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Dec. 22nd, 2010 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charameiJust trying something out.
Surprisingly, it doesn't feel like a betrayal.
Meredith has killed her, thrown her away and left her body out for the dogs; but it doesn't feel like a betrayal. Not when he's here, in front of her, and lying. Maria - no, Regan - whoever she is, sort that out later - knows he's lying. Meredith's always been a terrible liar; she's meeting him now for the first time, and she knows -
Now she's just confusing herself.
She, whoever she is, knows he's lying because some part of her has known him forever and a day. It's the same feeling that refuses to let her be scared of him. Meredith wouldn't.
Beatrice, apparently, would. She doesn't look altogether surprised when MariaReganWhoever turns on her. Preprepared excuses jump to her lips, and Marin/Regan catches Meredith's eye as naturally and inadvertently as if he were Chris or even Beatrice herself. They're thinking the same thing: always be prepared.
"How could you do this to me?" she asks; she's looking at Beatrice, but the question's not directed at her.
"Just luck." Meredith says it almost cheerfully, but the unspoken adjective is bad.
Now the question's directed at Beatrice, and Beatrice does not know how to answer it.
/\/\/\
Lysia in a leather catsuit is not something that Meredith has ever really considered before. This makes his current consideration of the matter all the more... all the more.
He's got to say something, and he's pretty surer that 'um' won't do, so he tries, "You're going to get shot and killed."
"Not if they all react like that," Lysia says, grinning.
"There's no armour on it!" Yes, this line of enquiry is definitely better than the alternative. "I can't let you go out on a battlefield like that."
"It's armoured," she assures him. "Want to do a proper examination?"
"Oh, God," Meredith almost groans. Lysia, laughing, takes pity on him.
"I really did just want your medical opinion, you moron. Here're the schematics."
He has no idea where she was keeping that memory stick, but it's sterile, so he takes it with only minimal trepidation. Lysia makes for the door, her catsuit creaking unpleasantly.#
"Oh," she adds, when she's almost there. "I'm free tonight, you know. If you want to get rid of that." A quick glance at his trousers, just in case she wasn't being clear enough.
"I hate you," Meredith says to the closing door, and gets back to sequencing the latest set virus results.
When he's sure she's gone, he marks his schedule.
Surprisingly, it doesn't feel like a betrayal.
Meredith has killed her, thrown her away and left her body out for the dogs; but it doesn't feel like a betrayal. Not when he's here, in front of her, and lying. Maria - no, Regan - whoever she is, sort that out later - knows he's lying. Meredith's always been a terrible liar; she's meeting him now for the first time, and she knows -
Now she's just confusing herself.
She, whoever she is, knows he's lying because some part of her has known him forever and a day. It's the same feeling that refuses to let her be scared of him. Meredith wouldn't.
Beatrice, apparently, would. She doesn't look altogether surprised when MariaReganWhoever turns on her. Preprepared excuses jump to her lips, and Marin/Regan catches Meredith's eye as naturally and inadvertently as if he were Chris or even Beatrice herself. They're thinking the same thing: always be prepared.
"How could you do this to me?" she asks; she's looking at Beatrice, but the question's not directed at her.
"Just luck." Meredith says it almost cheerfully, but the unspoken adjective is bad.
Now the question's directed at Beatrice, and Beatrice does not know how to answer it.
Lysia in a leather catsuit is not something that Meredith has ever really considered before. This makes his current consideration of the matter all the more... all the more.
He's got to say something, and he's pretty surer that 'um' won't do, so he tries, "You're going to get shot and killed."
"Not if they all react like that," Lysia says, grinning.
"There's no armour on it!" Yes, this line of enquiry is definitely better than the alternative. "I can't let you go out on a battlefield like that."
"It's armoured," she assures him. "Want to do a proper examination?"
"Oh, God," Meredith almost groans. Lysia, laughing, takes pity on him.
"I really did just want your medical opinion, you moron. Here're the schematics."
He has no idea where she was keeping that memory stick, but it's sterile, so he takes it with only minimal trepidation. Lysia makes for the door, her catsuit creaking unpleasantly.#
"Oh," she adds, when she's almost there. "I'm free tonight, you know. If you want to get rid of that." A quick glance at his trousers, just in case she wasn't being clear enough.
"I hate you," Meredith says to the closing door, and gets back to sequencing the latest set virus results.
When he's sure she's gone, he marks his schedule.