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[failureisntachoice]

[ 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.

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[use_everything]

[There were a number of things that Aral Vorkosigan would expect from armsmen. Sometimes a bit of drinking leads to a missed shift and the scrambling of fellows to cover the rearrangement from the eyes of the Count and Lord. Sometimes, it's as simple as sleeping in.

However, Tex missing a paying shift was actually alarming. A simple glance over the link hadn't gathered any signs of danger or those heady surges of adrenaline he'd come to associate with an Issue In Progress... in fact, he hadn't found much of anything at all.

It was just a little after noon that he quietly, and without any fanfare made his own search.. and after a few dead ends, checked a little bar she'd mentioned in a recommendation some idle conversation back.

There's no greeting, no questioning, he simply sat next to her, and put in his own order, scotch on the rocks, damn the time.]

[failureisntachoice]

[ 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?

[use_everything]

[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.]

Care for company?

[failureisntachoice]

[ 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. ]

[use_everything]

[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.

[failureisntachoice]

[ 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. ]

[use_everything]

[Her Complicated Man, the other AI formed from memories of a man and a love affair. Was it loneliness? Grief? Some ache he couldn't understand from their origins? He takes another thoughtful sip, enjoying the enlivening burn to it.]

Is it very different? The life you two return to?

[failureisntachoice]

[ She snorts and motions for the bartender to pour her another beer from the tap. The glass gives her something to keep her hand on while the other grips the edge of the counter. ]

You could say that. As soon as we return, we're blasted away by an EMP. [ Did they even have those in his time period?

A small sigh then, ] It's an electromagnetic pulse that wipes out all data in range and stops anything electronic in its tracks.

[use_everything]

[There's no music, no conversation in the bar, not this early. Their only company are a few dedicated drinkers, determined to be obliterated before the evening crowd even got out of work.

It's easy to hear his indrawn breath at that, sudden and sharp. He was familiar with EMPs... they'd just phased out recently in his time, made obsolete by Betan hardware casing that now came standard in almost everything.]

I see.

[failureisntachoice]

[ She waves a hand vaguely and keeps her gaze on her glass. This place is far too public for her to let herself be consumed by her emotions, entirely the reason why she's here, but a light glaze forms over her eyes.

She closes them and takes a deep breath. ]

Yeah.

[use_everything]

[He looks back to his scotch carefully giving her privacy. They sit in silence for some few minutes after, the air a bit heavier, both working a bit on their drink... Aral considering how to say what he wants.]

Have you eaten, today?

[failureisntachoice]

No.

[ It's a simple answer and she declines to tack on the I don't need to part. Heading somewhere else would be just as good a distraction as wasting her money at the bar.

She finishes off her beer rather quickly and glances over at Aral. ]

Have a place in mind?

[use_everything]

More of a ... gesture.

[He finishes his drink with a snap, and sets down cash to settle his tab.]

If you would allow me.

[failureisntachoice]

[ She eyes him. ]

You don't want to take care of mine. [ She may not be able to get drunk, but the stench of alcohol on her makes it pretty obvious how much she's had while being here. ]

[use_everything]

Ah. [And may not, on what was left of his pay this week, actually be able to. He glances at her, aside.] You seem steady.

[failureisntachoice]

I can't get drunk unless I want to simulate it. [ Lucky for him, the bartender already has her card on file and she motions for the guy to close her tab out. ]

It was more something to do.

[use_everything]

[He clears his throat slightly, and nods.

... Wasting money, essentially. From her...]

What I have in mind may not be too unalike. [He stands and straightens his sleeves, and starts for the door. This wasn't a place he was like to discuss it.]

[failureisntachoice]

[ She slides her wallet into her pocket and falls into step beside him as he heads out. ]

And what would that be?

[use_everything]

[He winces at the sudden light as they step outside, but his pace remains steady. He thought he had seen something promising on the ride here...

In the mean time, it's a couple of strides along before he begins to answer. He hadn't eaten yet either, today.]

An offering. ... We have no religion, but we hold some traditions. Some burn it to grieve, others to banish the ghosts- burdens of another life, others merely to mark that they can move on.

I don't know if it would have much meaning for you, but.. I would like to show you. As an armswoman of House Vorkosigan.

[failureisntachoice]

[ She's about to speak again with another probing question when he finally answers her question. There's a small frown as she considers it and she watches him from the corner of her eyes. ]

What kind of offering? I was thinking of putting a grave marker somewhere.

[use_everything]

[His mannerism is composed, merely formal, as if explaining a cultural quirk rather than a rather personal ritual.]

It's traditional to burn a lock of hair. [... a memory, still hazy, almost gone, of Cordelia a few days ago...] Sometimes more, if lock doesn't seem enough. Items of worth, symbolic or otherwise, often are included, as well as incense.

Sometimes, words are spoken, memories, curses, sometimes, hopes.

And then most go out to eat- we fast, beforehand.

[failureisntachoice]

[ She runs through a brief inventory of what little they have here and nothing suitable for burning comes up. Maybe Tucker would have something in mind...

At the very least she could get a marker. ]

Is there a certain time that you do these things?

[use_everything]

[He shakes his head.]

Dawn is often chosen, but any you prefer. Do you have something in mind?

[failureisntachoice]

[ She shrugs and shoves her hands in her pockets. ]

Not much. One of his good friends is still here, I thought he might want to join in anything I end up doing.

[use_everything]

[There wasn't much traffic on this road, foot or otherwise. Most of the businesses on this particular collection of buildings didn't begin to attract attention until the sheer amount of rattling neon could replace the night streetlamps. The only other pedestrian their side by side monopoly of the sidewalk they had to move for was a man bundled up heavily against the cold spring breezes, moving briskly in the other direction.

As Aral's pace slows a touch, they've near privacy.]

It is a personal thing, as such, you can invite who you like. Just the two of you, if you wish.

[The suggestion is quiet, less preference and more respect.]