It's not the first time she's listened to this one, at least.
It had turned up along with all the others containing various snapshots of her life after that first fateful day investigating the Institute. Not that it makes it any more pleasant, listening to her own wrecked voice play back. The borderline delirium of seeing another person after so long trapped alone, of realising she wasn't dead and in hell.
There's only a handful of people who have ever heard her so vulnerable, and two of them are in this room.
(It could've been worse. It could've been her death.)
She swallows. "I'm— yeah. I'm alright. I think. Christ. Still barely recognise myself in that thing."
no subject
It's not the first time she's listened to this one, at least.
It had turned up along with all the others containing various snapshots of her life after that first fateful day investigating the Institute. Not that it makes it any more pleasant, listening to her own wrecked voice play back. The borderline delirium of seeing another person after so long trapped alone, of realising she wasn't dead and in hell.
There's only a handful of people who have ever heard her so vulnerable, and two of them are in this room.
(It could've been worse. It could've been her death.)
She swallows. "I'm— yeah. I'm alright. I think. Christ. Still barely recognise myself in that thing."