I've been walking forty miles of bad road. If the Bible is right, the world will explode.

[akablackkitty]

Walk by the CCTV room of the Kashtta Tower, and the following conversation can be heard:

"You know, I've got about a billion security protocols to run through and, uh, there's-"

"Mr. Flinkman, I think you can be spared from your duties for five seconds to humor me a little."

"....You're angry. Okay, that's... Yeah, it's not every day I can actually

Comments

[fireintothesky]

Here there be Henriettas. Or rather, where Bristow is, there is one. She's stopped to look at the cafe in a rather vague, dizzy way that suggests she hasn't really eaten since she ran off from the Conrad to try and find Jose. She's dirty, has a bit of blood on her face that isn't hers--though it's hard to tell--and is also hopelessly lost. Even if she wanted to get back to the Conrad, she couldn't. She hasn't studied American maps. Name any big city in Italy and she could recreate the layout from streets to buildings as updated by governmental records, but Chicago... Chicago is a very different thing.

[stopdropanddie]

There is a small child.

There is a small, bloody child staring at his cafe.

Bristow looks around. Surely, there is someone here who can deal with this? Someone who isn't him? No?

Fuck.

He sighs and calls out to her, "Are you lost?" Never mind that he hasn't dealt with a child since Sydney was one and after a point, he wasn't very good at it. He'll... Improvise. Or something.

[fireintothesky]

Henrietta doesn't immediately register that Bristow is talking to her. She turns to look at him, her expression blank and intense as it always is when she's looking for instruction. It's something newcomers to the Social Welfare Agency remark on with varying degrees of ill-ease, the fact that the cyborgs seem at the same time so vacant and so intense.

"Yes," she says. It's simply the truth. "I'm looking for signore Jose." Her English is good, while accented. It's one of the three cardinals she was studying. "I have to find him."

[stopdropanddie]

...This is someone punishing him, isn't it? Something about her expression reminds him of the kids in Project Christmas, all of them staring at their instructors with wide, trusting, innocent faces as they assembled weapons with speed not uncommon to seasoned professionals.

He stares back, like he's trying to not be intimidated or freaked by that. Nothing rattles Jack Bristow. Nothing

"Where did you last see him?" He asks with an awkward sort of paternal tone, gesturing her closer to his table. She's clearly not a normal little girl, so maybe this won't be as... Uncomfortable. Or maybe it'll just be uncomfortable for completely different reasons.

[fireintothesky]

Automatic obedience; she's not been issued orders since she ran from the Conrad, so the response is automatic and a relief. Henrietta comes to stand next to him with steps measured for efficiency, face cast downward while she still watches him from beneath her eyelashes.

--always your handler obey always--

Her violin case, as ever, is gripped in one hand, the clips of her P90 inside it replaced with the spares she keeps there. Her P239, as ever, is in its holster underneath her jacket. Empty. It's unnervingly light. "In Rome, signore. We were on assignment. Rico threw the flashbomb and I fell."

[stopdropanddie]

This is possibly the most unsettling thing Jack Bristow has ever seen in his life. Not even Project Christmas trained children like that. He'd kill himself before he'd have allowed Sydney to become an obedient little dog to someone. It was only supposed to make her smarter, prevent her from being deceived.

There's a phrase somewhere, he's sure, about how the more you have to defend a point, even when not asked to, the more guilty you probably feel about it.

He realizes he's staring and gaping slightly and shakes it off with a hard swallow and a very serious, grave look. "You fell through the Rift then?" Hopefully, someone would have told her, but given her state, then perhaps she seriously has been wandering about with no idea of what happened to her.

[fireintothesky]

"I fell," she repeats. Denial is the only thing keeping her from panic. She needs to protect Jose. Obey Jose. Serve Jose on behalf of the Agency.

If there's no Jose, there's nothing for her.

If there's nothing for her--

"I have to get back to signore Jose, please."

[stopdropanddie]

Jack swallows. This is not going to get any easier, now is it? He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, more than a little awkwardly. “You can’t go back to him.”

And then promptly changes tact lest that set her off or something. She’s a child, so perhaps she’s easily distracted. When he speaks again, it’s in Italian. «You are Italian, yes?»

[fireintothesky]

Her grip tightens on the violin case until her knuckles go white and the metal bends, fractionally, under her fingers. Not enough to be noticeable. Just enough to leave a mark later. No, she thinks. Unacceptable. Not possible. No--

And then he's speaking Italian. Good Italian, and something desperate and lonely in her subconscious clicks into that and refuses to let go. «Yes, sir.»

[stopdropanddie]

Okay. That's kept her calm at any rate. He nods slowly and gestures to the chair. When all else fails, formality is never inappropriate... Except for in dealing with children, but she seems an exceptionally bright child who doesn't mind it so much, so it'll do.

When he speaks again, it's in a calm, paternal voice, like he's slipping into an alias to avoid dealing with the situation head-on as himself, «Would you like to order something? The facts about your situation might be easier to swallow with something to eat. They have very good sweets here.»

Not that he eats sweets, but some of the menu items are things Sydney used to be fond of as a child and, well, if one small child approves, all of them should.

[fireintothesky]

She takes a seat, obedient as ever. When Bristow offers her something to eat, Henrietta gives him another long, blank look. «But I haven't done anything.»

Clearly, service results in a reward. Why should a stranger give her anything nice when she hasn't killed anyone for him?

[stopdropanddie]

Jack blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. One more time for good measure and the just sighs. This would be painful to watch if he weren't so utterly in control of his emotions.

«I don't see why you have to do anything. You've had a bad day. I think that in itself deserves a treat.»

He used to do that with Sydney before everything got awkward and he spent too much time trying to sort through Irina's betrayal- buy her treats when she was having a bad day. Honestly, he shouldn't be able to fall so easily back into that with a stranger, but Sydney's older and those kinds of things don't work on adults. The problem with never being around enough to watch your daughter grow is that you miss out on growing as a father.

[fireintothesky]

«But--» She stops, not sure how to phrase her objection. «You aren't signore Jose. I can't accept anything from you, signore.»

Henrietta folds her hands in her lap and kicks her feet. She stops herself when she realizes how fidgety that is.

[stopdropanddie]

He sighs again, but remains paternal. He's held aliases up under much more dire circumstances than this. «It is doubtful that signore Jose will be offering you anything for a very long time, if ever. You are an entire world apart from him and if you don't eat, you'll starve. And if your signore Jose loves you, he wouldn't want you to starve.»

Which, honestly, given the way she's acting might not be the right word for it. Love isn't something you attach to handlers and assets (unless you're Sydney and Vaughn), which is what he assumes Jose and the girl are to each other. Still.