Kate is still halfway asleep with her back to the door when the two part ways and Esfir enters the room. She's lucid enough to know that Doc hasn't been gone nearly long enough to get anywhere far, so to say that the click of the door opening and closing surprises her would be an understatement.
She's suddenly very awake, and wondering where her guns are. This is the first time she has woken up without them near her in a very long time, and she's silently kicking herself for not looking for them earlier.
Defenseless, she quickly flips into an upright position to see who's there, ready to roll off the bed and seek cover if whoever it is poses a threat.
Esfir nods and takes a seat at the table, hands clasped together and eyes intent.
"I had a, uh, revelation, you might call it. I'm going to outlive you, Katya. Thanks to Weyland, I only die properly, never to come back, when I choose. So, I will outlive you.
And when I turn up to your funeral, I'd like it to be because the other guy got lucky.
Not because you made a mistake, or lost your temper."
There was no condescension in her voice, just a kind of tiredness.
Her knee-jerk reaction is to argue that she has no intentions of dying any time soon, and that she's been doing everything in her power to keep herself alive. It'd be true, to some extent.
But there's a deeper truth she knows is lurking there in a darker pit of her soul. Part of her wishes for death.
"I don't remember... much of what I told you last night."
She's suddenly very awake, and wondering where her guns are. This is the first time she has woken up without them near her in a very long time, and she's silently kicking herself for not looking for them earlier.
Defenseless, she quickly flips into an upright position to see who's there, ready to roll off the bed and seek cover if whoever it is poses a threat.
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Or, well, shouldn't be.
Esfir raises eyebrow at her.
"Good afternoon, Katya."
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She closes her eyes to the swimming feeling that accompanies her sudden movement.
"Afternoon, Fira," she smirks, catching her breath.
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"Named appropriately."
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"No," she eventually says, pushing herself back up into a sitting position with a soft frown.
Esfir looks serious.
Well. More so than usual.
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Esfir studies her for a long moment.
"What are you doing, Katya?"
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"I... am preparin' t'have a conversation with you, I reckon."
She licks her lips.
"A serious one, by the looks of it. You wanna sit down?"
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"I had a, uh, revelation, you might call it. I'm going to outlive you, Katya. Thanks to Weyland, I only die properly, never to come back, when I choose. So, I will outlive you.
And when I turn up to your funeral, I'd like it to be because the other guy got lucky.
Not because you made a mistake, or lost your temper."
There was no condescension in her voice, just a kind of tiredness.
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She blinks a few times, scrubbing a hand over her face. Throwing the blankets back, she slips out of bed.
"This is about what happened yesterday mornin'," she guesses, her voice quiet.
She carefully picks her way over to the table, taking the seat opposite her friend.
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Her knee-jerk reaction is to argue that she has no intentions of dying any time soon, and that she's been doing everything in her power to keep herself alive. It'd be true, to some extent.
But there's a deeper truth she knows is lurking there in a darker pit of her soul. Part of her wishes for death.
"I don't remember... much of what I told you last night."
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She sets her jaw (conveniently failing to mention the fact that she threatened him as well).
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