And that's fine. Connecticut can ask her myriad questions and she'll answer them. What reason does she have to lie? Why would she ever cover for the Director's ass after what he's done.
We have a common enemy, CT.
And I'm not one of them.
"Here's a question," weight shifted forward on bulked forearms, eyes like a hungry panther's. "How much do you know?"
He knew this one was coming eventually. It's only fair, since he just ambushed this woman with her own past she has a right to know how much of it he's sitting on.
"About you? Barely anything. But I know what happened to CT's home, and I know what she was doing while she was working under you. I have a pretty good idea about what your Director was up to, too. And why."
The last thing she needs is some random man knowing her business. Keep your head down, do your job and get out of here the second you're able. It's easy. Should be, that is, until a morbid curiosity entreats her forward in her seat.
"And what was it my Director was up to?"
She needs to hear it. The what, the why— like kindling to her fucked-familial-revenge-fire. How exactly did my father screw himself over?
He puts his hands up in the universal 'don't shoot' gesture, "You don't want to be friends, all right, but I'm willing to meet you in the middle if you change your mind." Yes, even after an introduction like this, he'd still extend the hand of friendship to her. Assuming she won't bite his fingers off.
"He was playing God with AI, the way I heard it. Was willing to cross every ethical line known to man, all in an attempt to bring his wife back to him in AI form. Not that I don't get where the impulse comes from, but he put that above all else including the lives of the people he was responsible for--not to mention a world ending war he was supposed to be helping fight. Selfish son of a bitch."
"I won't." A promise made lethal by her green-inferno stare. She isn't here to make friends— not a chance in hell. Certainly not with much larger fish to fry— like how she plans on getting out of here. (Any closer and Crichton might go home with two or three less digits. Maybe a whole hand less.)
And in a jarring flip of countenance, Carolina laughs. It's the kind of laugh that's absent of joy; an explosion of air so aggressive it feels almost animal.
Selfish son of a bitch. Selfish is right. Selfish, cruel, stupid. An old man who leaves behind nothing but violence, and it's that very trail Carolina tracks like a bloodhound. Soon it will end with her— that's if nobody's gotten to him first.
When she speaks, it has an almost sing-song quality. "And it all came cashing down on top of his head. He's buried so deep in his mistakes he has nowhere else to go. It's exactly how I want him."
Somehow that promise sounds an awful lot like a challenge to his ears, but she doesn't have to know that.
"If you say so."
Oof. Hm, nope. He doesn't like that laugh. That sounds a little too close to the way he laughs when he's one marble away from losing the whole set. ...Maybe he shouldn't judge.
"Hell of an evil laugh you got there. You practice that?" Wait, wait, don't shoot! Hands are up again! "Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. But, uh, in all seriousness, be careful treading down that path of revenge so you don't end up joining him at the bottom, huh?"
The derision drops from her face in the manner of stumbling over a very steep, very sudden cliff's edge. Snap, and it's gone. Replaced by radioactive incense. A hot, volatile force to make any sensible nuclear scientist throw themself under their bed.
Oops, he did it again. Only... he's not sure which part put that look of murder in her eyes.
"Not being flippant this time," he says with his hands still up, "but which part needs clarification? You know, before I put my other foot in my mouth?"
She'd like very much to do him the solid of slamming her own foot into his mouth. Seeing that there's a wooden table in her way, she satiates her bloodlust by lurching forward like a snake to catch his shirt collar. The lack of bloody gums and chipped teeth disappoints her. Nevertheless, Carolina holds it in a white-knuckled fist. Bears her teeth like an animal and shakes him once, twice. Her chair clatters an inch or two.
"You have no idea what you're talking about. What he did after CT was gone. I'm doing him a favor by hunting him down. He'll die the only way he deserves to die; alone and begging. If that brings me one step closer to the bottom, so be it. But I will never, never share the same ground he walks on. I will never be anything like him."
It probably says nothing good about the state of his psyche that his first thought upon being manhandled isn't "Ah!" but "Ah-ha!" He'll unpack that later.
For now, he's keeping himself nice and loose in her grip, just in case she does follow through on the threats of violence radiating off her like gamma waves.
"I don't know, specifically," he agrees. "I can't know. What I do know is people don't say things like 'I will never be anything like him' unless it's personal. So what did he do?"
"I'm not telling you!" Carolina shakes him again. Tosses him back into his chair and stands. "You think people just go around sharing all the ways they were wronged over dinner? Like I'd happily divulge that to some idiot who thought it'd be a smart idea to waltz my way, asking questions he doesn't deserve to know the answer to?!"
The complexity of her rage takes the form of wrinkled eye-corners, of a perfect u-shaped frown. She throws herself away from the table before it becomes kindle to her rapidly-catching fire.
"I told you what you wanted to know about CT and I. I entertained your fraternizing. Now, I'm done."
She makes for the door. Stops once and sends a scathing look over her shoulder.
"If you bother me again, I'll break your arms. Understand?"
Brat that he is, he doesn't even have the decency to look properly scared by her threat--not that he doesn't think she means it. (He value his arms not being crooked, so he's not making any moves to stand up or stop her.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Yes," Carolina says dryly. "I would."
And that's fine. Connecticut can ask her myriad questions and she'll answer them. What reason does she have to lie? Why would she ever cover for the Director's ass after what he's done.
We have a common enemy, CT.
And I'm not one of them.
"Here's a question," weight shifted forward on bulked forearms, eyes like a hungry panther's. "How much do you know?"
no subject
"About you? Barely anything. But I know what happened to CT's home, and I know what she was doing while she was working under you. I have a pretty good idea about what your Director was up to, too. And why."
no subject
"Good. We'll keep it that way."
The last thing she needs is some random man knowing her business. Keep your head down, do your job and get out of here the second you're able. It's easy. Should be, that is, until a morbid curiosity entreats her forward in her seat.
"And what was it my Director was up to?"
She needs to hear it. The what, the why— like kindling to her fucked-familial-revenge-fire. How exactly did my father screw himself over?
no subject
"He was playing God with AI, the way I heard it. Was willing to cross every ethical line known to man, all in an attempt to bring his wife back to him in AI form. Not that I don't get where the impulse comes from, but he put that above all else including the lives of the people he was responsible for--not to mention a world ending war he was supposed to be helping fight. Selfish son of a bitch."
no subject
"I won't." A promise made lethal by her green-inferno stare. She isn't here to make friends— not a chance in hell. Certainly not with much larger fish to fry— like how she plans on getting out of here. (Any closer and Crichton might go home with two or three less digits. Maybe a whole hand less.)
And in a jarring flip of countenance, Carolina laughs. It's the kind of laugh that's absent of joy; an explosion of air so aggressive it feels almost animal.
Selfish son of a bitch. Selfish is right. Selfish, cruel, stupid. An old man who leaves behind nothing but violence, and it's that very trail Carolina tracks like a bloodhound. Soon it will end with her— that's if nobody's gotten to him first.
When she speaks, it has an almost sing-song quality. "And it all came cashing down on top of his head. He's buried so deep in his mistakes he has nowhere else to go. It's exactly how I want him."
no subject
"If you say so."
Oof. Hm, nope. He doesn't like that laugh. That sounds a little too close to the way he laughs when he's one marble away from losing the whole set. ...Maybe he shouldn't judge.
"Hell of an evil laugh you got there. You practice that?" Wait, wait, don't shoot! Hands are up again! "Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist. But, uh, in all seriousness, be careful treading down that path of revenge so you don't end up joining him at the bottom, huh?"
no subject
The derision drops from her face in the manner of stumbling over a very steep, very sudden cliff's edge. Snap, and it's gone. Replaced by radioactive incense. A hot, volatile force to make any sensible nuclear scientist throw themself under their bed.
"Excuse me?"
no subject
"Not being flippant this time," he says with his hands still up, "but which part needs clarification? You know, before I put my other foot in my mouth?"
no subject
She'd like very much to do him the solid of slamming her own foot into his mouth. Seeing that there's a wooden table in her way, she satiates her bloodlust by lurching forward like a snake to catch his shirt collar. The lack of bloody gums and chipped teeth disappoints her. Nevertheless, Carolina holds it in a white-knuckled fist. Bears her teeth like an animal and shakes him once, twice. Her chair clatters an inch or two.
"You have no idea what you're talking about. What he did after CT was gone. I'm doing him a favor by hunting him down. He'll die the only way he deserves to die; alone and begging. If that brings me one step closer to the bottom, so be it. But I will never, never share the same ground he walks on. I will never be anything like him."
no subject
For now, he's keeping himself nice and loose in her grip, just in case she does follow through on the threats of violence radiating off her like gamma waves.
"I don't know, specifically," he agrees. "I can't know. What I do know is people don't say things like 'I will never be anything like him' unless it's personal. So what did he do?"
no subject
"I'm not telling you!" Carolina shakes him again. Tosses him back into his chair and stands. "You think people just go around sharing all the ways they were wronged over dinner? Like I'd happily divulge that to some idiot who thought it'd be a smart idea to waltz my way, asking questions he doesn't deserve to know the answer to?!"
The complexity of her rage takes the form of wrinkled eye-corners, of a perfect u-shaped frown. She throws herself away from the table before it becomes kindle to her rapidly-catching fire.
"I told you what you wanted to know about CT and I. I entertained your fraternizing. Now, I'm done."
She makes for the door. Stops once and sends a scathing look over her shoulder.
"If you bother me again, I'll break your arms. Understand?"
no subject
"I hear ya, loud and clear. ...Good talk."