worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

"And the library. Apparently." He's not sure what else he should be suggesting here, though. By her own admission, she can't really help him with the "getting better" thing.

She's still the warden, though. So he asks, "What would you suggest."

"No idea. Like I said, I don't know you that well." And he doesn't exactly give off the impression of someone waiting - possibly even able - to talk about themselves. A rarity. Seeming thoroughly unperturbed by this, she caps it off with a shrug. "I'd say maybe practice choosing things, but I can't get much more in depth than that from this vantage point. Asking for stuff, maybe."

"That's what the wardrobe practice is for," he says, more subdued. "And probably the library." If he can work up to going into the wardrobe and bring something he actually wants out of it, maybe he can work up to the library.

Even if it's intimidating.

"If you ever want to know more," he offers, only a little reluctantly. "You can talk to Rogers. He knows."

Another nod.

The second portion leaves her looking contemplatively down into her mug, as if the rapidly-cooling tea will convey how to explain what she'd like to without being confusing or upsetting.

"If I were in a real pinch I would, I think, but I don't know if I'd want to consider it a failsafe," she tries, carefully. "There's a lot you can get from someone's own telling of things, but more than that, it's...this place is weird." Obviously. "And people who come here can be different, maybe in not obvious ways. I don't want to just get a whole scoop without earning it, and I wouldn't want to risk parts not lining up."

He is a different person, even if only minutely. He is his own person. No Xeroxes.

"So I might end up just bugging you about it now and then, if it's all the same."

That's pretty much the opposite of what Steve thinks, there-- he's the same, he's always going to be "Bucky" no matter how he actually is. But it's also closer to how the Asset himself feels about the situation. He simply can't think of himself as the same person Steve expects him to be. Like there's some kind of cosmic mistake.

So he's silent a moment, staring at his meal, chewing on it uncomfortably, before he says, "I don't remember most of it. So I can't tell you much."

"Then that's just stuff we won't know," she concludes. "We'll learn at the same pace, or we'll just focus on knowing you like you are now. I'm not too worried."

He is as he is, and it's plenty.

"And if there's anything you're ever wondering in return, ain't a one way street. Any questions, personal or not, still on call."

He gives her right ear a vaguely skeptical look. "I am not good at asking things," he says. He doesn't even know what he'd ask. What do people even talk about when they're not wardens or prisoners supposed to "get better"? What even happens in their lives?

"Not saying you have to. Saying if you were inclined, you can. That's it."

Little by way of demands here, Asset.

He has a couple more bites of his oatmeal, which is starting to get cold. Then he does come up with a question, so he asks, "What's your deal. The thing you're here to get." He knows Ellie's. Rogers thinks it's the motivator behind wardens in general. And whatever he does, it will or won't help a person get something they desperately want.

"Don't have one." Matter of fact, simple. The initial pick was just to get on board and quickly abandoned, and the deal proper goes to Randel. Undoubtedly, he needs it more. "The one I've got is for Randel's world once we iron it out, and I don't have many ideas going forward. I'll play it by ear, mostly."

... huh. His brows come together a little bit, a small show of confusion. "Then why are you here."

"I like it here." Perhaps not the whole of the picture in either direction, but it's truth. "Interesting people, interesting places, not a lot of places that could offer as much."

The confusion goes away, but it's not really replaced by understanding. It's just the polite neutral again, which doesn't really show whether he believes that or not. (He doesn't, really.)

But if she doesn't want to tell him the truth, then he's probably not going to be able to tease the truth out of her. Conversation is not his strong point. So he nods a little. "Even when the place changes you," is all he prods with. "You like that."

"I do, actually." Unpopular opinion, she knows. "They're all me, just different. It's kind of amazing getting to experience that. So many near-lifetimes without any time passing for me -- it's a great learning experience." Thrilling, refreshing.

"Not as into floods, but nowhere is perfect."

The metal arm reconfigures under his sleeve, and he looks further away from her, uncomfortable. He can't see it like that. He can't. And he can't even say clearly why.

"So there's nothing you want out of having an inmate." No motivation for her to try all that hard (though she did seem very happy when Randel did the... thing). No motivation for him to need to help her by getting better (which is probably more of a problem). The thought that someone might do this just to help people doesn't even occur to him.

"I like helping." Another easy answer. Another truth. "People end up here because they're worth the help and they can benefit from it, and I like knowing they can get out safe and sound. Kind of a natural consequence of the place, I guess, so I don't know if you'd count that as something I specifically want, but-- yeah, I like knowing people I care about will get some reprieve."

... that sounds so fake. Nobody does that. Even Rogers only helps him because he thins they're friends. He keeps his expression firmly locked down so he doesn't offend her, but-- yeah, he can't believe that any more than he could believe there's something to "learn" from having whole people shoved into his head.

"So you think everyone here can get better. Graduate." Even the ones who've been here for years and years, because he knows there's some like that.

"I don't know that I believe it's likely in every instance, the Admiral's probably fallible, but I think there's no reason not to believe that people end up here because they've got the potential for it, yeah."

No reason wasting everyone's time, obviously. She's certain enough.

"Nice to be a part of it, good to see people safe."

He can't think of anything to say to that. It still sounds impossible, like there has to be some other motive. So he's silent for a moment, then he says, "Okay."

And the subject change: "What do you need from me. Then." She's asked what he needs from her. There has to be something in return. Something she expects from him.

She shrugs.

"Don't attack anybody if you can help it, don't cause any unnecessary ruckus. If there's a problem I'd appreciate being told, and if whatever this month's thing is turns out to be hard on you I'd appreciate at least a chance at helping. Checking in once in awhile's good, but I won't breathe down your neck."

Checking in. He can do that. He might have to make a schedule. What counts as "once in a while"? Once a week? Twice? Hrm. "Should be a... flood. Right? Since it was a port before."

"Probably, yep." Right on the money. "Usually around mid-month, so you've got a week or so to breathe and then it's time to steel yourself. Hopefully won't be anything too intense."

And after a beat she adds, with less certainty, "You could stop in for Thanksgiving, too. Just a duck-in, anyway."

Since holidays clearly matter in some form.

Which then begs the question: "What's Thanksgiving?" He knows Christmas. He knows Halloween, now. Why is there a third holiday in as many months? That seems kind of excessive.

"You have friends or family over to eat, pretty much. It's not complicated, it's just to eat and be appreciative of what you've got."

Not demanding, little asked of him as a participant.

That sounds easy enough. He is quite fond of eating. "I'm not your friend or family, though," he hedges a little, just in case she made the invitation in error, then. "I don't have any friends." This is not stated with self-pity, just as a fact: by the definition he has of a friend, he doesn't have any. (Yet.)

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