2017-03-03: ARMs and the Woman

• Log: ARMs and the Woman
• Cast: Gwen Whitlock, Josephine Lovelace
• Where: Adlehyde - Town Center
• Date: March 3rd, 2017, shortly after a tavern brawl.
• Summary: Josephine takes the opportunity to ask Gwen about something and also get the younger girl (and herself) cleaned up.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Where clever words (mostly, at least on Josie's part) fail, clever actions (and distractions) succeed. The ladies make a break for it--

And just in time, too. The law is coming around the bend to see to the disturbance, so it's a lucky break. Josie jogs around the bend before stopping a moment and reaching out--

To snag the shirtsleeve of the presumedly youngest of their temporary group as she happens by. "Hey, kiddo, this way!"

If Gwen doesn't come willingly, she may just find that Josie will do her best to drag her down the alley with her.

This may be a little more difficult than Josie is expecting though.

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

GOTTA GO FAST. The law was exactly the thing Gwen *didn't* want to deal with right now. She's done really nicely in keeping on the 'right side' of the law, thanks to Auntie Frea's expertise on all the legal loopholes that can help out when matters were more grey. This involved, of course, things like 'when to use your damn ARM like a person who has a damn ARM'.

Specifically, when someone shows theirs, you show yours. Up until this point, that's all Gwen really had to do outside of a few scuffles with bandits here and there. Enough to know her ARM works as intended. Just showing the damn thing all lit with electricity and glinting like metal in the light is enough to make people run. Here, it just made people push back even harder.

Panting, Gwen pants a hand over her chest as she gets a distance away, slowing her speed into a jog. "Whew..." The hand happens to be the right, which, unfortunately, isn't gloved just yet. "Ghh!!' Gwen makes a face and quickly attempts to unroll her sleeve to cover the offending arm. Just need to buckle it up when-

YANK

This is how Josie gets a panicked Gwen by a loose shirt sleeve, who is, by the way, putting up a decent fight for someone doing the human equivalent of a frantic pigeon caught in a bag. Thankfully, she's not throwing any punches or kicks. "Nono! I swear, it was self defense! Really! I didn't hurt anyone! The piano was th- Oh." Gwen's light grey eyes look up at Josephine while in mid-twist. "... Ah, you can let go of me no- hey, stop dragging, this blouse isn't cheap to mend..."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Frantic pigeon. Now /that/ is a state of mind that Josie knows well -- nothing quite panics like a pigeon can.

Speaking of, there's a fluttering of wings as something settles on a nearby gutter, just out of sight.

"Calm down, kiddo, I'm not going to... huh." Gwen... really doesn't move too easily, does she? But of course, the reason why was as plain as day, just a little while ago.

She tugs Gwen's sleeve once more, as if testing something.

And quite nonchalantly claps the younger girl on the shoulder.

"Alright, alright, no dragging!" she says, shaking her left hand as she finally releases her grip on Gwen. She grins, flashing a bright smile. "I'm not some monster after a snack, you know! Though..." She considers Gwen, for half a moment, her smile growing somewhat sly.

"I'd bet a monster'd have a hard time snacking on you."

She half-pivots away at that, then gestures, this time with her right hand, loosely in the direction of the opposite end of the alley. "You're just as soaked as I am. C'mon, let's get out of here before the law finds us and get ourselves cleaned up. I've got a room rented nearby." A pause. "What did you say your name was, kiddo? ...Gwen? I'm Josie."

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

Indeed. Gwen seems to be a fair weight for someone in the late teens/early twenties. Some muscle, not exactly petite, but not someone who's had access to rich meals. Most wouldn't have trouble shoving her around if they had a bit of muscle under their command.

That is, until someone actually tries to shove her around.

Flinching almost comically under the clap on her shoulder, Gwen turns around, frowning as she resumes rearranging her sleeve. "I dunno, monsters do come in a lot of different shapes," she retorts, though she tries to shake off the remaining bit of ill humor from the brawl before. "... Nn... Sorry, that was kinda ridiculous back there. I'm usually a lot more laid-back than this, y'know...?" She sighs, running her right hand through her scalp of hair.

It feels good to have it out, sometimes. If only she could just... paint it the same color as her skin. How would that work? "Ah, Gwen Whitlock. Super, uh, courier." It just gets more and more silly the more she says it. "Okay, so, uh," She suddenly remembers the _person just in front of her watching her scratch her head with a metallic hand_, and meekly gets out her glove, slipping it on. "Usually I'd just go dunk myself at a watering hole, but a shower *would* be nice, come to think of it." She frowns. "This ain't for any sort of pay, is it? Because I want nothing of it if you're trying to con something."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

She's heavier than she ought to be, that much is for sure. That said, Josie has a pretty good idea of the 'why'... if not the how, or what, or any other factor involved here. But that part can be resolved.

Maybe.

That smile of Josie's only widens. "Oh, I don't know, I think you'd send a monster off crying for its momma," she comments, before waving her left hand as if to dismiss it all. "But don't worry about it. I've been in a barfight or two before, but never one like that!"

Really, that just about put some tavern fights out in Aveh's frontier towns to shame.

"Lovelace. That's my last name, but I better not catch you calling me Miss Lovelace." Playfully, she shakes a finger at Gwen. "Just Josie is fine! I'm an archaeologist, actually -- I'm here for the festival."

She's already turned to head on off ahead when she halts mid-stride. She snaps her fingers as if in frustration. "Charging for a shower? Why didn't I think of that -- Oh, no, I'm just kidding around." Josie shakes her head, an action which would certainly shake free a few locks if they weren't plastered to her scalp. Ew. "C'mon, I'll just ask you a few questions instead and we can call it even." She cranes her head backwards to glance in Gwen's approximate direction. "Does that work?"

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

"And then probably run like hell from the angry momma," Gwen quips as she eases the glove on. It's all in good fun, of course- Josie doesn't seem to be *too* shady a character. Not anymore so than the gambler or... just about anyone else there. "I think it's the festival. More people are around. Lots of cheap food and cheap alcohol to go around. And then some. Get a bunch of people trapped in a tavern and you got yourself a fight."

When is that festival going to close, anyhow? Seems everything's happening at once. "So, Miss Josie's right out? Not that I have a habit of calling people by their first names, but that's just when I'm doing my job. Adds a layer of professionalism that I may sometimes lack otherwise." There have been days. Rainy days. Hot days. Cold days. "An archaeologist? Huh. For how long? You may have known my auntie, though, she's been out of the researching and drifting business for a bit."

Well, Josie's got her attention, at least. "Suresure, as long as I have the right to decide which questions I'll answer," Gwen says as she shoves her right hand into her glove hastily, then frowns as she squeezes it into a fist experimentally.

She's going to have to clean it. At least, the parts that can be cleaned. Some parts just remain more a 'not for opening' deal. But those parts she doesn't have to worry about eternally smelling like stale beer on a hot afternoon.

Granted, everything smells like that right now. "At this point I'm ready to call off anything to do with beer. Lead the way."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

When it comes to Drifters, who really can say who is and who isn't shady? It's a sad state of affairs.

For her part, Josie seems content to nod. "Possibly! It's been pretty busy out and about. Of course, it means it's easier to find partners for exploration nearby, so..." Can't complain, basically. Even if it means a tavern 'sort of' caught on fire.

"'Miss Josie' is a maybe! But don't press your luck!" That's said with a wink, though -- she's probably not being serious. Probably. It's the second half though that /definitely/ gets Gwen Josie's absolute undivided attention. "Your auntie, huh? Does she live around here? I might know her; it's been a while since I've been out this way, though. What's her name?"

Again, a wave of the hand. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you anything too embarrassing!" It's the unspoken subtext there though -- she has only one thing she really wants to ask about, and it's likely plain as day to Gwen what that is. It's not like she's even trying to hide /that/ interest.

At least... she seems interested, and not horrified?

"Follow me," Josie says simply at that, before heading on down the alleyway. A flutter of wings trails after them.

Luckily the innkeeper is /not/ in, which saves Josie another argument about 'when she intends to pay up her tab' (not anytime soon at this rate), and she slips upstairs. Ushering Gwen inside, she heads on over to the window and unlatches it. In short order, a white-and-black bird alights on the sill, to which Josephine just sighs and utters, "There you are."

Tugging off her scarf and shucking off her jacket, she indicates vaguely with her left hand towards the small joke of a bathroom. "Over in there. You should go first, before the beer gums up the works." A pause, as she struggles onehandedly with undoing her tangled braid. "You know, I've never seen anyone with anything like your arm before..."

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

"Auntie Frea. She was based in the Badlands, but she's moved to Boot Hill." Which is still in the Badlands, but a little less 'bad'.

No last name is offered, and Gwen doesn't seem like she's hiding any. "A girl needs to keep her secrets, y'know," she answers to Josie. Thankfully, judging by her tone, it seems she's warming up to her, if just enough to relax.

Walking into Josie's room, Gwen breathes a sigh of relief, only to have her attention stolen by the strange... pigeon? She hovers close to it like a child getting close to a sparrow, afraid she might scare it away. "Just haven't looked around hard enough," Gwen states off-handledly, over her shoulder. It may or may not be a lie. "There's a lot more interesting things out there in the world than a girl with a prosthetic."

A prosthetic that can be taken into the shower, is never taken off, can be used to do something as fiddley as 'itch your head', and cause you to go 'ow' when someone pokes at it.

Looking up from the bird, Gwen instantly looks away as Josie begins to undress. She's not blushing, but she does seem to be a little less... free to begin undressing herself, at least. You'd think that someone who's grown up around a much older woman, as well as be in various states of dress due to a massive surgery and the healing it requires, would be used to other women undressing. Not Gwen.

She's used to horses seeing her undress, not, gasp, OTHER PEOPLE. "Uh, I'll take it." The shower, that is. She doesn't even taken anything off, whether due to not quite trusting Josephine, or she's just shy. After a while, the sounds of the shower click on. It might take a while.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

"Frea..." Josie's dark eyes turn blank for a few moments, before the light of recognition flickers on. "Frea... Frea, yes, I remember now! How is she doing? Retired now?" A stab in the dark, by the sound of it.

There is, briefly, a soft giggle. "Secrets, huh? Aren't you a little young to have secrets?" It's not seriously meant -- playfulness hangs off each word. Because it's pretty clear that Gwen does in fact have at least one secret.

Up in the cramped (whatever the going rate is for this place, it's too damn high) inn room, the pigeon tilts its head sidelong at Gwen, as if considering her carefully. Well, as carefully as a pigeon can. Josie, aside from that one resigned bit of commentary, doesn't seem to acknowledge it at all.

"Hmmm~" The coat is a mess, she'll have to wash it later. Carefully. Along with everything else she's got on. "Maybe so, but I've never seen such an... articulated one before." Did she know she could sick of the smell of beer? Apparently so.

Oh, right. Josie has, perhaps, been on the road a little too long (and been at a few too many dig sites, etc etc) to have much in the way of modesty left, but she does, as she glances sidelong at Gwen, pause a moment. At least she still has her shirt on. "Oh," is all she says, before looking away, non-verbally making the space for Gwen to escape into the alleged bathroom.

Josie, meanwhile, sets about changing -- yes, she'll still have to wash, yes, she'll have to wash this too, but she'll be hanged before she spends another second with her clothes stuck to her skin like this.

She's changed and in the midst of rewrapping a bandage on her right hand by the time Gwen re-emerges. What skin peeks out from under the half-wrapped cloth does not... look very healthy or normal.

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

"Yeah," Gwen says, bobbing her head. "Reluctantly, really. She often prods me to go look into things for her nowadays, so retirement's kinda... not quite the best word. More like 'unable to be out and about'." The sun was never kind to Frea, it seemed, even under all the clothing she wore.

"That in itself is a secret." Gwen puts a finger to her lips. "A life well-lived will always come with secrets, especially when you start early."

It's definitely well-articulated, moving hand, moving and reacting the same as any in a way that would be impossible without some sort of trickery or sleight of hand.

As for the shower itself, it takes a while. First she's got to shrug off all her clothes, get them washed, get herself washed, just... all the things a person needs to do when allowed to shower for the first time in a while. At least she doesn't have to worry about long hair.

"Coming ou-" Opening the door with much cleaner (or as clean as one can get in a shorter frame of time), Gwen interrupts Josie in the middle of bandaging. "Uh- sorry."

It's probably notable that the young woman doesn't flinch at all. "When did you get that?" SInce Josie was all too happy to ask her questions, well, Gwen's going to be free about asking hers. "Looks like it's had enough time to heal, but are you putting salve on it when you can? You don't want scar tissue to build up on something like a hand."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Josie's brow crinkles. "Reluctantly, huh..." The rest of what Gwen says clinches it. She can fill in most of the rest of the blanks from there. "I should pay her a visit sometime... well, once the blockade ends and things are wrapped up around here. It's been a while." Her expression turns that much more thoughtful, as she gazes towards somewhere in the middle distance.

She's hardly displeased at Gwen's response. Her mouth turns upwards into a smile just a little shy of what someone might term 'fox-like'. "Clever, clever," she comments, lips parting briefly in a grin. "Kiddo, I like you."

With that settled, Gwen gets first dibs -- if Josie's right and she's rather sure she /is/, the kid should get first shot anyway. There's nothing wrong on Josie's end other than the (ugh) stickiness and smell.

She's changed into a somewhat loose simple white dress, the hem reaching almost to the rough floorboard. Her clothes are in a heap and will take some scrubbing, but that's something she'll worry about later. "Ah--?" She glances up sharply, abandoning her work for the moment.

"..." She regards Gwen for a moment, steadily. "It's about two years old -- an accident during an excavation. It didn't heal well, I suppose, but my fingers still work." She curls the fingers experimentally, as if to demonstrate. "It could be worse. I just can't use it like I used to." Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. Oh well? "It has been more painful lately, though. I should get some more salve, when I can." The trip east had been a little rough.

She's silent for a few moments, working to finish wrapping it properly. "So, what's your story? Do you feel like telling me about your arm?" she says, without looking up. "Don't worry -- it's just professional interest. I'm not going to tell on you or something."

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

Seeing Josie's expression, Gwen waves her hands. "She's not really sick or anything like that. Just... her specialty's the Badlands, and, well, going around in the sun just isn't a good idea for her anymore. Not that it ever was, but don't let her know I said that." The woman saved her life. The least Gwen can do is avoid even entertaining the idea that she's getting 'too old'. "Yeah... I admit, I'm kinda nervous, but she's in a good town. As good as one can find in the Badlands, anyway. The memory cubes allow me to know how she's doing, anyhow."

After the shower, Gwen looks at Josie's bandaged hand, taking it in without that much in the way of shock or disgust. It's just.... there.

At Josie's words, Gwen tilts her head at the news. "Yikes. Yeah, I've been lucky the times I've had to go on one. That's tough! But yeah. Honey and aloe. Whichever you can get access to. That's the stuff I used for mine. I mean, mine are a lot older, so they've faded quite a bit, but they'd probably be a lot worse if I hadn't tried those."

At being asked about her own arm, Gwen looks and her hand, then, realizing she has the freedom too, relishes in the simple pleasures of running the fingers of her right hand through newly cleaned hair. "Well, I guess I can be frank, then. Lost my right arm, as well as my family, to a house fire when I was about five or so. So, uh, yeah. Though I've never had to deal with hands. Auntie Frea helped me install this, uh," She gestures to the right ARM. "I'm afraid there's not much else I can really say without being boring or letting go of too many secrets."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Ever so slightly, Josie frowns. It's a thoughful frown, the sort of frown that could be accompanied by a 'now that's interesting' except in this case it doesn't actually get even that. "Ahaaa," Josie murmurs, drawing the sound out. "Got it. Still, if I end up in the area... Oh, tell her Josephine Lovelace said hello, if you leave her a message. It's been a long time."

It's Gwen's lack of surprise that is a little telling, itself. Though the suspicion is quickly confirmed.

"Hmm, just those two?" Josie tilts her head slightly to the left, and regrets this because her hair -- which is somewhat stiff from the beer-bath -- brushes against her shoulder and damn does she want that shower. "I'd been using something medicated, but that sounds like it could be cheaper." Which, as the archaeologist's tone suggests: good thing. "I'll give it a shot!" When she has money.

Her eyes darken, her lips pressing thin as she looks the girl over. Just a kid at the time, huh. "...I'm sorry to hear that. ...Guess that's not very comforting, though," she appends, smiling a little wryly as she glances away, shaking her head. "Glad you had family, though."

She looks back at Gwen a moment later, unfolding as she stands from the edge of what can only be loosely called a bed. "The ARM? I think that's what it is, anyway -- I /am/ an archaeologist, and I've seen a few ancient machines before!" The best word for her expression here is probably 'mock-affronted'. "I don't suppose I could take a closer look?" She smiles, a little lopsidedly, as if amused at herself. "You can say no, though. I'm curious, I really am, but y'know... a girl's got a right to have some secrets."

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

Gwen's lips widen in a grin. "Sure thing. She'd probably appreciate the fact that you're still out and about." Gwen's definnnitely not going to tell Josephine that some of the retirement had to do with her herself. Getting decades of research burnt down due to your kid throwing ARM lightning at some bandits kind of throws everything in a bittersweet light, if any sort of light besides 'what the heck'.

"There's more out there that probably work a loooot better, but sometimes you make do with what you go lying around," Gwen says. As if aloe and honey were something always around. "Your stuff probably works just as good." She itches the space belong her ear. "Medicated cream, eh? They've really come out with some neat stuff lately. It's probably why your hand is in good shape movement wise."

Honey wasn't always the best thing to put on as a child when it was hot outside. But it was a dry heat- the sort of heat that stole moisture from the skin if someone was outside too long.

At Josephine's indication of family, Gwen shakes her head. "Oh, Auntie Frea's not my real auntie. I just call her that because she couldn't stand the thought of being called 'mom'. She adopted me. Pretty swell of her, wasn't it?" Her wide smile reaches up into her eyes, which glint with good humor. "You don't have to comfort me. I'm here due to the mercy of a lot of people in a place where mercy can be hard to find. My parents probably put in a word for me in the great beyond, considering how my luck's been pretty good most of my life." Most of it. Until she LENT MONEY TO A BUM.

"Guess there's no hiding it." Gwen shugs, then rolls up her sleeve. "As far as Auntie Frea and I know, it's an ARM. Tried to sync with me and everything when I touched it. She's the one who found it and all." BInding the sleeve back with her sleeve garter, Gwen displays her right arm for Josephine to see, gun-metal grey sheen and all. "Go ahead, knock yourself out. It's basically a part of me, so don't try to... uh, actually *do* anything you wouldn't to my left arm."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

It might be the ticket -- if there's any on the market around Adlehyde, for a low low price. "I think it uses heal berries, or something like that." Which would explain the price. Josie shrugs. "Botany was never my cup of tea, so I don't know for sure."

Honey sure sounds sticky for an injury. It's probably best used when she has some down time. Still, any port in a storm.

Here, Josie seems a little surprised. She blinks. "Oh, she isn't? --Ohh, I see. That was kind of her! Life can be rough in the badlands, I've spent some time in those areas, even passed by some towns that had it worse." As in, there wasn't anything left but the husks of buildings and sand filling in what had once had life. She smiles a touch unevenly, her gaze briefly skirting the younger girl. "Everyone needs a little luck in life. I'd say your parents put in more than a few words."

Josie pauses, half a second. Then, with no further ado, she takes ahold of Gwen's arm by the wrist. Gently, though. "Don't worry," she says, sliding a glance over at Gwen, constrained in spite of the earnest interest shining in her dark eyes. "I'm not going to disassemble it." With care, she tests the bend of the wrist. "Interesting, I'd almost say this was human, if it weren't for... well." The obvious. "And you say it... synchronized with you?" Her tone might be mild, but there's just that extra bit there. She's excited.

She's heard of such things. Seen it, even, but never experienced it. Slowly, she pulls Gwen's arm out to its full extent. "Can you hold it like that? I'd use my right and hold it, but, as you can see, it's giving me trouble." She gingerly wiggles her fingers of that hand. "...So, it's just like your other arm? It seems like it moves normally." All the while, Josie seems to almost... glow. Metaphorically. "This is fantastic!"

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

"I'm gonna have to check that stuff out when I get a good paycheck going. Looks like it goes on nicely, too. No stinky smells, even." What's notable is that, since coming out of the shower, some scarring along the side of Gwen's face is a bit more visible, staring along the top whatever bit of skin peeks of her shoulder, running up her neck, and ending before it hits her ear. It's an odd pattern, suggesting her burns' locations were dictated by what was covered and what wasn't- probably fortunate as well, since they're areas that could be more or less covered. The short hair also shows its true 'colors', as it were, as she towels her head, no longer confined to the secretly careful layering of her brushing and styling and revealing odd uneven spots where hair refuses to grow near the back.

Combed a certain way, she just looks like a girl with short hair. The handkerchief, when she ties it around her neck, covers most of the areas- the rest could've been hidden by some sort of ointment. Unfortunately, Gwen's hair and skin ointments are... not here. Gulliver's bag has them.

Gwen's grinning slips into a slant. "Wellll. As much as I'd like to paint my auntie as the perfect saint, that picture does her no justice. She benefits from me as much as I do her, really. I hope you've never had to deal with her cooking. It's flat out terrible. She even admits to it."

"I'll slap you if you do," Gwen warns, if with a bit of good nature to her tone. "Not everything *can* be dissembled, besides. Just the parts that are more for, uh, shooty things. The rest might as well be like flesh." She pauses a beat. Wait. Nonono, don't pull that comparison, this lady is someone you JUST MET, GWEN. "I-I mean in terms of how I can make it look like flesh! See?" She draws it away from Josephine's grasp and knocks it against a bedpost, stifling a wince each time it hits with a wide smile. "Just like good... ol' fashioned... metal replacement... arm."

Exactly. When Josephine gets ahold of it again, Gwen steadies it for the most part, simply happy to have someone look at it as something other than 'a possible sign of demons, curses, doom, etc', but after a while, even that starts to wane.

"U-um." She slowly draws the arm away. "Yeah. There's... really not much to it. I'd show you it more, but, remember what I said about a girl needing her secrets? This is one of them."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

The girl certainly... has a number of scars. Josie is silent as her dark-eyed gaze traces the meandering paths of scar tissue where they appear, here and there. She /had/ said there had been a fire, though... and medical knowledge can only go so far with burns. There's only a few other routes to handling that sort of wound -- or any matter of the body -- and they aren't reliably available, especially not up where it seems Gwen lived.

Josie smiles a little lopsidedly, her gaze focused briefly on a point somewhere in the middle distance. "...That sounds like Frea, unfortunately. Still, all the same, it was kind of her."

White eyebrows lift. "Slap me? Isn't that a little too much?" Josie mock-chides in response. "Besides, even if I want to, you're still using it. That would be rude!" She smiles, a touch ruefully, and looks at Gwen again. "...I guess it's too much to hope that it's not one-of-a-kind?" she asks, ever-the-hopeful, it seems. She releases her grip, though, taking a step backwards -- a briefly quizzical expression on her face as Gwen hurriedly backtracks -- and watches, as the younger girl demonstrates how metal and fake her arm is.

"I... see," Josie says, crinkling her brow. Her gaze jumps from ARM to girl and back, but she doesn't say a thing more on /this/ aspect, only resumes her inspection with her fingertips. "Hm..."

'A girl needs her secrets', apparently.

Which Gwen ultimately reminds her of, quite obviously having enough of being treated like an artifact for the time being. "Oh, already?" Josie says with a shake of her head, but doesn't do a thing to force the matter -- or Gwen. "It's fine! Perhaps I could take a look some other time? It really is fascinating, you know. It's a shame people can be so small-minded about old technology..." All the same, she takes a few steps back, enough to give Gwen back some personal space.

<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.

"Augh, you had to deal with that?" Gwen openly winces, rubbing her face with her left hand. "I'm surprised she lasted so long eating her own cooking. I guess it goes to show that you can get used to just about anything."

"Wouldn't you if someone invaded your private space on that level?" The courier laughs. "I mean, it's still a part of me. It's been long enough that I pretty much can't see it as anything but. Seeing someone else move around parts and such gets me queasy sometimes." But not always. Some days, seeing blood drawn through a needle is enough for Gwen to feel faint. Other days...

Sometimes you just don't care enough to really think about it.

"I don't know, really. Maybe there were thousands of these at one point? Or maybe only one. No one can use it except me, so I guess this one's mine. Or however that process works." It was a process that saved her life. A machine that sync'ed with her on a level so basic, that it matched her heartbeat. She's lucky.

She wants to keep thinking it's luck or fate.

"Yeah, I just... well." Fixing her sleeve in place, Gwen looks over at Josie. "You already know more than probably anyone in this time at this point. I understand it's got some potential for science, but unless there's more, and unles *those* sync to someone, there's not much of a chance of recreating what happened."

There's components Gwen preferred Josephine doesn't see, just yet. An arm is one thing. A heart...?

Hearts are different matters entirely.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

"Only once or twice. I, ah..." Josie pauses, then grimaces mildly, demonstratively. "Well, you understand, right? I made a few excuses..."

Josie lifts her left hand, palm out. "Fair, fair." She smiles, though. "It won't stop me from wondering, of course, but I get you." It wouldn't make her very happy if someone did something to her arm like that, even with consent -- though admittedly she has a hard time placing herself into Gwen's /exact/ predicament.

Still, there's the shape of the thing, and that's enough, sometimes.

"It's hard to know what existed, really. There's not much information," Josie says, tapping Gwen's upper arm with her index finger once, "beyond a few scraps. Filgaia's history's in disarray, I'm afraid," she says, with a smile that's far too sad to really be a smile. "Still, we do what we can, and perhaps someday we'll have answers."

The bird over in the window has been watching all the while, fluffed out where it rests with the sun shining down upon it. Rather suddenly, it rouses itself and hops down onto the floor below with a soft clack of its claws on the floorboards. Penelope, the bird, begins her slow and idle trot across the room towards Gwen and Josie.

"Even just knowing is enough, even if it can't be recreated," Josie opines, but shrugs all the same. "But, still. Let me know if you change your mind. I promise I won't do anything except look!" No screwdrivers, that's a pledge.

"But, anyway..." Josie says, kneeling carefully to pluck the wandering Penelope from the floor, "That's all I wanted to pull you aside for. I noticed it, after all." Lifting a bird-adorned hand up, she adds, with a brief grin, "And besides, you looked like you could use a washup after all that!"