ataraxion | seventh tear ♫ video;

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seventh tear ♫ video;

Hello? I hope this is working... I'm never really sure.

[ Elizabeth, looking much more cheerful than during her last broadcast, smiles brightly for the camera. ]

Well! I've been having some strange headaches lately, so I thought it might help to focus my attentions on something. I was given a few things from home in my locker after the last Jump and put them to good use.

[ Voilà! She reveals a painting. Elizabeth beams at it as she turns from the camera, then chews thoughtfully on her lip as if looking to fault it. ]

I only had red, so it isn't as... vivid as I might have liked, but I'm hoping that the next Jump will have a few more colors. [ She huffs shortly, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. ] If anyone else has any art supplies and wouldn't mind sharing, please let me know! It seems a little morbid, almost, just using black and red.

And... I can do some sketches or paintings for anyone, if there are any requests. I'm far from any kind of proficiency, but it does help to take my mind off of things.

[ private to Booker DeWitt ]

Where are you? You are on this floor and I wanted to show you something!

[ private to Murphy Pendleton ]

I wanted to apologize for-- well, everything. You know. [ She flushes, clearly fretting. ] I can't tell you how... mortified I am.

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[ He's still embarrassed - whether or not she's offended doesn't change the fact that it is rude - but it helps that Elizabeth doesn't seem to mind. Booker just nods, avoiding her eyes and busying himself finding spoons and bowls for their soup. ]

It should be ready soon.

[ He hopes. ]

All right... [ She withdraws a few paper towels intent to use as napkins and then exhales decisively, nodding at their work. ]

I don't think we've done that badly of a job. [ They have water and food that they'd (more or less) put together themselves; it's not a lot, but it's something. ] Maybe next time we can cook two things.

[ He finds a ladle and spoons the soup into bowls before offering one to her. ]

Maybe.

[ Booker glances doubtfully at the assortment of canned goods and the few pieces of fresh produce they'd found. ]

What did you have in mind?

Thank you. [ She takes it into her hands before transporting it to another section of counter. Elizabeth glances around, then spies a few metallic stools off by the wall. She moves toward them and brings two over, huffing out an exhale as she sets them down. ]

There! And, "what did I"... Oh! Well... I didn't have anything in mind, really; I don't know many recipes. I'm sure we could find one in the media libraries that seems easy enough. Or we could ask someone?

[ He tries to get over and take the stools from her to carry the rest of the way, but she's too quick, setting them down before he can really help. Instead, he pushes her soup over to her and pours her some water before sitting down himself. He'd have been just as content to eat standing, really, but if Elizabeth wants to sit... ]

I don't know who we'd ask.

[ That's what happens when you only have one friend, Booker. He spoons up some soup and swallows it down, considering. Not bad. Not good, either, but... ]

What's your favorite food? What would you make if you could?

... I'm not sure. [ It's sad, maybe, but it makes sense. ] I didn't really have a selection when Songbird brought it for me and here... well, it's been a lot of the same. [ She shrugs lightly, and then adds hurriedly: ] Not that it's bad; I'd much rather eat something simple that I can make myself than... you know.

[ The tower.

Elizabeth considers the question again. ]

Something light? Maybe with fruit, or vegetables... though, that sounds more like a good appetizer or side dish than meal. [ She chews on her lip. ]

Salad, maybe?

[ He sounds a little dubious. Salad is okay once in a while, but as a favorite food? He frowns, trying to think of something...well, more exciting. ]

What about that cotton candy you tried?

[ Elizabeth wrinkles her nose at the former suggestions. ]

No, I don't think so. That doesn't sound... [ She shakes her head decidedly; they're in agreement that it isn't exciting enough to be a favorite food.

The second has her laughing again and she has to set her spoon down. ]

Cotton candy? [ She smiles brightly, remembering the free sample on the boardwalk. ] ... Well, it was very good, but I don't think you're meant to eat it for a meal.

Just as well. I wouldn't know how to make it, anyway.

[ Not that he knows how to make much else, but cotton candy sounds especially challenging.

He takes another bite of the soup, hunched awkwardly over the bowl on the tiny stool. It's just canned soup, nothing exciting, but he's...happy, anyway, or as happy as he's capable of being. It's been a long time since he'd sat down to a meal with anyone. Even in Columbia, he and Elizabeth hadn't done more than scavenge what food they could on their way through the city.

And then a drop of blood falls from his nose, splashing into the soup, and he stops with his spoon in the air, staring. ]

I wonder how you would make it. Sugar, and... milk, maybe? But otherwise, I'm not sure, either.

[ Hmm. She takes a sip of the soup, perfectly content with what they've made.

Until. ]

Again? [ She questions quietly, frowning at him from her seat. She won't intervene (much), mostly because she isn't sure what to do. ] ... How are you feeling?

[ Booker pulls out his handkerchief and holds it to his nose. It's not too bad this time, but coming just after the other one like that... ]

Headache.

[ He shakes his head, irrationally upset about his soup being ruined. ]

Why is this happening?

[ Without comment and as discretely as possible, Elizabeth pushes his dish away and slides her own bowl in front of him. ]

Again. [ She repeats, and sighs. ] I wish that I knew. You haven't hit your head, or... gotten any kind of other injuries, have you?

[ Though she's fairly sure of the answer. What could this be? ]

It... could have something to do with the pressure up here, couldn't it?

No, nothing's happened.

[ He frowns at the bowl suddenly in front of him, and wordlessly pushes it back to Elizabeth. ]

It could, but...why now? Nothing's changed.

[ He sighs, and he has to ask, although he's sure he knows the answer. ]

You haven't had anything like this happen, have you?

[ She, in turn, slides it back in front of him with slightly more force than before. ]

I don't know. ... I think some things change here that we can't feel, exactly. There may have been something keeping the pressure at a certain level that isn't functioning anymore, or... we've traveled to a different location. I think that it could be a lot of reasons.

[ She fiddles briefly with her thimble. ]

... A little. I've had a few headaches and-- Well, not as much as you have.

[ He doesn't push it back - this is getting ridiculous - but he does ignore it for the moment, instead looking at Elizabeth in concern. She hadn't mentioned any of this before. ]

A few headaches, and...?

And a nosebleed. [ She won't lie to him about it if there doesn't seem to be anything really wrong. Elizabeth calmly takes a sip of water and eyes him closely, noting the blood at his own nose, guessing there might be a throbbing near his brain to accompany it. ]

The food isn't helping at all, then. [ Whoooops, directed that conversation right back to him and his issues, thanks. ]

[ Elizabeth getting a nosebleed is honestly more worrying than Booker getting two himself. He frowns at her, then sighs and glances at the bowl. He'd inhaled a surprising amount of his own soup before he'd ruined it by bleeding in it, but he's still hungry.

Even so, he's not about to let her go without on his account. ]

You've hardly touched this, Elizabeth.

And you clearly haven't had enough! And of the two of us, I'm the one who's been eating regular meals.

[ HARD TRUTHS sorry buddy ]

I've had plenty.

[ It's not precisely true. But he can always come back and make more soup.

He pushes the bowl back over to her, and leaves his hand there so she can't push it back. ]

Eat.

[ Elizabeth tries anyway, putting her smaller hand on the other side and trying to push it back without using enough force to topple the bowl. ]

I can always make more, but I really think you should eat this!

[ He scowls, his expression stubborn. ]

I'm fine, Elizabeth. You don't have to worry about me.

[ But she's just as stubborn, he knows, and he sighs, giving in slightly. If neither of them gives a little, they'll just be doing this all day long. ]

Eat this. I'll make more for both of us, okay?

But I do worry. [ And she does have to, as far as she's concerned, based on empirical evidence.

... Eventually, she sighs, still looking pouty, and accepts the soup. ]

All right. [ "But I'm not happy about it, do you hear?" ] But will you promise to eat something else, too?

I'll make more right now.

[ And true to his word, he gets up and goes to turn the stove back on to heat up while he washes the pot. ]

You shouldn't.

[ He says it over his shoulder from the sink, not looking at her. ]

Maybe I shouldn't, but I do; I need to, after everything that I--

[ She cuts herself off, staring adamantly down at the half-full bowl of soup. Her body language, if he looks, suggests shame. Regret. Embarrassment. Elizabeth messes with the thimble on her finger and tightens her shoulders at her side.

Will we ever be able to move past what happened?

A headache bites at her brain from the inside and she winces. ]

... I'll try to keep more to myself. [ She finally says, still not meeting his eyes. ] I know I can be... overbearing.

That's not what I -

[ He stops, sighing in frustration. How is it that he manages to mess things up every time? He sneaks a look over his shoulder, and the way she's sitting, with her shoulders hunched and her head bowed, is like a knife to the gut.

He'd never meant to upset her. Never meant to...to stop her from being who she is. Yes, he'd rather she didn't needle him about food and about the drinking, he'd rather she didn't poke her nose into his business, but he'd take that a thousand times over just one instance of Elizabeth biting her tongue on his behalf and looking that embarrassed and ashamed.

He's a bad influence on her. He's not good for her. Isn't that what this whole thing's about?

Abandoning the pot, Booker walks back over, wiping his hands dry on his pants, and leans his elbows on the table across from her. It takes him a moment to speak, as he struggles with what to say. ]

You're not overbearing, Elizabeth. It's just...

...All of this. The food, the tours of the ship. Hell, you made a whole city just because you thought I'd want to see it.

[ And he hadn't, not really, which is worse. She'd picked up on his lack of enthusiasm, he knows, and it had made him feel like scum, but what could he do? He doesn't have that same enthusiasm for life, that same inner joy that Elizabeth does. He wishes he could, sometimes, when she gets so delighted just at simple things and she's trying to drag him along and make him enjoy them with her, but he just can't. ]

I ain't worth...all that effort.

[ He drags a hand through his hair, looking away. ]

I ain't worth any of it.

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FINISH YOUR DINNER YOUNG LADY

MAKE HER

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