[ She comes to check on him, the way she would check on one of her plants, and honestly doesn't intend to engage or converse but... Of course he does that for her. His good humor touches her a bit more effectively than Angel's had, can feel it more strongly through the taut webbing of their brood. She sighs, put upon. She doesn't understand any of this, the running in endless circles, the repetition motions. Was this what was required in a modern world, where work was handed off to inanimate objects? You then had to artificially simulate work? She thinks about running for her life across the wastes, about lugging compost and harvests up and down flights upon flights of stairs.... ]
Very well. I will... run with you.
[ That sounds ridiculous to her, but she knows that's how the turn of phrase works. ]
ii.
Very well. I will... run with you.
[ That sounds ridiculous to her, but she knows that's how the turn of phrase works. ]