you to tell me I'm worth something, [ she says with complete honesty, but she softens the blow by covering his hand on her arm with her own. Root has slender hands with soft callouses from holding guns. ] Either we all matter or nothing matters, and I think we all matter. I matter. You matter.
Whether we're code on a server somewhere, or cast off in a transdimensional void rationalizing our experience, or dead in the strangest form of purgatory, what we do is important. She taught me that.
I'm not going to give up. But what we have here and now is going to have to be enough.
🎀
... Yeah. Yeah, we do. And it is. [ he gives her a soft smile, then. ] Maybe it's not ideal, this — maybe those we've learned to rely on aren't here, and we can be a bit lost because of that, but... well. We've got each other, yeah? And that's not nothing.
[ said with his usual sincerity, of course. and perhaps then they can move onto nicer, lighter topics, like her boba tea and maybe some gossip or whatnot... but charles turns his hand a little, to grab her hand and give it a squeeze, a wordless thank you that she is here, with him. ]