[The elevator opens. Inside of their floor there are hosts- not all of them, not gathered in one place, but more than there had been on the Station, in the living area, in their rooms. Across the city, a web of minds.
Inside the elevator is her, with him, waiting patiently for him to leave, to join them. To allow the doors to close behind them and the lift to glide back down to whoever else might need it. His mind is cluttered and crowded, and it's with great difficulty that she resists doing more than simply talking to him. She doesn't bother to disguise the fact that she can hear him, though. There is no point in pretending.]
Of course you should. This is where you are meant to be.
[Her voice is gentle and encouraging, a soft smile on her face as she joins him at his side, fingers laced behind her back- restraining herself, in some small way. Her thoughts are the same, and they're free and easy and accessible. Warm and welcoming. Glad to see him, even as he is. Standing there, she looks very fragile compared to him, but she's not frightened. Not of him. How could she be?]
Can I help you?
[It's a genuine question. She would like to, very much. She could, but there are edges to his thoughts, and she thinks it might not be welcome. But there were more ways to help then one. Perhaps he would like a drink? Something warm, something soothing- an idea and a concept that is open for him to see and understand and know, if he wants.]
no subject
Inside the elevator is her, with him, waiting patiently for him to leave, to join them. To allow the doors to close behind them and the lift to glide back down to whoever else might need it. His mind is cluttered and crowded, and it's with great difficulty that she resists doing more than simply talking to him. She doesn't bother to disguise the fact that she can hear him, though. There is no point in pretending.]
Of course you should. This is where you are meant to be.
[Her voice is gentle and encouraging, a soft smile on her face as she joins him at his side, fingers laced behind her back- restraining herself, in some small way. Her thoughts are the same, and they're free and easy and accessible. Warm and welcoming. Glad to see him, even as he is. Standing there, she looks very fragile compared to him, but she's not frightened. Not of him. How could she be?]
Can I help you?
[It's a genuine question. She would like to, very much. She could, but there are edges to his thoughts, and she thinks it might not be welcome. But there were more ways to help then one. Perhaps he would like a drink? Something warm, something soothing- an idea and a concept that is open for him to see and understand and know, if he wants.]