[ An automated voice speaks because someone hasn't bothered to set up a proper voicemail. The only part in her voice is her name. ] You have reached Agent Texas. Leave a message at the tone.
[ No, she doesn't come in for her shift. It had been as simple as coming back one day and finding Church... gone. Not from some fit of rage or pulling some stupid prank. His comm was no longer functioning if her repeated requests to get through meant anything.
She waited. In some vain hope he would return as if nothing happened, but the sinking pit in her stomach grew deeper as time dragged on. There's nothing for him back home, nothing for either of them. Here he had more time, the luxury of having a life he only imagined before, and she's not sure if that brief spell he was here with her was better than the nothing he had before.
There had been nothing to lose until they came here.
So she doesn't show up for her shift. Instead she holes up in a quiet bar, as most often are this time of day, and buys herself beer to sip as she tries to forget her thoughts. If only she could actually get drunk instead of pretending. It would make this a helluva lot easier to do.
She notices him first thing when he walks in, her posture stiffening immediately. She should have given them some kind of warning she wouldn't be coming in, but that thought hadn't even registered. There's a moment of silence as she waits for him to speak, expecting some remark about her absence this morning. Instead all he does is order.
It's another moment of silence before she breaks it herself, grumbling, ] Yes?
["Artist" gets a bit of a sidelong glance, followed by a dismissive gesture and pleased sound. After a moment of study to the sketch cramped into the corner... he turns the page for a fresh sheet.]
There's a little to go over anyway. He's a long history of reaction to medications.
[The bartender puts the drink in front of Aral with a raised eyebrow and is met with a sardonic stare in return. Unphased, the man merely shrugs and returns to his place at the other end of the nearly empty bar.
He takes a rather conservative sip before answering.]
[ She nods. That's a list she can easily commit to memory and will serve as a good cross-check if Miles ever needs to be brought in for medical attention again. ]
[ She takes a long pull of her beer as she seriously considers that. Doe she want company? Well she hasn't chased him off yet and she's not in the mood to face Tucker right now.
She shrugs. ] Guess so. [ A pause then, ] I'm not coming in today.
[ As if that wasn't obvious already barring an emergency. ]
[There were certain parts of Barrayar - those being the parts that are terraformed - that consider good liquor a reasonable substitute for coffee. But there were more than enough context clues to piece a good picture together.]
It seemed so. [There's a vague wave here. He'd already had that handled.] I doubted the reason was small.
I wish it were so simple. What we have scarcely matches the medicine of this era, though the classes remain. [Gamely though, he gives those and what in-universe names they'd found to be similar enough.
Gestures over the page, at this point, where large and loose, sketching space and vague shape to being.]
[ She glances over at him before nodding. It's good she's made that much of an impression of them all that they knew she wouldn't be running off for no reason. ]
Church is gone. I'm not sure if the porter is going to spit him back out, but if it doesn't... [ She lets that thought trail off and finishes it by downing the last of her drink. ]
Hell no. Depends on what powers you have anyway. You can find someone with a similar skill set and get them to help if you can't figure them out yourself.
No, you don't. Of course, that's because you can only fight something you can touch. Easier if I'm a man; easier to kill me, while the devil, really, is just an idea.
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