Date: 2016-07-20 02:20 pm (UTC)
brooches: (pic#7183243)
From: [personal profile] brooches
[ When you have next to nothing to lose - what will you do? One name flashes in her mind.

Booker.

She wants to get back to him so badly, to return to him and escape to Paris. Such a dream is childish now. So irrelevant... There were better things to do than mix peas with porridge. Elizabeth acts on her own bitterness, her own guilt to get her to this point.

She knows there's a time where she will question if she can really kill him. To avenge Rhys, to give redemption to Fiona - to Angel. She doesn't know facts. One conversation, she repeats, one at a time.

Where she sees his datapad filling with dumb programs, he sees promise. He sees opportunity.

As it's passed, her eyes begin to scan. It takes a while for her to ready through it, but she repeats: ]


Pelagic Genesis...?

[ She's unsure, but as he says something, it strikes her. ]

So there's more. [ She says matter of factly. She doesn't blame him - transparency is an acquired trait. ] How far have you sold your soul for this...?

[ It's not exactly demeaning, but she's exhausted. Confused. She sees Booker in him - a man with debt, in some form or another. She's reaching, and he can see her sympathy turn into a clenched one, teeth tightening together the more she reads.

The part with the aliens are interesting, so she stays silent, after. It takes a moment for her to finally part her lips. ]


Infected. I'm not the only one being used... and you're suddenly saddled with this insurmountable responsibility. How many others are there?
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