first ♢ voice

[versusnurture]

[Abigail's voice quavers, as though she's uncertain of the connection, like someone making their first long-distance call. She starts out firm and then peters out into uncertainty, the tail end of her first sentence almost a question.]

My name is Abigail . . . Hobbs.

I'm not sure how I got here, but I'm here now. [A pause; who to ask for?] I'm looking for Dr. Alana Bloom. She's tall with dark hair. She was supposed to check in with me this morning, but instead I'm here.

Are there - [And here she inserts a little more tremor than necessary into her voice, because she doesn't know what else to do right now - ] Are there letters home? That kind of thing? How does this work? Because I need to talk to my dad.

Comments

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[It is not, after all, an unusual response. Ben has observed it in many - indeed, the majority of - his fellow passengers, which is part of why he's so willing to believe that his own preference is the unexpected one. It is.

But she's the one who brought it up, so he feels comfortable enough in the subject to press a little.]

What conditions are considered undesirable to you?

[ Spam ]

[versusnurture]

When it's fake.

[She answers instantly, instinctively, which she shouldn't do. She berates herself instantly for it; what does she know about Ben really, when it comes down to the important things? Not much - and it's been proven concretely that she's not as good at reading people as she thinks she is. Stupid, stupid, stupid.]

[Her expression barely changes.]

You know. Just - fake social things. That type of stuff.

[That's not what she means at all.]

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[If he notices, Ben doesn't give any indication. Indeed he seems to follow the explanation exactly as she lays it out.

There is a reason for this and it should not, at this point, be surprising what it actually is:]

I do not know. What is the point of a falsified social gathering? There is a type?

[ Spam ]

[versusnurture]

Not a gathering. Just - when people lie. When they say they like you and they don't, not really.

[This could easily be the whining of a high school girl who feels left out in school, but it's absolutely not. She does well with her peers. It's big game that tends to get her when she's not looking.]

You don't seem to lie much. That's - [Her hair's fallen in her face again; she pushes it out of her face and takes the opportunity to look down at her feet for a moment.] That's part of why I like you.

[ Spam ]

[warisart]

[Ben wouldn't recognize it as such, anyway. He's not familiar with high school, with teenagers, with cliques. Of course on the other hand, he also doesn't understand - not really, not in more than theory - why the one example she picks is the most important. No one, to his knowledge, has ever bothered to lie to him about that. He's not important enough for anyone to feel the need to convince him either way of their friendship for him.

He's heard the last thing she says before, though. That he doesn't lie. It's accurate and he sees no reason to deny it.]

I don't see the point in it. Very rarely have I been in a position to need to do so, or that the results of doing so would not be much, much worse than the consequences in the inevitable matter of when I would be caught doing so.

I am glad it is a positive point for you, however.