He reaches under a stack of books and retrieves a laptop, one that's newer looking but layered with Swedish stickers daring people to go fuck themselves.
"How about..." He searches, searches. "Iris."
Again, because she's been here a long time, and because he doubts she'd care, so there's minimal risk to him if Elizabeth chooses to turn on him about this.
"You have yours ready?" But he doesn't wait to check, he'll give her this bit of trust, that she won't just take what he offers and run.
His file is typed up in shorthand, his personal code, so some of it may not make sense. But what he is plain about is what he knows of Iris's past lives, what she's shared about her physiology, her explanation of the time-space continuum.
The word "BUS" with a question mark before and after it.
And a number at the bottom: 4.3 next to last week's date.
Before she replies she puts her hand over the information-- he should know, then. "It's all in my cabin. I don't carry those things around with me."
She already collapsed in the showers, once. She's not risking that again, even if it's all coded.
When she's told him that she uncovers the file again, and looks down at it. She can't decode everything, but what he has is interesting-- Iris talks on the network often enough that she has most of this, but she didn't know everything. At the end, she looks up, pointing at the 4.3.
It makes her smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners before she hands him the info back.
"I'll need a few minutes if I'm going to get you my information." Because it's all coded with different One Time Pads, and it'll definitely make her look like a spy if she brings it in like that.
If he's surprised that she needs time, he doesn't show it. After all, if she goes digging on his computer, she'll run into encryptions that Lisbeth Salander taught him. He decoded a handful to offer her, and to make himself seem less paranoid as well.
"Of course you don't want to stay here for years to get a unique wish," she
huffs, sounding exasperated more than anything. It's all so
American, really, but that's hardly a complaint she's going to
voice.
"Sometimes it feels like we're a commodity with an expiration date." Even
Arthas left, after all. Six years.
"We are." Lark truly believes that. "But even if you get sent home, they can always pull you back again. I've seen wardens come back as inmates. I've seen inmates come back multiple times."
Lark could make his answer equally light. But he's had to think about this a lot lately.
"Between you and me," because he always lies about this to Alec, to Steve. "The Admiral seems to hate what I am. He wants me to go back to a set of ideals that I left behind years ago. He wants me to share the same morals and values the wardens have. And I simply don't. I can't. If I tried, I'd end up dead at home anyway. So...no. I'll be here until he sends me home again."
He smiles at her, and he leans against the all opposite her door, pretending to fiddle with his communicator. Really he's just listening.
Well he gave her some faith, that doesn't mean he's not still curious. And since no one on board knows how strong his hearing actually is, he enjoys taking advantage of it.
There's the creaking of a floorboard, a soft grunt when she unearths the files she hasn't updated recently, the less urgent ones. Rustling, then the sound of the floorboard being returned to its position.
The next few minutes are scratching of a pen on paper, the decoding process. All in all, she's out in five minutes, and then she invites him in. It's all hidden away again.
"We can sit here, but I don't have much to drink."
"That's fine. I had plenty in the library," he promises, and he picks a
seat based on watching her to see which one she consciously or
subconsciously prefers him to be in.
"It's nice," he says, and means it. His eyes linger on the decor and he smiles at the rug hung behind her bed. "My friend had one of those in his living room. His parents' living room."
But his gaze turns back to her, serious but eager. "Who did you pull up for me?"
"I wad probably born around the same time," she laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Even if we're the same age now."
She hands him the file, with Eggsy's name over the top. It has his usual whereabouts, when he's in which location and what for; what he can do, how strong he is, in what; and details about his past that she's scrounged up.
Lark reviews it fast, committing as much to memory as he can. "He's my friend's warden so I see him sometimes. He's one of those strange people who can't shake off their optimism and can't commit to cynicism."
It makes Eggsy hard to predict, but interesting. Lark would be more involved if not for Alec.
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"How about..." He searches, searches. "Iris."
Again, because she's been here a long time, and because he doubts she'd care, so there's minimal risk to him if Elizabeth chooses to turn on him about this.
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"And then we see whether we're a match in this."
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His file is typed up in shorthand, his personal code, so some of it may not make sense. But what he is plain about is what he knows of Iris's past lives, what she's shared about her physiology, her explanation of the time-space continuum.
The word "BUS" with a question mark before and after it.
And a number at the bottom: 4.3 next to last week's date.
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She already collapsed in the showers, once. She's not risking that again, even if it's all coded.
When she's told him that she uncovers the file again, and looks down at it. She can't decode everything, but what he has is interesting-- Iris talks on the network often enough that she has most of this, but she didn't know everything. At the end, she looks up, pointing at the 4.3.
"What does that mean?"
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"I'll need a few minutes if I'm going to get you my information." Because it's all coded with different One Time Pads, and it'll definitely make her look like a spy if she brings it in like that.
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"Sounds fair."
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She throws back her drink, but before she stands up she smiles at him.
"I'm glad you asked me here. It's good to know that there are more people who care about these things."
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He packs the laptop, leaves the rest. People tend to ignore books and bottles, he's found.
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"It's like living with shutters over your eyes," she judges, shrugging as she makes her way through the winding hallways.
"It's not living."
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"Of course you don't want to stay here for years to get a unique wish," she huffs, sounding exasperated more than anything. It's all so American, really, but that's hardly a complaint she's going to voice.
"Sometimes it feels like we're a commodity with an expiration date." Even Arthas left, after all. Six years.
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"Do you think you'll ever do it, Lark?"
It's a surprisingly intimate question coming from her, but the way she says it it sounds light.
"Graduate?"
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"Between you and me," because he always lies about this to Alec, to Steve. "The Admiral seems to hate what I am. He wants me to go back to a set of ideals that I left behind years ago. He wants me to share the same morals and values the wardens have. And I simply don't. I can't. If I tried, I'd end up dead at home anyway. So...no. I'll be here until he sends me home again."
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"And wardens would tell you you won't go home, but you will," she nods, getting more exasperated by the second.
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But that's a topic he has other people investigating.
"Do you want me to just wait outside for toy?" A leap of faith he would never offer most people. Certainly no one else on board now.
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The offer makes her smile, and she reaches to squeeze his lower arm in thanks. "Thank you. Yes, that would help."
Because it's all hidden, too, and the fewer people know the better. "Ten minutes, tops."
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Well he gave her some faith, that doesn't mean he's not still curious. And since no one on board knows how strong his hearing actually is, he enjoys taking advantage of it.
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The next few minutes are scratching of a pen on paper, the decoding process. All in all, she's out in five minutes, and then she invites him in. It's all hidden away again.
"We can sit here, but I don't have much to drink."
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"That's fine. I had plenty in the library," he promises, and he picks a seat based on watching her to see which one she consciously or subconsciously prefers him to be in.
"Is this a place you knew at home?"
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"It's my bedroom," she tells him, as she gets settled, leaving him the comfortable chair by the bed.
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But his gaze turns back to her, serious but eager. "Who did you pull up for me?"
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She hands him the file, with Eggsy's name over the top. It has his usual whereabouts, when he's in which location and what for; what he can do, how strong he is, in what; and details about his past that she's scrounged up.
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It makes Eggsy hard to predict, but interesting. Lark would be more involved if not for Alec.
"What do you make of him?"
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