Tyrell Wellick, bland smile, creeper eyes, a blank handsome face on the E Corp hydra. Darlene has seen the news. She knows a little. All the shit going down with E Corp, internal shakeups, APBs--it's only helped the chaos that fsociety is raining on their asses. And yeah: it is a little insulting to see Wellick touted as the face of fsociety, getting all that media credit for work that they are doing, work that he has seriously nothing to do with. If it keeps the FBI guessing, Darlene has reasoned, why the hell not. But still.
"Tyrell Wellick shot you." Flat, unimpressed. "You get out of prison, I somehow do not make it to pick you up, and wanted man Tyrell Wellick intercepts you and then shoots you, because the Dark Army told him to. And he's been some-- goddamn assassin this whole time?"
There's a swell of panic that she's trying to keep under wraps. The picture of her on Cisco's computer. Her Dark Army contact. A string of Chinese characters. And Elliot touches his hand to his stomach and Darlene doesn't remember the bullet with him or anything dramatic like that, but she knows it's true. She pushes her hair back from her face and grips it in place, right at the back of her skull.
You're sure it was Tyrell Wellick, she does not say, for real Tyrell Wellick, a start of thought that flickers but doesn't take. Flushes out, hopefully quick enough that Elliot won't notice it.
"Okay," she says. "It doesn't matter. Right? Because Tyrell Wellick, the Dark Army--all that shit--it isn't here."
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"Tyrell Wellick shot you." Flat, unimpressed. "You get out of prison, I somehow do not make it to pick you up, and wanted man Tyrell Wellick intercepts you and then shoots you, because the Dark Army told him to. And he's been some-- goddamn assassin this whole time?"
There's a swell of panic that she's trying to keep under wraps. The picture of her on Cisco's computer. Her Dark Army contact. A string of Chinese characters. And Elliot touches his hand to his stomach and Darlene doesn't remember the bullet with him or anything dramatic like that, but she knows it's true. She pushes her hair back from her face and grips it in place, right at the back of her skull.
You're sure it was Tyrell Wellick, she does not say, for real Tyrell Wellick, a start of thought that flickers but doesn't take. Flushes out, hopefully quick enough that Elliot won't notice it.
"Okay," she says. "It doesn't matter. Right? Because Tyrell Wellick, the Dark Army--all that shit--it isn't here."
And Elliot isn't shot. Important.