8. spam
Mira sidles up to you. She's friendly, but not excessively so, not suspiciously so. She seems like a wallflower finally trying to ease out of her shell, or some similar mixed metaphor. In the cafeteria, it's 'Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?' and a small smile. In the hallways it's falling into step, one shoulder tilted awkward and shy. 'Hi. You're so-and-so, right?' In the library she asks what you're reading; on the deck she mentions the stars are beautiful. It's mild and banal, which isn't the point. The point is getting close enough to deftly tap a sticky note on your back. Don't worry, it only says your name.
[OOC: Mira is trying to do this for everyone, so David knows where people are! She also wished to remember, meaning her own past. Instead she's going to get other people's memories - critical, trivial, or things they had forgotten. Feel free to toss her one!]
[OOC: Mira is trying to do this for everyone, so David knows where people are! She also wished to remember, meaning her own past. Instead she's going to get other people's memories - critical, trivial, or things they had forgotten. Feel free to toss her one!]
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[ He knows it. He has faith in her. ]
The barge gives different latitudes. Less, certainly. We're in a different sized box. Getting damned tired of them.
[ He wants to go home. To die, or live -- he's less than enthused about either option, but he doesn't want to be trapped here. ]
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[But not large enough not to see.]
I get to tell people the truth, now. That's different.
[It's nice. It means he can know her, a little. She can let people in. She can try.]
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David's letting you grow, then. That's good.
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But that's not a bad thing to want for a person.