2018-10-27: Just Like The Real Thing

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  • Log: Just Like The Real Thing
  • Cast: Loren Voss, Leah Sadalbari
  • Where: Bledavik - Royal Palace
  • Date: October 27th 2018
  • Summary: In preparation for upcoming operations, Loren does some maintenance on Leah. Loren asks a stupid question. Leah speaks to the temperature.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    The medical bay in the hangar beneath the palace -- those sections long since retrofitted by Gebler and Solaris, as a part of their continuing operations in this region -- is more elaborate and better equipped than medical aboveground would suggest. Set up with a surgical suite that's nearly (but not as) cutting edge as those attached to Gebler back in Etrenank, several side suites, restoration units, and more, the base here is equipped for everything short of complete evisceration.
    And even with that, they could probably make a good try of it.

    It's also, importantly, set up with everything necessary for those in need of cybernetic support. Actual initial installation is as always best done back in the capital, but even that isn't outside the scope of support here.

    Cybernetics may be uncommon among Solaris' finest, but those who possess them need routine maintenance.
    Leah isn't the first to darken Loren's doorstep in need of minor repairs, but she's certainly the first he's ever known from before such things were necessary.

    "Servo's worn down oddly. ...Leah, were you overusing this?" He doesn't nag, though: he just frowns tightlipped beneath the mask and works at extracting the small part from its position in her arm.

    "I'll get that replaced. Don't move it -- not that you can." Pushing his chair back from the white-draped table where her arm lies opened to the sterile room, he reaches for a nearby white-and-silver container unit and pulls it open with a white-gloved hand. "Spares were..."

    Full service like this requires a sterile room. In the field it's possible to make spot repairs and even slot in replacements as needed. But best practices for maintainance calls for the clean room approach.

    He mutters, sorting through the components in the unit. Who sorted these last, and what in the world were they thinking?

<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.

Field repairs are well and good, but... Now and then, there's the matter of detailed work that must be addressed. It's a simple fact of life. Well, life? Such as it is.

The extent of Leah's cybernetics may be surprising, or it may not; few among even those who know tend to realize just how much of the Watcher is mechanical by this point, from actual limbs to the framework attached to her bones that allows her to use these powerful prosthetics without losing them or taking a great toll on the remains of her body. Of her arms, the right is artificial all the way down from where it attaches to her shoulder, the port taking up the rest of that. ...The other is merely replaced below the elbow, though its footprint is wider than that. Then there's the matter of her right leg, likewise completely mechanical. ...Where there's flesh, however, even Solarian medicine could not get rid of all of the scarring.

To Loren's question, the blue-haired woman simply answers, "Yes. There was a wall I needed to get through, for one thing. ...You'll see that the cords and cabling casing are damaged, as well. That metal forest was problematic."

Even in attire for maintenance, she seems calm, unperturbed by what's going on. ...She doesn't even wince at the feedback in her nerves.

"...I don't plan to move," she says after that, staring forward with her single eye.

"Having trouble with supplies again?"

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    His voice is, of course, muffled a touch by the mask covering the lower half of his face. Precautionary, particularly when doing repairwork of this caliber. "A wall, huh... did you punch through it?" He hesitates before continuing, still sorting through the sealed components in the drawer. "...You should be more careful. Let one of the Lambs do it next time."

    She asks him if he's having trouble finding what he's looking for. His irritation may for a moment become almost visible. "I didn't sort it last," he says, defensive. "Someone else did. I don't know what their organizational scheme even was, but-- there!"

    Loren might be briefly a little triumphant, to go by the story his shoulders alone tell. Some of the tension has eased off. He pushes off with a foot, scooting back over to the table.

    "This should just take a moment," he says, unsealing the part and, with the tools on the table, starts slotting the component in.

    "...Huh. They really are damaged," he says, eying the parts she'd said were likely also damaged. "This actuator's suspect, too." He taps it briefly with a probe, trying to suss out whether it's been cracked or not.

    "Not sure. I'll replace it anyway."

    Which means another return to the parts storage, as he again sorts through another person's lousy work of organization in search of replacements.

    "...We're heading to Elru soon, aren't we."

<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.

Of course it is. Leah has one too, of course; it wouldn't do to get fragments of machinery inhaled, compromise her respiratory system further. Theoretically, she could be put under for something like this, given the unpleasantness that it could cause if there's more damage than expected... But she hasn't been, and doesn't intend to be.

"The Lambs weren't strong enough to get through. ...And more pushed through than punched."

Visible, audible; it's clear regardless. His defensiveness prompts a distant laugh, quiet as Leah glances up to the ceiling. "Probably there wasn't one. Gazels don't usually get prosthetics, after all. Usually regeneration is good enough." 'Usually.' ...But Loren finds it, triumphant, and Leah nods, glancing Loren's way as he begins to change out the component. The arm is shut down, of course, an important precaution, nothing but dead weight for the moment, thankfully supported by the chair.

"Not surprising," Leah answers. "...There wasn't much I could do about the forest," she admits. "The protective coverings--to say nothing of my gloves--didn't do a thing against blades that sharp." She doesn't shrug; her muscles start to make the motion that would be a shrug, but her arms are too heavy without power to manage it. ...Her tongue clicks against her teeth, instead.

"Yes, that's correct. The preparations are largely in place by now. Soon enough we'll be setting out." She pauses, for a moment. "...Elru's very different from Ignas. Whatever you're expecting... you can assume it'll be worse."

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    Also -- on Loren's end at least -- contaminate delicate electronics with the moisture in his breath. Some of this requires a little close work.
    But in the end, it's mostly plug in and replace. Anyone with a certification -- a weekend's worth of training at least -- can do this, if they've got the medical basics to begin with. Actual installation is the hard one, followed by complete artificial limb replacement, for which Leah would have to be sedated. But this?
    This is pretty standard.

    "'Not strong enough'. Ha. I've seen a few of them at work... but I guess you'd have to get 'lucky' enough to work alongside one of them." Xantia, for instance, has demonstrated startling feats of strength before according to reports and observation. Most Lambs though are simply Lambs... and admittedly Xantia, a probable Shevati agent, isn't the finest example to use here.

    "That's still not a good excuse," he gripes. "It's basic organizational skills..." He trails out, though, as he picks up on the undercurrent of her words.
    'Usually'.

    "..."

    He finds what he's looking for more quickly. The larger components are easier to pick out.

    "This shouldn't take long. Anything else you've noticed? I didn't see anything on my review. I'll run another diagnostic to be safe."

    It's just a matter of removing the worn components.

    "That forest was creepy. Moved like the real things, looked like metal. I guess the seeds might be of use though," he comments, adjusting the cabling's positioning as he hooks it back into place.

    The actuator's difficult to remove, itself. He ducks his head in a short, curt nod. "Guess we'll be taking Gears, if it's as bad as that. ...Is there any intel," available to him that is, "or is that all classified?"

<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.

Leah has required re-replacement a few times, in her operations. ...It's not a particularly pleasant experience. Her prosthetics are not as modular as some.

"That's true. A few of them are. They have a remarkable diversity, don't they? Especially now. ...Now that the pieces on the board are moving."

That cryptic statement is delivered with a little wryness, a little distance--but she drops from it quickly enough, letting out a little sigh of amusement. "Basic organizational skills. So you'd think, at least. ...Of course, if they're improperly organized, and only one person can find what they need, that makes the one valuable enough to keep around, doesn't it?"

She doesn't follow up on the matter of what she said, yet. Instead, she nods along as if to acknowledge his plan to get to work.

"No, nothing else relevant at the moment. If there are any other issues, they're internal." And thus, not really in the sensory data she receives as a rule. ...Of course, there is the matter of the pain of the installation sites, and the general aches--particularly in the bones to which they're attached. But she doesn't bother with mentioning it; it's not a solvable problem.

Not through this, of course.

"It was interesting. The Metal Demons' attempt at creation; you almost believe they could manage to replace the life that exists on this world. Maybe they could make it last longer than the Lambs have managed, so far." An amused look, then a shake of her head. "The seeds should be useful. If nothing else, they represent an unexpected element, which is always useful."

The muscles in Leah's remaining upper arm twitch as Loren works, the nerves impacted by feedback.

"We'll be bringing our Gears, yes. We may even have the chance to use them. For intel..." She glances to Loren. "It's quite classified," she answers simply. "But I have the power to decide if you're allowed to hear it. Pretend to be surprised at your briefing; we wouldn't want to disappoint the Commander when he has a chance to release the information properly." A beat, "...You particularly wouldn't want that, hm?"

A beat. "Be prepared for Veruni agents out there; they will look like humans, as you've seen yourself, but can possess unpredictable abilities, not least of which is a raw physical strength that we still aren't capable of explaining. In point of fact, our intel on Elru is much more lacking than any of your superiors will wish to admit--and that's with the information I've gathered, with Elru having been my focus for some time."

"Things are bad out there, Ren. The Lamb nations have all failed or will soon; there will be few assets of which we can make use beyond those that are already en route. ...And we can never count out the possibility that the Red Demon will appear again."

"However, your field reports have given us a good sense of many of the Lambs we expect to arrive to meddle in these matters. We'll need to make use of that information."

"...As for simple matters of geography and logistics, you'll have some maps and reports to read on the trip over."

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    Even the parts he's replacing now are fairly generic across most prosthetics -- if she'd had the misfortune to have damaged anything custom (the 'black box' components), she'd have to have the whole thing swapped out, which he's not licensed to do. Fortunately, it's nothing so severe -- just some worn components and frayed cabling. A suspect actuator.

    He glances up. "Understood. I'll check to make sure the repairs are complete on the Schiehallion." A moment passes while he returns to his work; he's still listening.
    Uncertain of what to make of what she's offering -- a leg up, effectively -- until she makes on particular comment.
    Fortunately it's not when he's in the middle of detaching the actuator, because he does make a choking sound behind the mask and then quickly protest, eyes wide as he stares at her: "L-Leah! It's not-- it-- he's the Commander!"

    In other words, he doesn't have a snowball's chance in the desert, largely because of the man's rank. But also because the man's quite definitely taken.

    He glances down again, shoulders hunched, focusing on the repairs as if it were the only thing that mattered in his life.

    How did she even guess? Did I do or say something that gave it away?

    She changes the subject at least.

    "I've run into one, yeah," he says, once he's finished with it, sealing up all the replaced parts for recycling. "It stands to reason that they'll be able to field more agents closer to their center of operations... Probably more of those Golems, too."
    A pause follows. "...You're serious," he says, his tone flat in disbelief. "I know we took a huge lose in Elru during operations there... I guess it's seven years ago. Still, to think we don't know all that much about it's..." A hard pill to swallow, for someone who just assumes that at least the higher-ups have a good grasp on the state of the world and everything that's going on.
    He hasn't been disillusioned, yet -- still bears the shine of faith.

    "..."

    He gazes at her across the table, silent for a moment. He'd expected 'bad' as a matter of course. And still.

    The count would likely be at least three nations he can think of off the top of his head that failed in just his own lifetime. Such news hardly makes much impact among the citizens of Etrenank -- just another sign of the nature of Lambs. But he'd read up before taking his assignment, knowing he'd need to know the basics just to fit in. "It's just Elesius, right. And that's going to be too far to the south of us, even if we did have the time to make use of them as a base of operations." To wit: infiltrate their society and bend it to their needs, as in Aveh.

    He doesn't want to think about the Red Demon. As he'd thought before: between the Veruni, the Metal Demons, the so-called Sorcery Globe (if that's a threat at all), the crumbling societies, the Drifters themselves, and who-knows-what else, they're going to have their work cut out for them.

    "So we just need to think about who we can use and who's likely to be a problem. ...Like that pilot of SLIDE-1." He ducks his head, turning back to his work: he's attached a device to the inner workings of the arm and is currently, from the looks of it, fiddling with the settings. "--Right. I'm going to start diagnostics on the artificial nerve fibers. Let me know when you feel something." Assuming everything's set up right, she should feel a faint tingling sensation in her fingertips.

<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.

Luckily, at least, Leah's prosthetics are designed to be functional and durable, sacrificing some extra features in that pursuit. ...Well, as much as luck has to do with this. It does at least give Leah a chance to see for herself how Loren works in these contexts. 'See', in any case; she doesn't have a great view of all of it.

"Good," Leah replies about the Gear. The matter of his reaction, however, makes it all entirely worth it--Leah actually laughs as he protests, though it's a good-natured laugh for what that's worth. "You're still very honest in a way, aren't you?" she asks, turning her head towards him for a moment. "Besides, it's not as if there's a rule against looking. It's part of the benefit of being among the elite."

But she relents on that matter for now. ...For now, anyway, as Loren focuses on his work. But his disbelief...

"We knew a great deal, and still do about human settlements there; I could tell you quite a bit about the history of the continent. ...But the fact is, we don't have a reliable means of gathering intelligence within the Veruni Control Zones, and our operations there remain smaller than elsewhere as a result of those same losses."

"It does provide opportunity, though. Keep that in mind."

She nods a moment later, though. "Precisely. Arctica, Slayheim, Garlyle--all gone. ...And officially, of course, these 'Veruni' are merely a story."

"...You've thinking along the right lines, though," she remarks. "And the two may well be the same; a problem directed at an enemy is an asset, after all. Ideally, we can rely on these Lambs to act where our resources are thin, and step in to nudge matters as necessary. Ideally."

She pauses, at that; her fingers twitch, and she looks forward. "...Yes, I feel some sensation," she says. "...All five fingers," concentrating.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    They're durable. That's enough, for her purposes. Unlike a certain Element, Leah's work takes her to places where an immediate return to base is not guaranteed: the longer she can manage without an overhaul, the better.
    His guess about the black box components is that they're likely redundancies and fail-safes, something saved for emergency situations and custom-built for her particular needs.

    He's still honest in a way. That's one way of putting it, between his honest action that had tipped her off before and his honest reaction now.
    His shoulders tense, as if he's only gaining in discomfort the more she addresses this line of conversation.
    "...No, there isn't," he's obligated to agree. It's fine to look, even if that's as far as it goes...

    Fortunately, she doesn't press.

    "I suppose there are some survivors of some of the civilizations," e.g. not Slayheim, "scratching out a living in the hills or however," he comments, as she goes on. "But I guess that's true. Without enough people and across wide enough distance, it becomes impractical.
    Unless Defense really would like to argue for wasting their yearly funding on it, which would be a hard sell even under current circumstances.

    And navigating the Control Zones is outright hazardous, particularly if the agent isn't very skilled at keeping their profile, as they say, low.

    "Yeah. Though, the people out there likely are quite familiar with the reality of the Veruni." The ones outside the Control Zones, even.

    The lights on the little screen flash green -- as far as the machine can tell, nerve fibers are functional, but it's always best to get the feedback as a failsafe, just in case something's gone particularly haywire with the junctions.
    It happens, sometimes.

    "Enemy of my enemy? Hm. Well, I suppose that one could be an asset as long as he's pointed in the direction of Mother. The lot of them, really."

    She reports back. Some sensation. "Okay... sounds good. I'm going to dial it up just to check sensory range. Let me know when it feels moderate and when it feels intense. There shouldn't be any pain."

<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.

That could certainly be one of the reasons. ...It's a mystery, of course.

Leah 'hmms' a little at Loren's tension--but when he agrees, she seems to be satisfied with that answer for the moment, giving a knowing sort of nod. She doesn't press harder for the moment, but she certainly doesn't do anything to dispel the sense that she's thinking something.

"Certainly," Leah agrees. "Some have made their way to other places... Some have ended up with the Veruni. But it's as you say. Impractical." And why would they waste the money on dead Lambs? goes unasked. It may seem obvious, though.

"Quite," Leah answers. "Familiar with, and afraid of. For good reason; a Veruni operative is highly dangerous. ...But you may not meet any if you stay out of their territory; they rarely leave it in any numbers."

Nerve fibers functional, sure; Leah closes her eye again as she considers the input she's getting. "It's the best use for them, at the moment. ...And we can continue gathering data, in the process. Make efficient use of our time."

She pauses, at that, breathes in and out. "...Mm... very light. No... Light in the left..."

After a little more tinkering, she inclines her head. "Ah, yes." Her foot twitches, suddenly, a slight whirring noise present as some mechanics in her arm spin back up. "Here, more intense. Particularly..." It's sort of a dull conversation. this part at least. If nothing else, it seems rote to her.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    Even when he was a kid she had been more like an older sibling who couldn't leave well enough alone.
    Though, at least back then it had been about anything other than the by-their-nature fraught matters of the heart.

    There simply isn't enough reason to follow after a scattered flock of Lambs. Either another nation will eventually form from the shattered countries... or it won't. Maybe this is the end for that section of Filgaia.

    At times he wonders if the whole world really could be on the edge of collapse.
    Or, at least, if the world other than Solaris is.
    It certainly puts a damper on plans to enlighten the Lambs if they all kill themselves first.

    "You don't need to say it again -- I know," he mutters, beetling his brow while he works. "They're a problem even command hasn't been able to eliminate. And I've faced one of their operatives myself, remember?"

    But he doesn't press the subject more than that, particularly once he starts testing her nerve response and sensation.

    It's all very, very rote.
    Yet essential. Particularly since she -- they -- may see combat soon, and outside support from the Tzadkiel, it may be the last proper tune-up she will get for a while.

    "Light in the left? Understood. Shouldn't be lighter in that one." He makes a few adjustments on the device, tuning her feedback. "That should be more like it."

    And he proceeds, slowly amping up the sensation.

    "Got it. Moderate intensity check is green."

    Until it hits that peak that makes her twitch. He'll take that as a 'yes' -- she definitely felt that. "Maximum intensity check is green. Looks like it's good to go."

    After that, it's just a matter of detaching the device.
    And after that, closing up her arm and restoring its power functions.

    "Give it a try now."

<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.

Young, full of ambition and optimism--is it any surprise Leah was a meddler? It was a consistent trait of hers, often in ways that caught people off-guard... Though back then, sure. Loren had been young. ...Leah had been young, for that matter.

The matters of Lamb geopolitics are as they are, though--Leah, while she calls this a serious matter, seems to have a quiet ease in her discussion; even as she mentions these dire tidings, it doesn't make her waver, doesn't slow her down. But...

"And that's valuable experience for where we're going," Leah replies to Loren. "...Which is why I mention it. Your reports on her are going to be useful if something goes wrong."

The matter of her nerve response is not simple, exactly, it's easy for it to take over a conversation; that much focus, anyway. She remains responsive, rattling off her answers as if entirely accustomed to this idea, despite the assuredly awkward situation of being partially dressed in a medical office with someone she knew prior to his medical training.

"That's more even," Leah responds at first, not even closing her eyes to focus. ...At the maximum level though, she twitches enough that she shifts in her seat slightly, and the light glints off of the chain about her neck.

It's easy to miss, of course, easy not to look at... but she does have a pair of rings, there. One larger than the other.

"Good," Leah says. "These things are heavy when they're nonfunctional." She shifts, first her neck, as if stretching, and then--

Lifts the full-metal arm, hand rising about midway before she curls it into a fist, uncurls it. The faint sound of the servos and motors within is clear, this close, in this much quiet. "Just like the real thing," Leah pronounces, her voice dry.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    His reports are going to be useful.

    "Mm."

    That was praise, wasn't it? He shouldn't even need praise. He's a first class citizen, his own existence should be sufficient. ...It's not that he hasn't received praise before from his superior officers -- or even his instructors, back in Jugend. It's not like he's some repeat failure, given the odds he's had to grapple with.
    And yet, it's as if it rings hollow, even from her.

    "Her kind are prone to some sort of illness, apparently," he speaks at last, not so much lifting his head to look at Leah. "There might be something we could do about that."

    Before, ultimately, the matter of finalizing the repairs and tuning on her arm takes precedent. He has to see to her care and make sure everything's functioning at a baseline normal, or otherwise keep trying until it does.

    Or call in a specialist, if it comes to that.

    "Better? Good. I'm not seeing any errors on my end," he says, lifting his head as the intensity rises to look at her.

    'Watch their body language. The body's more honest than a patient's words -- shame, fear, or even pride can keep someone from mentioning they have a problem.'

    So the instructor had said.

    'Watch them and keep their problems from becoming your own.'

    He glances down at the screen every now and then -- to monitor stability, to make sure nothing suddenly reads poorly -- but he's watching her face.

    Was watching her face until a glint steals his attention.
    Oh. It's her necklace.

    A pair of rings.

    He's staring still at the pair of rings, at the larger of the two. Everything else seems to blot out for him, as all the while a cold numb sensation winds inward from the edges.

    His--

    A tiny 'beep' alerting that the test has ceased drags him back into the here and now.

    Nothing abnormal. Nothing else to do except restore her power.

    He's quiet as she tests out the arm, briefly gazing at her sidelong in a manner that could be mistaken for shy by someone who didn't know him well. Shoulders hunched, he then skims through the full data readout from the test, searching for any blip.
    There's nothing.
    And he's not paying as much close attention as he's attempting to affect, anyway. He knows if there had been an issue it would have come up already in the scan, he would have seen it on her face.
    Probably, she would have even told him.

    'Just like the real thing'.

    Loren lifts his head. "...Is it cold?" he blurts out, in much the way a younger him might have, apparently half-rising from whatever reverie had gripped him.
    Before he makes a full return, promptly grimaces and shakes his head. "That was stupid. Forget it." He pauses, setting the device back down. "...I think that's everything that I can do. You'll probably want to check with the cybernetics lead to find out if there's anything you'll need for north Elru's climate. I only know maintenance."

<Pose Tracker> Leah Sadalbari has posed.

Praise is one way to put it. A warning is another--the reward for good work, after all, is more work. That's what he chose, and that's what he can expect. ...But she notices the way he talks; she's detached herself, at the moment, making her awareness simple. Illness...

"Sounds like it's up your alley. Collect more information on it if you get the chance, but don't risk yourself for it; it's a secondary priority at the moment."

No errors, no apparent need for a specialist. As for her body language?

...A doctor can often read things that others can't. But the truth is? Other than her obviously increased detachment as compared to usual, she's nearly impossible to read. She doesn't show much of anything at all, or maybe there isn't anything to show. Her expression is blank, her body still. The screen continues to show stable results. ...But there--the way he starts to stare, the way he goes still...

In the silence as the text scrolls, Leah's single good eye turns, and she watches Loren before looking forward again.

Beep.

'...Is it cold?'

Loren blurts out, and before Leah can answer, he says it was stupid. She looks his way again... and slowly, puts her half-mechanical arm up over her chest, hand resting on the chain the rings hand on. She is not always suited to delicate work, but in this, she is delicate.

"They're already tuned for Elru; I've spent a lot of time operating there. But you did good work."

She remains quiet for another few moments, as if looking through him.

"...It's not cold," she answers, at length. "It's not hot. ...It's not anything. I receive feedback based on pressure, mostly. Damage."

"The absence of a thing isn't cold or warm, light or dark. You get used to it, eventually. ...But the sense of what's missing is always there. You never forget what was, and what isn't anymore."

She speaks seriously, almost tonelessly, and then slides her eyes forward, and begins to stand.

"...So really... You tell me, if it's cold. I can't feel whether it is or not."

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

    His report is simple:

    "Understood."

    More than likely they'd have to infiltrate Veruni territory to learn more and that's simply something they can't afford to waste their time upon at the moment -- the Metal Demons are their priority, and all else on that Emperor-forsaken continent a distraction at least and an unneeded threat at worst.

    Of course, Leah would prove difficult to read. She's simply a blank slate -- no, not even that. The model of the perfect patient: at ease, experiencing no distress or discomfort.
    The kind that you never really get.

    But those fall by the wayside as he looks at her and -- it seems -- remains unaware of her attention on him.

    All down to the point where he asks a very stupid question, one usually slipped from the mouth of a child, or an idiot.
    He's not a child.

    "Oh. ...Right," he says, grimacing again as he remembers that little fact.

    "...Thank you." It comes more removed still.

    He looks up at her sharply, in the end.

    It's not anything. Just an absence, a void that seems to want to swallow up everything, as if that will at last plug the gap.
    Involuntarily, he shivers.

    "I see," Loren says, not meeting her eyes.

    You never do forget.

    "...It's not as cold as you'd expect. But it's still cold," he says.
    He's still honest, even all these years later.

    "I'll clean up in here. I expect you have places to be." With that he rises from his seat, turning his back on her as he gathers up the tools he's used.

    It may be what passes as a goodbye from him, these days.