skitter | IC Inbox

Rags is in the kitchen, scooping rice into a bowl. "Hey, in here. So have you find that new door that showed up?" he wonders. "The warden locked one?"

She has to think about it for a second, but she nods. “Yeah, I saw it.” She’d been rather distracted at the time, though, and it hadn’t pinged. “What’s in there?”

"A weird room, a book about all the inmates - don't worry, nothing super fucking personal, and then a big button."

He turns around, fork in the bowl.

Rice sounds like a good idea, so she brushes against his shoulder as she gets a bowl to serve herself too. “That’s fun. Going to let me in to read it?

“What’s the button? Admiral finally install a self-destruct?”

He hops up on the counter, staring at the bowl. "No. It takes away all inmate powers. For - for a certain period of time. That's why Dad and I needed to talk first. To figure out what to do for you."

Taylor’s hands stop, her back stiffening with the sudden remembered sensation of being gone.

“Turns the whole ship into Zero. How long?”

He watches her closely, noticing the movement. Or - lack of. "An hour."

She had been in Zero for seconds. He doesn't want to think about an hour.

She continues to not move, but the insects outside the door, the contained ones in their room, all their little noises increase in agitation.

An hour.

“I’d rather toll,” comes out before she can stop it.

"I know," he tells her. And he does, even though the thought of it makes him sick.

"Dad and I will take you to the infirmary for sure. They can give you something. Make you sleep."

She swallows, and is very deliberate and controlled in the way she sets down her bowl. Her appetite is dead, the smell of rice oppressive now.

“I won’t be able to contact you.”

He takes the little silver lump out of his pocket and holds it up to her. "I know where you are all the time, remember?"

“How soon will you know, if someone pushes it?” She’s thinking through all of the wardens. Who would, and who wouldn’t.

"I wonder if I can get the Admiral to give an alert about it. A responsible fucking warden would give a warning," he points out. "But I don't trust that."

She shakes her head. She doesn't either. "I'll talk to... um. Anyone else I might be with. I can make sure I'm not alone."

That's going to involve telling more people about a very critical weakness, and she's not thrilled. But she's terrified of every second she might have to wait, trapped in that hollow, directionless hell.

He pauses. "Shit. The leprechaun. He can tell me. He'll know if his powers don't work, so he - he'll be able to tell me, even if the wardens do it sneaky. I'll make a Deal with him to tell me first and it should only last a second."

She pushes both her hands through her hair, not caring that she's crushing bugs. "... Fuck, Hunter. He flies."

He flinches a little. "The staff isn't - his. I don't think it would be affected. He wouldn't know."

She exhales, and it's shaky. No, that won't do. Fuck. Everything out into the swarm, until she can feel her pulse slowing. Her expression is blank when she sits down at the table, elbows propped on it.

"It's for... riot control, I assume? In case we get out of hand?"

"I would assume so. I don't know when it would have ever been useful." He watches her at the table and frowns. "I'm - sorry, Taylor."

She acknowledges that with a brief nod, eyes not fixed on anything in the room.

"Not your choice. I know you wouldn't push it."

Rags sighs and slides off the counter to wrap her in a slightly awkward though meaningful hug.

"No. Never."

Coming back to herself enough to lean into him isn't easy, right now. And it means he can feel the trembling she's trying to push away. She breathes out through her nose, shutting her eyes, head on his shoulder.

She doesn't have to hide how she feels to him; he could have guessed it anyway. But he still holds her tightly, as if he can actually keep her safe here. "I'm going to fucking protect you, T. In the best way I know how to, okay? I know - it fucking sucks. And it's scary, but I won't leave you like that. I swear on the raven, on the magpie. I won't."

It's not him she's trying to hide it from. She scowls to herself, pressing her hands against the table to make sure they don't shake.

"I'm scared," she makes herself admit aloud, voice low. It feels so selfish, to be afraid just for herself. Just for how something will affect her.

"I know. We'll figure it out," he promises, not letting go. "You have so many people who want to help you and protect you."

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