it’s lingered in the back of her head, since bhez ju. as if, maybe, if she thinks about it hard enough, long enough, it’ll make some sense to her. none of it makes any sense, and it was very nearly the undoing of their whole plan. she tells herself it’s that, that if she’s going to stay, if she’s going to work with them, she needs to know so that the next time, the next time things don’t go sideways. it’s definitely not concern for him, definitely not a need to know what’s going on with the people around her, the people she cares about ( however inexplicably ).
she’s mulled over the conversation ever since, but there’s been no chance, no opportunity. he’s in a foul mood now, and it’s a bad time for the conversation, but at least he’s a captive audience, at least for a few more days. the ship which carries four of them ( four, not five ) to ketterdam leaves him few enough excuses to escape, and she plops down on a crate across from him, senseless words about missing decent food upon her lips.
senseless, and irrelevant, nothing more than preamble to a conversation neither of them are looking forward to. ❛ do you want to — ❜ she begins, then realizes that, no, of course he won’t want to, and starting her question that way is the height of stupidity. she tries again, doing her best effort to sound determined. ❛ no, we need to talk about bhez ju. ❜ / @averrse.