"I think if you showed up with a much older Russian sister, your parents would think I'm a con artist trying to get my hands in your trust fund." Her arms tighten briefly around him, as though to offset the criticism of that particular cover story. "I am not saying no. The only plan I have for if I graduate is a very limited engagement. But it is something we would both have to think over."
"They might be so happy I'm not being a brat anymore and made a friend that they won't care," Chase says airily, not offended. "Besides, you know how to not sound Russian, I absolutely heard you do that during the music festival." He loosens his arms a little, aiming to at least sit down, even if she wants to come with him when he does. Emotions are tiring.
She lets him go when he loosens his hold, and steps back, reading it as a signal to give him a little space.
"I do," she says, and it's in the muted Ohio accent he'd heard at the festival. "And I won't even pretend I can't do it long-term." She pauses a moment, and gives him an impish grin that almost offsets the reddish rims of her eyes and faint dampness of her lashes. "--How much do you think it'd freak people out if I just decided to talk like this all the time here?"
"A whole lot. You should totally do it and make people wonder if you got possessed or replaced by a changeling or something," Chase says. He flops back to sit on his bed, breathing out a sigh of relief. She's not mad. She's at least nominally okay with it. He's a goddamn warden.
Then he pats the bed for her to sit with him. "I have no idea how I'm going to do this," he complains. "I only like about two people on this ship and I can't be a warden for either one."
She drops down next to him with a quiet thump, scrubbing the last of the dampness from her lashes with the sleeve of her shirt. "You wouldn't want to be a warden for me anyway," she says. "I'm a terrible inmate. Anyone who actively wants to graduate would be much better. But from what I can see, the place most people fuck up is not learning who their inmate is before trying to create a strategy."
"I can count the number of inmates who actually want to graduate on one hand, probably," Chase counters, but he's not discounting her, either. "I don't know what kind of strategy I'd come up with for anyone, whether I knew them or not. I don't think Wen Ning's strategy was more than 'feed him and be nice'. He told me I should feed people. Or get them books. Or offer swimming lessons."
He does not see how any of that will help someone graduate. Or even like him.
"I think there's more than that," Yelena says. "The inmates who actually like this place, you can probably count on one hand without using all the fingers, but even if they aren't looking for redemption, most people want a way out more than they want to give the finger to the Admiral."
Or to just - stop.
"Books may not be a bad angle, depending on the person. It's sometimes hard to find a quiet spot in the library."
It isn't, but the place is more populated than she might have expected when she first arrived.
"It will depend on the person. It's probably a horrible betrayal of my nonexistent principles, but once you have someone, I can help you strategize."
"I'm probably going to need the help," Chase says glumly. He's good at observing, and at pretending to be somebody else, but looking back at his plans, he's really not as great at those. "So if you're offering, I'll take it. Hopefully I wind up with someone I don't hate, and you don't think is too stupid to live."
"I'd say that's not a very tall order, but we're both very judgmental people." She bumps his arm lightly with her shoulder. "In the meantime, get to know your temps. None of the ones I had ever had more than one conversation with me after we were paired. Norton was at least useful, but I would have not been very impressed if I was assigned to any of them permanently."
"Even the ones who aren't at all interested in getting to know me?" he asks. "Because I honestly wanted nothing to do with mine for the most part." Though, yeah, the couple of ones he had been interested in had totally blown him off, which had pissed him off.
"Okay. I'll try that, I guess. It's going to be so weird asking somebody who's probably decades or even centuries older than me 'hey are you okay, did the flood mess you up?'" He knows she's right, but he still makes a face. "Ugh, talking to people about their feelings."
"It is the absolute worst," Yelena agrees, entirely too solemn. "And I'm very glad I'm on this side of the fence, so I don't have to do it unless I want to."
He elbows her a little, well aware by now that when she sounds like that she's mocking someone, often him. "Shut up, you wouldn't want to try and make other people talk about their feelings, either. Not unless they were, I don't know, me." Because she did manage to do that a couple times, and all. On purpose, he's pretty sure.
"Oh, no, I would absolutely hate it," she agrees, though it's only halfway true. Getting people to open up is one thing, responding with vulnerability of her own is the horrible part. "With most people. You're the exception, because I actually like you."
"I guess I'm glad you like me, then. I don't, um. I don't think I would've stopped planning on dying if you hadn't wanted me to," he admits, a little awkwardly, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Wen Ning tried to say the same thing but he didn't say it as well." And Ashton failed utterly at it.
"I'm glad too," she says quietly, and loops an arm around his shoulders to give him a sideways hug. "You know I'm still going to nag you to get out of here once you have your deal, right?"
He leans into it, putting his around her shoulders, back. It's okay. She's not mad and he's going to fix his magic or his parents or both, and he's allowed to have hugs sometimes without looking like a baby. "Yeah, well, maybe I'll stay for a second deal. I'd say I'd make a deal for you, but I'm pretty sure the Admiral would call that cheating."
"That probably is the first loophole he closed," Yelena agrees. "He is an incomprehensible godlike alien who I don't think actually sees us as people, or at least not the inmates, but he would have to be very stupid to leave that one open."
She doesn't, unlike a number of passengers, think it's a matter of can't at all.
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"I do," she says, and it's in the muted Ohio accent he'd heard at the festival. "And I won't even pretend I can't do it long-term." She pauses a moment, and gives him an impish grin that almost offsets the reddish rims of her eyes and faint dampness of her lashes. "--How much do you think it'd freak people out if I just decided to talk like this all the time here?"
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Then he pats the bed for her to sit with him. "I have no idea how I'm going to do this," he complains. "I only like about two people on this ship and I can't be a warden for either one."
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She drops down next to him with a quiet thump, scrubbing the last of the dampness from her lashes with the sleeve of her shirt. "You wouldn't want to be a warden for me anyway," she says. "I'm a terrible inmate. Anyone who actively wants to graduate would be much better. But from what I can see, the place most people fuck up is not learning who their inmate is before trying to create a strategy."
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He does not see how any of that will help someone graduate. Or even like him.
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Or to just - stop.
"Books may not be a bad angle, depending on the person. It's sometimes hard to find a quiet spot in the library."
It isn't, but the place is more populated than she might have expected when she first arrived.
"It will depend on the person. It's probably a horrible betrayal of my nonexistent principles, but once you have someone, I can help you strategize."
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She gives him a quick, crooked smile. "I'm pretty sure my first temp never even knew that I was injured during the port with the death river."
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She doesn't, unlike a number of passengers, think it's a matter of can't at all.