"Well, I'm not a small American criminal girl," he points out wryly. "Do you know how easy it's been identifying the ones that aren't mine when everyone's pasty as hell?"
That makes her snort, holding her arm up next to his. Pasty is definitely a word for it, especially now that she no longer spends time in the greenhouse.
"Advantage to you. I got one of B's and the only way I was sure it wasn't mine is who 'I' was talking to."
He just raises an eyebrow; even his palm is darker than the top of her arm, when he turns his hand upright.
"This one wasn't talking, but." He lifts his hand, delicately ghosting his fingers through her hair. Avoiding the scar. "Someone giving you prep for prison, I think. Checking your hair for bugs."
"... Ah, yeah," she says, quieter. "I- things got complicated, when I went back. I turned myself in to the PRT just a few days after." As soon as she'd decided there was no point in hoping to be brought back to the ship immediately.
He moves his hand back to her shoulder for another soft squeeze against his side.
"It felt like you knew what you were getting yourself into," he comments gently. "You didn't seem scared or upset. Just... kind of resigned for it. The guard wasn't particularly gentle about it, though."
"Definitely resigned. I'd been outed - no more secret identity. I-" Her mouth twists, wry. "So, it's a very long story, but two evil clones of me told the heroes who I am, and- some things I'd done..." She grimaces at herself for weaseling out of telling him, but goes on.
"I could have kept going as Skitter, but I would have had to do something about my father, and Dinah had told me I couldn't remain with my old team anyway, which I knew, and I knew I needed a longer reach than just Brockton Bay, so I rolled the dice. Turned myself in, to make the PRT take me and what I had to say seriously.
"They assumed it was some kind of power play or trick, which I understand, so they were really suspicious."
The only concession to Tim knowing she's glossing over a decent chunk of explanation is the brief tightening of his mouth in one corner, but he doesn't interrupt or follow it.
"I wish I could assume that went well for you, but." This one gets a full mouth press, as he tightens his grip for a moment in solidarity. "Yeah."
"It went overall well," she can at least say. "The first day went bad... body-count bad," she admits, steeling herself to feel him let go. "But I wound up where I needed to be. Most of the charges got dropped, I got two years work-release, in a normal prison, not the Birdcage. And they added me to the Wards. Officially a hero."
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"Advantage to you. I got one of B's and the only way I was sure it wasn't mine is who 'I' was talking to."
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"This one wasn't talking, but." He lifts his hand, delicately ghosting his fingers through her hair. Avoiding the scar. "Someone giving you prep for prison, I think. Checking your hair for bugs."
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"It felt like you knew what you were getting yourself into," he comments gently. "You didn't seem scared or upset. Just... kind of resigned for it. The guard wasn't particularly gentle about it, though."
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"I could have kept going as Skitter, but I would have had to do something about my father, and Dinah had told me I couldn't remain with my old team anyway, which I knew, and I knew I needed a longer reach than just Brockton Bay, so I rolled the dice. Turned myself in, to make the PRT take me and what I had to say seriously.
"They assumed it was some kind of power play or trick, which I understand, so they were really suspicious."
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"I wish I could assume that went well for you, but." This one gets a full mouth press, as he tightens his grip for a moment in solidarity. "Yeah."
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"Sorry it didn't get to last," he hums.
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