She greets his thanks with a blank look, watching him consider whatever it is he's considering. Watching him sift through his own baggage and at a different time, in a different place, for a different reason she might even ask.
Here, now, in the wake of the bullshit she just waded through to get here? She looks him dead in his eye, let's him see her calm and collected, and says very clearly, very deliberately, "No."
She will not accept a structure like this one. She will not accept a system because it's popular. Never again.
She reminds him so starkly, strikingly of himself in that moment that his first response is a huff of actual, honest to god laughter. Then he immediately realises how that could be taken, and shakes his head in a rush that will probably give him a headache. "I'm sorry, I just - no, that's exactly how I would act in your shoes."
If he was being kept here, away from his chosen commitment, on the whims of a god who decided he knew best, beneath people he'd never have taken orders from? "Probably worse, honestly." It would be a self-destructive spiral of stubbornness that would never see him graduated. He doesn't want that for her, but how can he argue against the perspective he himself would take?
With a faint, crooked smile, "All right, then, we'll need a different strategy. Not recognising wardens' authority as a whole - but are there any people, either side of the line, who've earned that kind of respect?"
She does, of course, take it that way and her dark eyes harder, her jaw tenses. Fuck him then. She isn't so desperate for someone to listen to her that she needs to stand here and be laughed at, and she's about to tell him exactly that when he catches up.
It would be easier to share off if she weren't already upset. Easier to laugh, too. As it is she folds her arms a d she waits.
"I don't need help figuring my own situation out. I have my people. You asked me to explain why I disagreed that Malcolm knew what he was doing, and that it mattered that they were wardens involved, and that wardens are held to a different standard."
"You're right: you've explained that, and we aren't going to agree on it. Thank you for taking the time - and the risk - to do that." It's another perspective to keep in mind, and those never stop being valuable.
But he's still leaning slightly against the rail, clearly not ready to turn around and leave.
"I'll do my best not to talk to you as a warden. Just - someone who's here to help, if you ever want it."
"If I'd found Hilbert walking away from a dead body? I'd walk him to Zero, call someone to take care of Abel, and call a few more people to help me figure out what in the hells happened."
With a slight shrug, "I know who I'd call, but - that's why I think a standardised procedure would be helpful. No one would have to crowdsource these things, no matter who you knew or who your friends were."
"Do you honestly think that if there were some kind of procedure or protocol, anyone would follow it?" she asks, folding her arms.
"It's still a popularity game, especially for the kind of people who show up here. If they don't like whoever they're supposed to contact and they do like whoever has been killed?" Because she wouldn't if she didn't trust them. Not with this group.
"I think Malcolm would have, and - enough others would that it's worth having." There was a definitely beat of hesitation there, though, before he admits, "But I was gone for a while. I might still be looking through rose-colored glasses."
Even through this clusterfuck, the Barge feels remarkably well-intentioned and collaborative in comparison.
"And honestly I'm not sure why anyone would. Like you said there's no training. There's no qualification, no justification, no explanation. If I need help, it's with this shit."
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Here, now, in the wake of the bullshit she just waded through to get here? She looks him dead in his eye, let's him see her calm and collected, and says very clearly, very deliberately, "No."
She will not accept a structure like this one. She will not accept a system because it's popular. Never again.
"I do not accept anything here."
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If he was being kept here, away from his chosen commitment, on the whims of a god who decided he knew best, beneath people he'd never have taken orders from? "Probably worse, honestly." It would be a self-destructive spiral of stubbornness that would never see him graduated. He doesn't want that for her, but how can he argue against the perspective he himself would take?
With a faint, crooked smile, "All right, then, we'll need a different strategy. Not recognising wardens' authority as a whole - but are there any people, either side of the line, who've earned that kind of respect?"
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It would be easier to share off if she weren't already upset. Easier to laugh, too. As it is she folds her arms a d she waits.
"I don't need help figuring my own situation out. I have my people. You asked me to explain why I disagreed that Malcolm knew what he was doing, and that it mattered that they were wardens involved, and that wardens are held to a different standard."
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- to do that." It's another perspective to keep in mind, and those never stop being valuable.
But he's still leaning slightly against the rail, clearly not ready to turn around and leave.
"I'll do my best not to talk to you as a warden. Just - someone who's here to help, if you ever want it."
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"What makes you think I need help?" she asks, not a challenge necessarily, but an honest question.
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"And I think we've got some things in common. I can barely remember a time when I wasn't tired."
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Being dead hasn't changed that much for her. In fact, being dead has changed much less than she had imagined that it might.
"How would you have handled this shitshow?"
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With a slight shrug, "I know who I'd call, but - that's why I think a standardised procedure would be helpful. No one would have to crowdsource these things, no matter who you knew or who your friends were."
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"It's still a popularity game, especially for the kind of people who show up here. If they don't like whoever they're supposed to contact and they do like whoever has been killed?" Because she wouldn't if she didn't trust them. Not with this group.
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Even through this clusterfuck, the Barge feels remarkably well-intentioned and collaborative in comparison.
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She doesn't trust Malcolm at all.
"And honestly I'm not sure why anyone would. Like you said there's no training. There's no qualification, no justification, no explanation. If I need help, it's with this shit."