[b]Orange:[/b]

[i]That was supposed to be a joke. I wasn’t expecting an answer that made the burning stop. Damn shame though. I can’t book the appointment, myself. Thanks anyway.[/i]

[i]You know, I always had this fantasy about one day, someone kidnaps me, knocks me out, did the surgery in my sleep, just so they could interrogate me. Never could have happened with Chase Black on account. Going to be dreaming of it a lot more, now. [/i]

[i]I can’t tell you good luck. I have to believe you don’t need it. [/i]

It’s not a request. It couldn’t be - if he thought you’d take it as a request, it would probably kill him. He really has to think you wouldn’t do it. Hope, though? 

You were right. The bomb was always a stupid, brutish, low-tech, asinine thing. Too brutish to risk triggering over [i]hope[/i], or Rudy would be decades dead, and too imprecise to tell the difference between hoping and hoping [i]out loud[/i]. 

Ah, right. 

Crystal looks up from her doodling. “Between the fear and loathing, you sound almost grateful to her. Which I suppose I would understand, if she taught you to be so capable. What a complicated relationship that must be.” 

“[i]Here be the verse[/i].” Fiona mutters. “[i]They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had. And add some extra, just for you[/i]. I don’t really know what to say otherwise. I mean, I already know some of the circumstances. Legally bound to this person you didn’t choose, no right to leave their ‘care’, forced back if you tried. They imprinted themselves onto you. Now you still can’t leave them, because you see a piece of them in every reflection.” Her jaw clenches, and her hand instinctively grips her cutlery knife. “The fact that they are responsible for some of what is great in you, so either you fear you’re wrong to think like parts of yourself, or there’s disgust that it might force you to hate someone less than they deserve. Yeah, honestly, it sounds like you [i]were [/i]her daughter in the ways that count.” 

Crystal blinks. “Fiona, I had no idea you had-”

“No, mine were great.” She barks a bitter laugh, dropping the knife and letting it rattle as it hits the table. “[i]Yours[/i].” 

“... ah.” Crystal trails off, before looking back to Orange. “I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted to talk about, but I will admit. I feel like it might be an important place to start.” 

“Emancipating Goat was important.” Fiona agrees. “But you had to be [i]very [/i]motivated to...” her eyes flick to the TV screen, and she lets that be her end of sentence.

[b]Waffle and Flood:[/b]

That’s all you get. Selene is on the entire opposite end of the station to Gaea, it’s going to take hours to get there. 

There’s express freight, of course, to Thrones. Thrones is reliant on food imports, full of perishables, so booking the world’s least suspicious boxcar for an expedited delivery would only have taken a point of preparedness - your [i]last[/i] point, I believe. Otherwise, you’re going to have to have planned to improvise from here.

You’ve got an hour until you need to be at the station, a planned chronological crumple zone. An emergency vehicle still capable of taking Goat. There’s nothing to do but hurry up and wait.

Nothing’s going to happen. But that doesn’t alleviate the fear it might. 

How do you spend the hour? 

[b]Strawberry:[/b]

I assume you will be busy fixing the damage you’ve caused, and keeping an eye out. When something interesting happens, I’ll tell you.