She's confined. She hates being confined.
And she hates that she's let herself become confined. That even though she tells herself she's only doing it as a favour for him, it's the same as if he'd given her an order.
And that makes her kind of mad.
And she can't wander off and beat up stuff up to ease her frustrations, because she's confinedCue
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And he should know; he's reaped enough people on the edges of tall buildings to recognize unsafe conditions.
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Mel doesn't appear that concerned. "Safer than being out there attacked by lurks and furry beast things," she points out, pushing herself into a back flip to stand and face him.
"I don't know you."
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"You may be right about that. Since when did we get company? And, no, you don't."
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"You didn't hear?" Mel asks. He could be new, of course, but surely people have been told about the dangers as they arrive.
"Body was found a couple of days ago. Small child was eaten by... something. Then Zuko was attacked by these Magog creatures last night.
"I'm Mel," she adds, almost as an afterthought.
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Although, by the sound of it, he may very likely be needed again soon anyway.
"What happened to the body, Mel?" he asks, trying to sound casual.
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"...how long have you been here?"
He's acting suspicious. She's not a fan of suspicious.
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Rube looks like he's about to be sick. His knees buckle and he drops hard to the gravel.
"Bout a... bout a month, give or take," he mumbles.
Oh, God. This is why I was brought here, and I let that little kid down.
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"You must've been one'a the first like me an' Zuko," she says. "And you really missed the announcement and the ruttin' great pyre outside?"
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A fucking kid. Why did it have to be a kid, you bastard?
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Mel's not exactly hard hearted, but she's seen death (small d) before, and deals with it by... not buckling to the floro in front of strangers.
"Look, you need to get some water or something from 202?"
Does he even know about the common room if he has avoided all the meetings? She's not sure.
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"No, I'm fine. Thanks."
He puts his hands down to push himself up, the gravel cutting into his palms.
"I lost a daughter once, very young," he explains. "Not something you ever get over." Deep breath, strong exhale. "Name's Rube."
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"Goodta meetcha, Rube." There was concern in her face, but it's gone now, to match his stoicness.
"Have you been surviving OK here, without talking to anyone?"
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He means this literally, but that may not be immediately obvious.
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"Can't really afford to have loners around here," she points out. "We need everyone we've got on defensive and group survival."
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"What can you do?"
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