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[littletonoidea]

"This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel of the-- previously of the U.S.S Hephaestus, leave a message and I'll see if I can bear to drag myself away from whatever utterly engaging task I must be doing to not notice my comms--"

BZZZZZZZ

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text; after fun times in Enclosure with Will and Malcolm

[cactusy]

ok if i come by for some ceiling time?

[littletonoidea]

Door's always open, shawgeant.

[cactusy]

[Five minutes later, she enters without preamble, announces--]

Puns are getting worse. And you should get a lock.

[And then propels herself into an upper corner. Bye.]

[littletonoidea]

I have one, but what's the point in peacetime?

[He's got his modified alarm and a spot welder today, and raises an eyebrow at Shaw in her corner.]

Is this an "I don't wanna talk about it" temper tantrum or an "I've used up all my people skills" time out?

[cactusy]

[It's a "the mere existence of the Enclosure reminds me of how broken I am, and I'm not sure I can ever go back to the way I used to be, and I think being here is making me worse" existential crisis. It's "I don't feel fear but I think I'm scared".

But she's not sure how to put that into words without freaking him out, and she figures that she already worries him enough. There's a noticeable pause before she answers, unsaid words spilling silently out into the empty space around her body.]

The second. I guess. But, uh-- hey, sorry about dying, you know? Both times.

[littletonoidea]

[Eiffel can read a room better than people give him credit for (including himself, sometimes), but that's too complex a topic for him to be able to pick up besides scared.

So his response is a low, calm hum.]

Nah. Don't be. You're still here, right? And I didn't have to listen to you get reanimated in a body bag, so. I can put my big boy pants on for you.

[cactusy]

Reanimated in a body bag?

[She echoes, cracking an eye and shifting around a little so that she can peer down at him. That sounds like a story.]

[littletonoidea]

He pointedly doesn't look at her, but his hands aren't moving either.

"I told you about the funeral, right?"

[cactusy]

"No," she says, studying him carefully. Sorry, bro; that all definitely happened when she was dead and coma'd.

[littletonoidea]

"Right, so. Back on the Hephaestus, while I was down for the count here. We had our little revolucion. Three little piggies, Toto-dot-exe, and my dead weight, versus the three big bad wolves of SI-5."

His voice is low and calm, but with the familiar, gentle rasp of exhaustion to it.

"To make a long story short, well. We found out what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Captain dead, I.T. chick dead, Hilbert dead. So, I do the only thing you can do, right? Throw a funeral."

[cactusy]

Well, there sure is a lot to unpack there. My dead weight doesn't go unnoticed. Neither does the funeral apparently landing on his shoulders. Neither does the undisguised weariness in his voice: Shaw knows calm but exhausted well.

Slowly, she pushes away from the ceiling, still watching him closely.

"Hey," she says. "I'm sorry."

Her voice is flat; quiet. She's not sure he can tell how badly she means that.

[littletonoidea]

He shrugs a shoulder, but there's a faint, tired smile as he does. He does appreciate it.

"I think I only got people to come 'cos Kepler and Jacobi were technically prisoners, and Hera didn't have much of a choice 'cos she was the room. But, y'know. I found some body bags, got the captain and the tech-roach zipped up, and... you know, got to say a few words for people."

He takes a deep breath, and wishes he had a cigarette as he sighs it out. "But halfway through we got hit by the contact event - the Dear Listeners made waves, literally, and something about their bullshit psychic mojo made Lovelace come back to life. And when the commander unzipped her body bag, the headshot was already healing over. Good as new."

[cactusy]

"That's... good?" she says, in a way that sounds like she's a little worried that she's wrong, and it just led to more horrors. "Did it last?"

[littletonoidea]

"Dunno. I got pulled back here right after. And ten minutes later we were in the zombie apocalypse."

[cactusy]

Welp.

Shaw lets herself float a little closer - close enough that she can reach out and pat his shoulder, lightly and a little awkwardly.

"I've never been a funeral kind of person. I walked out of the last one I went to. But it sucks that you had to do that on your own."

[littletonoidea]

When her hand lands, Eiffel reaches up gently to catch it and give her a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, it wasn't great. Nearly went back to my old friend to make it go by a bit faster, but. The teetotaller lives another day."

He swallows quietly as he releases her again, and looks up at her. "You don't have to apologise when you die, you know. Not to me. Only if you don't come back."

[cactusy]

Her fingers are limp and unresponsive in his, at first. Then her arm tenses in discomfort, and then it forcibly relaxes, and she gives him a little squeeze back before they let go.

"Good," she says, wryly. "Because, uh-- let's just say I have a pretty dangerous lifestyle."

And why would that change on the Barge?

"I haven't really told you too much about home, have I."

She knows she hasn't. But she also feels like she should, after what he's shared - and what's more, she feels like she wouldn't mind. Feels like she wants to, even.