It's the sticking point for a lot of people, as far as Rosita is aware; that, and getting no warning or explanation.
"Then you might not have to lay as low as you think. There's always the chance of an outlier, of course, who's just pissed off about being here and looking for an excuse - but as long as you're not out here murdering people for your own curiosity -" Her voice goes tense and sharp for a moment, angry, before it evaporates again "- you should be fine."
She raises an eyebrow, glancing up at him and back down. "Paris, huh? Instead of the Barge, or instead of whatever your cabin is?"
Eric dares to take the necessary couple of steps to a chair and perches on the arm, noting the change in her tone before shrugging vaguely. "Murdering out of curiosity was never something that crossed my mind. Not even as a child growing up when killing was in the name of survival. It's only ever been about survival. A little bit of vengeance, too."
A beat and he nods.
"And yes, Paris. I got stuck with the basement at the bar I ran in Shreveport with my progeny, Pam."
"Congratulations on mot being a total piece of shit then. "
She's watchful, but doesn't care that he's come closer. She's pulling pieces out of the communicator in her lap now, fully involved in chasing the mystery of it.
"You can have it changed if you don't like it that much. Louisiana to Paris is a big jump."
"Oh, I'm still a piece of shit to some people, but for other reasons."
He watches her hands work and shrugs.
"Maybe I will, though I'm led to believe there are limitations on what temporary wardens can ask the Admiral on your behalf. Have you heard anything about that?"
"Everyone's a piece of shit to someone else," she points out, squinting into the guts of the communicator.
"I have. My opinion on it is that their sole purpose here, the one thing we can't do without them, is make requests the Admiral will hear. So if they can't do that, then what's the point?"
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"Then you might not have to lay as low as you think. There's always the chance of an outlier, of course, who's just pissed off about being here and looking for an excuse - but as long as you're not out here murdering people for your own curiosity -" Her voice goes tense and sharp for a moment, angry, before it evaporates again "- you should be fine."
She raises an eyebrow, glancing up at him and back down. "Paris, huh? Instead of the Barge, or instead of whatever your cabin is?"
no subject
A beat and he nods.
"And yes, Paris. I got stuck with the basement at the bar I ran in Shreveport with my progeny, Pam."
His expression sours a little talking about it.
no subject
She's watchful, but doesn't care that he's come closer. She's pulling pieces out of the communicator in her lap now, fully involved in chasing the mystery of it.
"You can have it changed if you don't like it that much. Louisiana to Paris is a big jump."
no subject
He watches her hands work and shrugs.
"Maybe I will, though I'm led to believe there are limitations on what temporary wardens can ask the Admiral on your behalf. Have you heard anything about that?"
no subject
"I have. My opinion on it is that their sole purpose here, the one thing we can't do without them, is make requests the Admiral will hear. So if they can't do that, then what's the point?"