. .. IC Contact | Duplicity .. .

[konstant]

                                                                 

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[konstant]

K watches her get up, at first concerned that he said something, but she hasn't changed significantly that he can tell. She doesn't collect more of her things to leave, so he relaxes again.

And shakes his head.

"You never said international," just so they're clear. But more importantly: "I rarely left Los Angeles, let alone California. Never what used to be the United States. What was it like?"

[thecanarylives]

It's a push and pull between them - tension and release, still learning the triggers, the things that set them both off, cause them to withdraw or open up at the drop of a hat.

She doesn't go far, at least, reclaiming her spot next to him at the edge of the bed, shifting a little further towards the middle to try and get comfortable.

"Oh. I guess I don't like to talk about it much." It's the understatement of the century, but he's seen it first hand now. Not much use in hiding it. "It's beautiful. Colorful, bright. Really busy, but that's true of any major city. It's right on the peninsula, so there's water all around." She leans back on both her hands. "Where have you been, besides LA? You ever go up north?"

[konstant]

The look he gives her is empathetic; he understands and he doesn't want to push, not when it doesn't matter right now so much as it's new information.

He tries to imagine what she's telling him and smiles faintly, an expression that vanishes when he thinks of California.

"For cases. There are protein farms a few hours flight outside the biome, but not much else. People can't live outside the megapolises anymore so it's a popular place for rogue replicants to hide."

[thecanarylives]

That's how easy the push and pull is. A smile one moment, a flicker of darkness another. But that's the nature of who they are, it seems. Shrouded in that darkness and trying, stubbornly to find the light. Even if neither of them believe they deserve it.

Her brow furrows, trying to imagine it. "I grew up there. Starling City, up near San Francisco. Least that land is good for something, I guess."

[konstant]

Right now he especially doesn't believe in his own worth. Caught between lacking purpose and the accusations pressed into his mind by the nightmare, he doesn't believe he deserves much of anything good.

But he can talk with hera while anyway. She came all this way.

"San Francisco is gone. The ocean swallowed up most of it and the rest burned up under the sun. Los Angeles covers the southern half of the state and nearly pushed into Nevada. It's one of six megapolises left on the planet, each built around a space port."

[thecanarylives]

It's been years since Sara's felt like she's deserved anything good. She doesn't need a nightmare to reinforce that much. Their doppelgangers had just reminded her of what she already knew. That feeling amplified ten fold, targeting the people close to her to show her she couldn't even take care of them.

She's good at pushing it down, though. Burying it all, putting on a smile, cracking a joke as a cherry on top. She chews at the inside of her lip, frowning at the idea of a world where her home was just... gone.

"Is there anything good about where you're from? Because honestly, everything you've ever told me about it sounds horrible."

[konstant]

He would never argue that his planet is... good. It's literally a dead world, the corpse of the earth that once supported life now drifting in space while its inhabitants fight to get free of it like fleas. It's actively killing those that are left, and will take billions with it in the end. Takes millions every day.

But it's still home. It's still his city, they're still his people. He presses his lips together and resists the urge to shrug.

"You're from a better planet. I'm not surprised."

[thecanarylives]

She glances over at him, studying him quietly a moment.

"What were the things that made you happy? Back home?" Joi, likely. She's seen the way he changed around her. The ease in his demeanor.

[konstant]

And indeed he thinks immediately of Joi, of her simple pleasure to see him at the end of the day or whenever he turned up, her worry over his moods, the way she fussed when he was hurt or stuck on a case.

He talked over so many cases with her. Perhaps that was his secret after all.

"Joi," he says, delicately, a bit hollow. He remembers her, too, blinking out of thin air forever. "Flying my cruiser. Working concert security. The holo clubs, and patrol reports, the ones I could do anything about."

[thecanarylives]

She's glad he had someone, at least. To get him through it. Even if she was assigned, like some kind of holographic emotional support to keep him company.

She watches him closely, the way his features change when he thinks about her. "Patrol reports made you happy?" she says it with a playful tease.

[konstant]

K pushes back on the bed until he can press his shoulders into the wall, lean his head back a bit to try and give his aching neck a rest.

"Patrol reports are easier than blade running, and I wasn't burned out like the regular street officers. I could help people sometimes. Missing persons, property damage, safety concerns. They liked it. So did I."

[thecanarylives]

She studies him in the dim light, the way the shadows dance across his profile, the tension in his shoulders that unwinds just a fraction at a time.

Smiling a little, she glances down at her hands again.

"You're a good person, K. You should know that."