“Yeah,” Temple replies, smiling nervously at her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
And the first time they met, they weren’t even in the real world. They were in memories, with North, and only North bothered to speak to him after. South didn’t seek to talk to him then and he didn’t try talking to her, even after speaking with North.
It had been almost as though they weren’t even in the same universe. And Temple supposes it could have stayed that way.
But now that he forgives her, forgives Freelancer, for all she and it have done, he doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants her to be an ally, maybe even a friend. He sees no reason for them to avoid each other, no reason for their paths not to cross.
And he wants her to know that. But telling her that isn’t quite as easy as he thought it would be, now that he’s actually talking to her.
Instead, things are just… awkward, he supposes. Because they barely know each other, and she just seems confused by his presence. But he guesses he’ll just have to power through that awkwardness somehow.
"I'll fuckin' say. Like... over six months, right?"
God, she's been here so long. Less time than Temple, obviously, but it won't be long now until she's been here longer than she was on the rig and that's... weird. That's really weird. She's also been here longer alone than she was here with North and that's also weird. Ugh, fuck the passage of time.
Mostly, she just... hadn't thought about Temple. There was the memories, and then a month or so of drama before North just vanished, and then everyone else from PFL but Wash all disappeared in quick succession, and then for the last month and a bit he's been comatose so... she just... forgot, really.
Had other things on her mind than some guy she didn't know. And now he's here. She definitely wonders what he wants, but doesn't go right to asking, either.
sorry for the long wait! (discussion of death, violence)
“More like nine than six,” Temple says. “But either way, a real long time.”
He pauses, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
“To be entirely honest, I’ve been avoiding you. All of you. And I shouldn’t have. You Freelancers are the only people here from my world, after all, and I know Biff’s death was an accident. So, I shouldn’t be angry at Freelancer or Carolina or Tex or you or anyone for it. Because none of you meant for it to happen. Or realized what sim troopers were, or how Freelancer was using us.”
...yeah that's a change of tune. Squint. Is he for real? Not that she's complaining, but she also hadn't even really been thinking about it, either. She's had a lot on her mind in the last few months that isn't the random sim trooper with a grudge.
"...there's uh, only the two of us, now, like. Just for the record. The others vanished a while back." She glances vaguely past him to the door opposite, where Wash is probably in a coma at this point. "But uh. Good for you like... processing that shit."
It's fairly dismissive words but not dismissive tone. She knows well enough how hard it is to process fucked up shit that happened to you and who's fault it really was.
The phrase “processing that shit” sits weirdly in Temple’s mind. Part of him knows that “processing” isn’t what happened, that it happened far more instantly than that. But that is drowned out by the mind-altering influence of the sticker, by how the city is making him feel.
So, Temple replies, feeling uncomfortable but not quite sure why, “Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think, I guess…”
It’s not what caused him to forgive the Freelancers but it is technically true - he did have lots of time to think; he just didn’t use it to process his shit anywhere near as thoroughly as Duplicity’s mind-altering influence makes it seem like he did.
"Like, nine months, is a long time, yeah. I mean, that's how long it took me to get my shit together, so."
Not that that means all that much to Temple, who didn't know her at her worst, just the concept of her as one of the Freelancers that fucked up the sim troopers. But still. South's able to be genuinely sympathetic, here, and her own dissonant internal processes just aren't notable enough for her to know something's up.
“Suppose that means we have something in common, then,” Temple replies, laughing amicably.
He’s not all surprised that South had shit she needed to get together - after all, she is a Freelancer and Temple would be more shocked if those guys didn’t have issues - but he doesn’t say so, figuring that insulting her and the Freelancers right after forgiving them would be both counterproductive and confusing. But the remark’s still on the tip of his tongue.
South snorts a laugh. "Yeah, guess it does. Granted, I'm still a hot mess at the best of times but—"
She shrugs one shoulder. It's a process and she's still finding a balance between who she is and who she should be. Sometimes she still makes... bad choices, and she feels like she always will. Some of the damage just runs too deep.
Or maybe that's the self-loathing talking. Who can say.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorry for the wait!
“Yeah,” Temple replies, smiling nervously at her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
And the first time they met, they weren’t even in the real world. They were in memories, with North, and only North bothered to speak to him after. South didn’t seek to talk to him then and he didn’t try talking to her, even after speaking with North.
It had been almost as though they weren’t even in the same universe. And Temple supposes it could have stayed that way.
But now that he forgives her, forgives Freelancer, for all she and it have done, he doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants her to be an ally, maybe even a friend. He sees no reason for them to avoid each other, no reason for their paths not to cross.
And he wants her to know that. But telling her that isn’t quite as easy as he thought it would be, now that he’s actually talking to her.
Instead, things are just… awkward, he supposes. Because they barely know each other, and she just seems confused by his presence. But he guesses he’ll just have to power through that awkwardness somehow.
no subject
"I'll fuckin' say. Like... over six months, right?"
God, she's been here so long. Less time than Temple, obviously, but it won't be long now until she's been here longer than she was on the rig and that's... weird. That's really weird. She's also been here longer alone than she was here with North and that's also weird. Ugh, fuck the passage of time.
Mostly, she just... hadn't thought about Temple. There was the memories, and then a month or so of drama before North just vanished, and then everyone else from PFL but Wash all disappeared in quick succession, and then for the last month and a bit he's been comatose so... she just... forgot, really.
Had other things on her mind than some guy she didn't know. And now he's here. She definitely wonders what he wants, but doesn't go right to asking, either.
sorry for the long wait! (discussion of death, violence)
“More like nine than six,” Temple says. “But either way, a real long time.”
He pauses, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
“To be entirely honest, I’ve been avoiding you. All of you. And I shouldn’t have. You Freelancers are the only people here from my world, after all, and I know Biff’s death was an accident. So, I shouldn’t be angry at Freelancer or Carolina or Tex or you or anyone for it. Because none of you meant for it to happen. Or realized what sim troopers were, or how Freelancer was using us.”
no subject
...yeah that's a change of tune. Squint. Is he for real? Not that she's complaining, but she also hadn't even really been thinking about it, either. She's had a lot on her mind in the last few months that isn't the random sim trooper with a grudge.
"...there's uh, only the two of us, now, like. Just for the record. The others vanished a while back." She glances vaguely past him to the door opposite, where Wash is probably in a coma at this point. "But uh. Good for you like... processing that shit."
It's fairly dismissive words but not dismissive tone. She knows well enough how hard it is to process fucked up shit that happened to you and who's fault it really was.
no subject
The phrase “processing that shit” sits weirdly in Temple’s mind. Part of him knows that “processing” isn’t what happened, that it happened far more instantly than that. But that is drowned out by the mind-altering influence of the sticker, by how the city is making him feel.
So, Temple replies, feeling uncomfortable but not quite sure why, “Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think, I guess…”
It’s not what caused him to forgive the Freelancers but it is technically true - he did have lots of time to think; he just didn’t use it to process his shit anywhere near as thoroughly as Duplicity’s mind-altering influence makes it seem like he did.
no subject
"Like, nine months, is a long time, yeah. I mean, that's how long it took me to get my shit together, so."
Not that that means all that much to Temple, who didn't know her at her worst, just the concept of her as one of the Freelancers that fucked up the sim troopers. But still. South's able to be genuinely sympathetic, here, and her own dissonant internal processes just aren't notable enough for her to know something's up.
no subject
“Suppose that means we have something in common, then,” Temple replies, laughing amicably.
He’s not all surprised that South had shit she needed to get together - after all, she is a Freelancer and Temple would be more shocked if those guys didn’t have issues - but he doesn’t say so, figuring that insulting her and the Freelancers right after forgiving them would be both counterproductive and confusing. But the remark’s still on the tip of his tongue.
no subject
South snorts a laugh. "Yeah, guess it does. Granted, I'm still a hot mess at the best of times but—"
She shrugs one shoulder. It's a process and she's still finding a balance between who she is and who she should be. Sometimes she still makes... bad choices, and she feels like she always will. Some of the damage just runs too deep.
Or maybe that's the self-loathing talking. Who can say.