ataraxion | 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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[ Booker eyes her. He's not normally the type to indulge in daydreams and fantasies, and he doesn't really understand the point. Describing his perfect meal won't change anything - they'll still be eating canned soup.

But he indulges, for Elizabeth's sake, frowning in thought. ]

...There was an Italian neighborhood, near - back in New York. [ He shrugs. He never claimed to be good at this. ] I wouldn't mind eating pasta again.

I'm glad that I asked. Otherwise I might have expected something a little more robust, but now I know better.

[ She would have guessed something particularly American, like grilled meats and beer and something made with potatoes. The answer brings another smile to her face as she finishes off what's left of her soup.

Then, she chews on her lip briefly, realizing that she finally has to admit defeat. ]

Thank you for lunch, or... [ Elizabeth gestures to their surroundings; I really don't know what time of day it's meant to be. ] I should, um... I wanted to touch up a few things on my painting.

[ You know, the one she'd been putting together at the beginning of all this. ]

[ Booker shakes his head. She doesn't have to thank him for anything. ]

This was all your idea.

[ He'd still be sitting alone in his room if she hadn't tracked him down. And he's grateful she had, despite everything. It shows on his face, hopefully, even if it doesn't occur to him to say as much. ]

I'll see you back to your room.

[ Because all his admonitions about how she shouldn't spend time with him and should learn to take care of herself aside, he's not about to let her wander the halls alone. ]

When you're finished! [ She wouldn't ask him to hurry his meal on her account; she'd sooner just head back by herself, but she knows, especially given their conversations today, that he'll argue.

She doesn't want to encourage more fighting just yet. ]

[ He rolls his eyes, but nods begrudgingly, spooning up more soup. ]

When I'm finished.

[ In the meantime, she busies herself by whisking away the dishes as they're emptied, including his, once he's finished, and depositing them in the sink. She peers at them for a moment, turning on the water, and then retrieves some dish soap after a moment of searching around the nearby cabinets. Once that's done, she dries them off with the paper towels on the counter; one is the recipient of a drop of blood from her nose and she grumbles, cleaning it again and finally stacking her work nearby. ]

There. [ It'd be rude just to leave their dirty things there for someone else, wouldn't it? ]

Ready?

[ Booker feels a little useless when she comes over and deftly whisks his bowl away before he can offer to help. Just sitting there while she cleans up doesn't sit right with him.

So he looks around for more to do, finally settling on putting away the produce and other food they'd pulled out and hadn't ended up eating. He finishes about when she does, and nods. ]

Ready.

[ He considers offering her his arm...but they're past that now, aren't they? However Elizabeth feels about it, he'd as much as told her they shouldn't be friends anymore. It's unfair to start playing around like they are now.

So he resigns himself to a silent, probably awkward walk back to her room. And then...who knows. Maybe she'll decide he's right about the whole thing after all. ]

[ Even Elizabeth feels the tension hanging between them, thick and tangible like a spider's web, stuck to them both and difficult to remove entirely. She casts furtive glances at him every so often, trying to strike up meaningless conversation, but things are different. ]

... Thank you for walking me back. [ It's common courtesy, after all, though he's still likely deny the gratitude. She shifts where she stands, unsure of what to say, or do. ]

Think about how I should be trained, or... what have you, and then come find me. All right? [ She furrows her brows, and adds: ] If too much time passes, I'll come knocking. You know that.

I'll think about it.

[ He won't be happy about it, but he'll do it. Booker stands there for a moment, just looking at her. He opens his mouth, looking as if he's about to say something else...and then just shakes his head, defeated. ]

Goodbye, Elizabeth.

seventh tear ♫ video;

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