"Mm. It didn't snow at all on my colony—or, at least, not where I lived. We didn't have the climate for it. The only time I've seen any that wasn't on a screen was somewhere we stopped on an assignment."
Found something is a specific enough choice of words to make CT brow furrow curiously, as he goes on, her gaze lingering on Gaeta a second longer before she actually reaches to pick up the envelope.
She really couldn't say what she expects before opening it, but as she tips the old tags into her hand, the cool metal still familiar against the skin, it does somehow make sense.
Her expression is probably hard to read in those first few moments, and even CT herself would fail to shed it any light. The chain dangles over the edge of her fingers, tinkling quietly against the tabletop, and she runs her thumb over the debossed text.
"...you know, in hindsight, them not using our real names even on our tags should've been a red flag," she comments with a subdued laugh, before sliding a button on the side that makes the USB extend from within the body of the tags. "Every bit of data I gathered on that program is in here. Hidden under my medical records, where no one would think to look. I left them behind for Texas, took another copy with me. This is..."
Conflicting, in some ways—hard not to think of Texas, first, the mistake that had been. But... vindicating, in others. It's back in her hands, now. And if she ever makes it home, alive but no longer sure how much she can rely on Needles either...
She closes her fingers around the tags and smiles. "...thank you, Felix."
no subject
"Mm. It didn't snow at all on my colony—or, at least, not where I lived. We didn't have the climate for it. The only time I've seen any that wasn't on a screen was somewhere we stopped on an assignment."
Found something is a specific enough choice of words to make CT brow furrow curiously, as he goes on, her gaze lingering on Gaeta a second longer before she actually reaches to pick up the envelope.
She really couldn't say what she expects before opening it, but as she tips the old tags into her hand, the cool metal still familiar against the skin, it does somehow make sense.
Her expression is probably hard to read in those first few moments, and even CT herself would fail to shed it any light. The chain dangles over the edge of her fingers, tinkling quietly against the tabletop, and she runs her thumb over the debossed text.
"...you know, in hindsight, them not using our real names even on our tags should've been a red flag," she comments with a subdued laugh, before sliding a button on the side that makes the USB extend from within the body of the tags. "Every bit of data I gathered on that program is in here. Hidden under my medical records, where no one would think to look. I left them behind for Texas, took another copy with me. This is..."
Conflicting, in some ways—hard not to think of Texas, first, the mistake that had been. But... vindicating, in others. It's back in her hands, now. And if she ever makes it home, alive but no longer sure how much she can rely on Needles either...
She closes her fingers around the tags and smiles. "...thank you, Felix."