[The new man in quarantine is quiet. Not frightened- there are no nervous tics or glances, everything is controlled. But rather than yell or moan he has drawn into himself, sitting slightly hunched over with his back to the wall
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Mine and my brother's, inasmuch as we have authority. I apologize for holding you there, but the necessity is undeniable. You should be released in a few days.
Yes, most people do come to that conclusion, [she answers, just as dry.]
If there's anything you feel you're lacking, I'll attempt to accommodate you with it. It isn't an airborne virus, so we can be somewhat free with those quarantined.
I've kept some that I've managed to recover from before the outbreak, but obviously they're all at least eight months old. I do have some books, too, though not many.
radio --> actionalwayswatchedJanuary 13 2011, 21:06:28 UTC
I don't mind at all. I'll be right there.
[It takes her only a few minutes to reach quarantine. The walk is quick, and she's made it many times before. She has a somewhat battered copy of the Count of Monte Cristo in hand, and a smile on her face that was half wry, half amused.
She holds up the book.] A trade for something to call you?
[Honestly, S.L. wouldn't mind even if she did know it was a lie. Names seem such trivial things in this circumstance. She hands over the book, turning it so it'll slide between the bars.]
A pleasure to meet you. I'm Sarah Lane Moore, but please call me S.L. I hope you'll find the compound more welcoming when you aren't stuck in a cell.
We've made a community here as best we're able, [she says openly, quietly earnest as she only ever is when talking about the compound.] It's not glamorous, and it's not what anyone's used to, but we make do.
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Five. You're welcome to leave if you'd rather brave the wilderness without us; we don't force anyone to stay.
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but then, dryly-] I'll brave the five days.
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If there's anything you feel you're lacking, I'll attempt to accommodate you with it. It isn't an airborne virus, so we can be somewhat free with those quarantined.
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I guess there aren't any newspapers.
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What books?
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[It takes her only a few minutes to reach quarantine. The walk is quick, and she's made it many times before. She has a somewhat battered copy of the Count of Monte Cristo in hand, and a smile on her face that was half wry, half amused.
She holds up the book.] A trade for something to call you?
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Jim Standfast. [The lie is easy, totally part of him. He could convince someone in his sleep. He has, in dreams and memories.]
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A pleasure to meet you. I'm Sarah Lane Moore, but please call me S.L. I hope you'll find the compound more welcoming when you aren't stuck in a cell.
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I hope so too. [That, though, is another lie, in its way. He knows better than to hope that.]
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