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(no subject)

Who: Tali'Zorah and assorted people
When: End of November
Where: Around the encampment
What: Tali's blowing this popsicle stand, runs into a few people before she goes. Various starters within o/

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Focusing on what she's doing has gotten hard since she woke up. Not that she thinks Thán or Curre or whoever it was messed up and took away her attention span - but there's so much to unpack in her mind that real things she has to do, preparations to leave, haven't hit the forefront of her mind yet.

What happened to her still feels like it's too big to take in, to even understand fully. She's never before wondered much about afterlives and mortality, not simply taken oblivion for granted, but now she almost wishes she had. Because now she feels totally clueless. And that's not something she--

"Ow--" Back in the real world, there's blood snaking down her thumb and a glistening wet utility knife. She blinks at it - refuses to let it remind her of the bright stain spreading on her uniform, the heaviness of blood filling her chest - and steps back from the cargo ship's open electrical panel.

The cloth she'd had on hand for cleaning hasn't been used yet, so she's about to use that when...

"Oh - sorry. I didn't see you." Or notice the telltale mechanical rumble of his presence that still oddly reminds her of the cat blanket Miles once gave Niko for her.

There's a beat of stillness. A skip of sound. Rinzler steps a pace closer, and the dim glow of lights inside the fog sharpens to a familiar hunched frame and circuit pattern. The contents of the flight deck have been his task since he was first installed in this system, and since the crash, he's been monitoring anyone who gets near the ships.

With the entire system broken, there's not much else to do.

Still, Tali'Zorah is authorized, and the vehicle she's been modifying doesn't even fall into the shared domain. Even if she weren't, apology seems like an odd response to observation. If probably still better than alarm. He shrugs, a faint twitch through the usual hunch, and redirects attention with a nod towards her cut hand.

She might want to take care of that.

She idly finds herself wondering if Niko kept that cat blanket after the crash, because now that she's made that association with Rinzler's one vocalisation (if you can call it that), it really won't go away.

Rinzler and her haven't spoke in months, but in that time, she's maybe just gotten used to him - the idea of him - or something, because his movements don't make her jumpy. Stepping towards her, the twitchy movements of him shrugging and nodding - it doesn't matter. She's not nervous. Maybe, in a weird way, dying made her realise she has far worse things to be nervous of than a program who won't harm her as long as she doesn't harm him.

She flashes him a wry grin. "You weren't there for very long, were you? I wasn't trying to ignore you, I just wasn't paying attention." She holds up her bloodied hand to illustrate.

The bag of assorted tools and supplies she has sitting on a rock didn't have a first aid kit in it when she first packed it, and doesn't magically spawn one as she goes rummaging around in the thing either. Eventually, she gives up and merely ties the cloth around it with a mixture of her mouth and other hand.

The difference is noticeable. As much interest as Tali'Zorah has shown, as willing as she's been to work together, there's always been the faint lag of tension filling up the space between. Fear is hardly unusual toward the enforcer, and he counts hers sensible enough. But it's gone now, and Rinzler tilts his head, a little curious at the ease that seems to have replaced it.

The question itself is more straightforward. Rinzler shrugs—he's been there for a while, but being unobserved is no concern. Generally, he counts it as a skillset. Her self-repair method gathers a dubious skip in his rumbling, but as crude as the patch looks, it's far enough outside his function that the program's not going to judge. Much.

He will, however, turn his helmet pointedly toward that bag... then back to the ship she's fixing. It doesn't take a scan to see there's more than just repair tools there. Going someplace?

She pulls the cloth tight with her teeth, catches Rinzler's...eye? Helmet?...and shrugs. She'll go to the med tent at some point, but for now, it's not that bad. And she has things to do - things that Rinzler has clearly noticed, as he very deliberately looks from bag to ship in such a way that he doesn't need words to be understood.

"Right," she says, following his gaze. "I'm leaving the crew. We are - Niko and I."

It's not something she's told many people, not yet - closer to leaving, she'll let the right people know, but for now, as far as most people are concerned, she's just really focused on fixing this little transport ship after the explosion.

"As soon I finish getting the ship supplied and ready for deep space."

The answer isn't surprising. Not with her actions: the bag she's packed, the precautions she's been taking. Not with the situation all of them are in. Crew requires a ship, requires a system, and the incompetence of the Moira's admins has crashed theirs in a mess of faults and failure.

Rinzler doesn't move, doesn't react—because it's expected, because it's sensible. Because whether here or at the Portal, soon all of them will have to do the same.

The ticking rattle gets a little louder, though. After a moment, he reaches for his communicator.

Destination?

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(no subject)

RINZLER

Sorry for taking so long!

ahaha no, I will always be slower, don't worry <3

All aboard the snail train?

hell yessss

\o/