"Please, I just didn't want to listen to you whine about it." There's the Wash method of consuming beverages with a helmet on, but there are no bendy straws here, and tilting her head back to pour the drink down the front vents would be dramatic and messy. So Tex just stands with the open drink, not drinking it.
"I'll get to it." He's made to resemble the Director in some ways, it seems, and she knows she was made to resemble Allison herself. She doesn't want to know how he'll react to seeing her that way—she dreads it, to be honest. She's starting to think less and less that this was a good idea.
"You do that and I'll throw it in your face." She sighs, though, and puts her own drink down so she can start undoing the catches on her helmet. It's been a long time since she's pulled her helmet off. She hasn't done it since she realized what she is. Not that she did it all that often before. She's always felt comfortable living in her armor, helmet and all. Finally, she pulls it off and away and sets it aside.
"Watch your mouth or I'll cover it back up," she says. She takes his can from him and takes a sip. It's warm, sure, but not that bad. "What do you know, I survived," she says, handing it back to him. "You're being picky."
"No, I have standards," he counters, rolling his eyes and taking the can back. "We're a high-tech military base and you're telling me there's no refrigerators? Fucking bullshit."
"Maybe they had better places for their money to go," she says. She picks her juice up and drinks half of the can at a draft before setting it down again. "Or maybe they're just waiting for you to requisition one, did you ever think of that?"
"What, now it's my responsibility to make sure this stupid base has a fridge?" He scoffs and takes another sip, making a face. "Fuck that, I'll just go shove my drinks into the snow."
She can't tell him the truth. Soon she will—when she escapes with him, she'll tell him. She'll break it to him somehow, who he is and what they've done to him. But for now, that's not going to be possible. She has to lie to him.
She hates this.
She looks at the expression on his face—bewildered, unhappy, and maybe even a little distressed. She knows he can see her face too, see the synthetic face of the robot expressing her frustration in this situation. Yet, Tex is never hopeless. She has to nudge him, give him something to concentrate on until the next time.
"Your commander was afraid to leave you alone with a Freelancer, even if it was supposed to be a social visit. Take it up with him." Whether his reference to the Director earlier meant he still remembered more than he was letting on at this moment, or whether those recollections were malleable, she didn't know. She just knew she had to stick to her script for now. "Tell you what—I'll let you know the next time I'm due for a visit, and you talk him into letting us meet somewhere else." The fact that they're being spied on goes without saying—the one-way glass window isn't far from where he stands. He has to have noticed it by now.
He noticed, he just ... hadn't processed what it meant. He looks around the room again, really taking it in, and when his gaze finally settles on Tex, he frowns a little deeper.
He doesn't say anything for a minute and just narrows his eyes, confused. It doesn't feel right. But it's Tex and he - he trusts her.
"So now I gotta take responsibility for everything? Nothin' new there, huh?" He asks, mostly teasing, trying to slip back into the easy banter. Something normal. "Why don't you talk him into it? Y'know, since you're so desperate to see me." Nice projecting there, Church.
Another shift in attitude. She is a bit slow to react, realizing this is how it is. He takes cue, and rolls with it, but there's still something there nagging at him. There's still something there that tells him this isn't right.
But she smirks, a bit relieved that what she did worked. "What, you can't convince him you don't need protection from me?" she says, taking his cue and teasing back.
She went with it - good. Keeps him from having to think too hard. Shit gives him a headache.
"Nope," Church says, popping the word. "I don't think anyone could convince ... anyone that you're not a dangerous bitch." He grins, one side pulling up a little higher. "No offense, Tex."
She rolls her eyes. "That's not how that works," she says.
There's a knocking from the other side of the glass and the soldier who had recently arrived goes over and picks up her helmet. Actually picks up her helmet! She frowns and snatches it from him. "I can handle this," she snaps. She glares at the window and puts her helmet on, sealing it one catch at a time.
Church watches the exchange, his face twisted into a frown. There's something really off going on here. He feels like he's a third wheel, almost — that there's something he's not part of.
"So ... you gonna explain any of this to me?" He eventually asks, breaking the air of "don't think too hard" and "pretend it's all right and joke around." He can accept that they (who is "they," exactly?) didn't want him alone with her, but soldiers? A one way mirror? Something's not right.
Some day. Some day she will. Goddamn it. She just...can't right now. If she blurts out something Church will actually find useful that'll be the end of her being able to visit him. And he's under too much guard right now for her to be able to decide to make a break for it on this occasion. She needs to wait until the time is right.
"Just tow the line, Church," she says, slow and measured. She hates this. "It'll make sense later." Later, when she's able to get him away from the Director and the horrible things the man has done to him. She comes and stands directly in front of him. She seems to be preparing to say something else, but she turns her head a bit, glancing away, and then begins to walk away.
He catches her wrist and stares at her for a long, long moment. He trusts her, but God damn he doesn't want to be left like this. He's being left behind — again (again?) — and God fucking knows what's going to happen to him this time. But she's always known better, always been some sort of guiding light.
He lets go. "Okay." It's flat, small, and upset. He goes to grab his helmet and pulls it back on. "I'll see you around, Tex."
She lowers her arm when he lets go and watches him put on the helmet. She hates his tone of voice. "As soon as I can," she says. "I'll be back." That's a promise, and she says it firmly.
"Yeah, sure thing," he says, glancing around the room - almost avoiding her gaze.
"I uh - Yeah. I'll try not to get myself killed out here. Y'know without... you protecting me. Ha, it's a joke. Because you're..." He coughs. Way to make a sad situation into an awkward one. Whatever. Takes the sting off, anyway. "Yeah."
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"Fuckin' gross. Don't we have any refrigerators on base? Or can we just not afford that anymore?" He holds the can out towards her. "Here, try it."
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"Wow, you actually have a face under there?" Church asks, only half joking. "I almost forgot."
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"Time's not up until I say it's up," Tex says. The Director needs her for this and Church does too, in his own way.
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They've been bantering. It felt good, but. There had to be a reason why Tex came to the base - why they're in a lab, of all fucking places.
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She hates this.
She looks at the expression on his face—bewildered, unhappy, and maybe even a little distressed. She knows he can see her face too, see the synthetic face of the robot expressing her frustration in this situation. Yet, Tex is never hopeless. She has to nudge him, give him something to concentrate on until the next time.
"Your commander was afraid to leave you alone with a Freelancer, even if it was supposed to be a social visit. Take it up with him." Whether his reference to the Director earlier meant he still remembered more than he was letting on at this moment, or whether those recollections were malleable, she didn't know. She just knew she had to stick to her script for now. "Tell you what—I'll let you know the next time I'm due for a visit, and you talk him into letting us meet somewhere else." The fact that they're being spied on goes without saying—the one-way glass window isn't far from where he stands. He has to have noticed it by now.
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He doesn't say anything for a minute and just narrows his eyes, confused. It doesn't feel right. But it's Tex and he - he trusts her.
"So now I gotta take responsibility for everything? Nothin' new there, huh?" He asks, mostly teasing, trying to slip back into the easy banter. Something normal. "Why don't you talk him into it? Y'know, since you're so desperate to see me." Nice projecting there, Church.
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But she smirks, a bit relieved that what she did worked. "What, you can't convince him you don't need protection from me?" she says, taking his cue and teasing back.
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"Nope," Church says, popping the word. "I don't think anyone could convince ... anyone that you're not a dangerous bitch." He grins, one side pulling up a little higher. "No offense, Tex."
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There's a knocking from the other side of the glass and the soldier who had recently arrived goes over and picks up her helmet. Actually picks up her helmet! She frowns and snatches it from him. "I can handle this," she snaps. She glares at the window and puts her helmet on, sealing it one catch at a time.
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"So ... you gonna explain any of this to me?" He eventually asks, breaking the air of "don't think too hard" and "pretend it's all right and joke around." He can accept that they (who is "they," exactly?) didn't want him alone with her, but soldiers? A one way mirror? Something's not right.
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"Just tow the line, Church," she says, slow and measured. She hates this. "It'll make sense later." Later, when she's able to get him away from the Director and the horrible things the man has done to him. She comes and stands directly in front of him. She seems to be preparing to say something else, but she turns her head a bit, glancing away, and then begins to walk away.
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He lets go. "Okay." It's flat, small, and upset. He goes to grab his helmet and pulls it back on. "I'll see you around, Tex."
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"I uh - Yeah. I'll try not to get myself killed out here. Y'know without... you protecting me. Ha, it's a joke. Because you're..." He coughs. Way to make a sad situation into an awkward one. Whatever. Takes the sting off, anyway. "Yeah."
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