As a rule, Rosita has learned not to ask people about their loved ones that died. It's cruel to them, since most of them weren't raised as she was. Since the loss is generally so fucking big, too big to know what to do with and keep moving forward.
But that's not how she was raised, and he already knows so much about her.
"Few hundred years," he answers, letting out a sigh. "She went to work for the Authority, and got roped into their propaganda. As I did, for a while. But she and Eric fell out."
He shakes his head. It doesn't bother him to talk about her now, because she's still alive to him. He never felt her death. He knows that it happens, but - sometimes he can pretend.
"No. Not really. It was humans. They engineered a virus that - only vampires could get. It killed us, slowly. She was killed by that."
"Why not?" he smiles. "The world is cruel in so many ways. In many different universes. We are afforded an opportunity to create our own sort of space."
The moment fades instead of being bolstered in turn by his smile, by his words. She drains the cooled coffee and sets the mug down on the table, shaking her too long sleeves over her hands when she wraps her arms around herself and leans back in the chair.
(It's Jesus's shirt.)
"Are we," she echoes wryly, not quite a question, not quite not.
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But maybe not, she says with a shrug, and a hint of a return smile over the top of her mug.
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"I'd rather you yell at me on deck."
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She was trying to do better; trying to be better. Now she doesn't know.
The smile fades. "Did you - were you okay? Through all of that?"
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He does look down. "Eric and I saw Nora."
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But Godric was the one who set it up, so: "Who's Nora?"
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He clears his throat.
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But that's not how she was raised, and he already knows so much about her.
"What's a while?"
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"And then she died. The Authority have something to do with it?"
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"No. Not really. It was humans. They engineered a virus that - only vampires could get. It killed us, slowly. She was killed by that."
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"I'm sorry. It's... hard. To lose people that way."
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"It hasn't happened to me yet. I didn't have to feel her death, but Eric was there."
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She has a guess or two of her own, but she hardly knows him like Godric does.
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He runs a hand down his face.
"It was a terrible mistake."
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She certainly knows how that feels.
"Which part?" she asks, anyway.
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He finally looks up to her.
"He deserves to have me, and he will."
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"You've just got a list of people to take home, huh?"
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(It's Jesus's shirt.)
"Are we," she echoes wryly, not quite a question, not quite not.
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He shrugs. "But it isn't obvious at first. Why?"
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"I just don't think it's obvious at all."
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She shrugs.
"It's not dying. It's not living. It's a crossroads."
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"Alright, then what is the crossroads? Where do the other paths lead?"
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"I just also know nothing is guaranteed."
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