"Family," she repeats. She doesn't seem to understand the word.
But maybe, on an instinctive level . . . More slowly, but more clearly, come more images: a young man with a square jaw, a light-haired Asian woman, a tall black man. The last is accompanied by a sense of -- trust, and protectiveness, and safety.
"Are you okay?"
She can tell, of course, that the answer will be no, but Echo's thoughts are... weird.
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That's not right.
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"Family," she repeats. She doesn't seem to understand the word.
But maybe, on an instinctive level . . . More slowly, but more clearly, come more images: a young man with a square jaw, a light-haired Asian woman, a tall black man. The last is accompanied by a sense of -- trust, and protectiveness, and safety.
She shakes her head again. "I -- I don't know."
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"What?"
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"I have a sister," she says, conversationally. "Her name is June. She's a lawyer."
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Which is a good thing, in this case; it means she focuses on what Freya's saying rather than her own anxiety, and starts to relax.
"June is a nice name."
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Read: labeled a catatonic schizophrenic and locked in an insane asylum.
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It's . . . entirely likely that Echo is misunderstanding how Freya is using the term talk, here.
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(Bemused Doll is bemused.)
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