. .. IC Contact | Duplicity .. .

[konstant]

                                                                 

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[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."