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"But?" Coda shifts as well, resting their hand on one hand, the other reaching out toward CT lightly. Or maybe it's an offering, that hand. Or both. Either way, it's cool and gentle.

She reaches back and takes the hand without a word, shuffling forward but not immediately following her instinct to join them on the other bed, to seek that closeness.

“There’s... a few parts to all of this. I’ve been thinking a lot about what being here in the city means, for me; about... about everything that’s happened here, what being here’s given me, who I am here.”

She breathes out slowly. Organises her thoughts. Where to start... what to say... she’s thought about all of this endlessly over the last couple of weeks, but articulating it all is harder with them right there, their hand in hers.

“I’m... I’ve told you before that I feel... I feel more me, with you, right? Like I can just be me. Be... known,” CT says, as Connie squeezes Coda’s hand. “And... and I think— I think I’d like it if you started calling me Connie, when we’re on our own. It’s... it’s my name, it’s who I was before I became CT. It’s who I feel like when I’m spending time with you.”

Her heart flutters faster and god, how is it she feels so amped up already when that’s the easy part of all of this?

"Connie." Coda's begun to understand what type of conversation this is. Which they're okay with, they know this.

"Can I move over to that bed with you?" Even without Gil's power of touch empathy, closeness is going to help here. They want to be right there with CT...no, with Connie.

Hearing that name, her name, on someone else’s lips for the first time in years, on their lips, is almost enough to make her forget how to breathe. It feels... right. To be that. To be Connie.

CT— Connie nods, giving their hand another squeeze and then a gentle tug as further affirmation. They can join her. She even shuts the still-open laptop and pushes it far out of the way.

Letting them move over gives her time to gather her words again, too.

And so Coda moves to settle on the bed comfortably, lying on their side, almost curling around where Connie's sitting and looking up at her calmly.

"I've been thinking about things sort of like that lately. Kind of because of Artemis disappearing, you know? Because...there's things I didn't say to him. That I wish I had."

Her heart about does a flip in her chest as she nods with understanding. Yeah, things like that; things you have to say before they’re gone, or you’re gone—that’s what scares her, that she’s only here as long as the simulation is. That there’s a countdown ticking down somewhere she can’t see it.

“Yeah. Yeah. I want... I want to make the most of this time I’ve been given.”

One hand raises briefly as if to reach out and touch their face, but she hesitates again; she wants to get this all laid out, first. Let them make a choice with all the information, not half.

“...after Church found that fake conversation, I... realised I’d been lying to him by omission, ever since he got here. I know things about him, and I should have told him from the start, and... and it reminded me that honesty’s still an effort, for me, you know? And it’s easier with you, too; I’ve never lied to you. I wouldn’t, not even little things, and yet there’s this... big thing, huge thing, that my fears wanted to lock away.”

She finds their hand again. That’s a good compromise.

“But I can’t do that. Fear or not. I can’t hide something so big from you.”

Coda's hand folds around Connie's. "Tell me?" It's soft. Being so close, all they need to do is whisper.

They think they might have an idea where this is going, but the words matter. And they're going to have to work out some things as well--after all, Coda's sort of entangled with Gil and Bugsy, and not sure how that'll sit with Connie.

Connie finds herself holding her breath until she makes the conscious choice to stop, to breathe evenly again. She focuses on the familiar chill of their hand against hers and, finally, oh so quietly, vulnerably: “...I love you. And— And I know that’s a strong word, that no matter how you feel that it may be too— intense, to say so soon, but I don’t have another word for it that doesn’t feel... inadequate. God, even realising that’s what I was feeling at all took Wash feeling it and telling me, I just knew you’re important, that I care about you so goddamned much and— what else can I call that? So, yeah. I— I love you, Coda.”

She can’t help but look away from their face, nervous as she is, but she never let’s go of their hand. There’s an intense sense of caring even in just that, the steady way she holds on.

"I love you, too." There's no hesitation to that. Connie is important, Connie matters to Coda so much. These little moments, the tender ones and the silly ones and even the painful ones have been vital to Coda. It is what it is, love.

"Now the more complicated piece: what do you want to do about that?"

The utter lack of hesitation visibly catches Connie off guard, eyes wide and stunned—she’d mentally braced herself for the worst, because if you’re prepared for the worst it won’t hurt so badly, and left herself unprepared for the opposite.

For them to actually feel the same.

“...I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far,” she says, and it comes with the giddy edge of a joke, even if it’s half-true. She’s looking at them again, now, expression surprised and soft. Usually so much more eloquent than she’s been here, her tongue ties itself in knots. “I— wow. Um. I’d like to be with you, if you’d like that. In... in whatever way works, for us. I want you in my life, Coda. Whatever that means.”

"Okay. Something I need to be up-front about is that I'm involved with both Gil and Bugsy in some form--I care deeply about them both. That doesn't mean you have to, and it doesn't preclude my involvement with you, it's just...I want to be open and on the same page on where things stand."

Connie's honesty is returned in kind; Coda knows better than to try to hide any of this from any party in this...web? Network. This thing they're building that makes them feel warm.

Connie nods, no hesitation and no question. “Yeah, alright. I have no problems with any of that if they don’t. I know they’re important to you, that they look after you, and it’s not like we hate each other, that’s... that’s fine, Coda, that’s good.”

And she means it, like she means everything she says to them. It’s good.

“I—” her only other concern comes separately, and the nerves return, more subdued than before. She doesn’t look away this time. “The only thing that worries me is I... I truly don’t know what happens to me when we get everyone out of here,” when, not if, because she has to remain determined that they will, “I can’t guarantee anything past the city, but... but that’s what we were saying, right? Saying it whilst we can. Whilst we’re together.”

"As Bugsy said to me the other day, 'flowers while they're here.' If this is what we get, these moments, real or not...like. We still don't know we're not brainscan copies of the people we perceive ourselves to be. 'Getting out', as noble a goal as it is, isn't guaranteed. But my hand in yours is."

They squeeze gently on Connie's hand to prove the point.

The knot of tension that had worked its way between her shoulder blades unravels and falls away. She squeezes their hand back, then, only a little nervously but so very gently, coaxes their joined hands up so she can kiss the back of theirs.

Her last relationship was far from soft and easy, and she knows even this soon that this, the way things have been with Coda, is the kind of relationship she actually craves.

“Yeah," she takes a deep breath in, then releases it, letting the meaning behind the words settle in her. "Yeah, you’re right. We’re here right now and that’s what matters.”

Edited (v late improvements at a human hour) 2021-05-29 17:33 (UTC)

Coda smiles at the little hand kiss, relaxing further until they're fluid like a cat in a sunbeam.

"I'll need to tell Bugsy and Gil about you, but that's not going to be an issue. We could have you over to join us for dinner sometime--there's always a pot of soup on. Two pots, but don't touch the smaller one unless you're feeling really fearless."

CT nods, settling their hand back in her lap and stroking soft semi-circles with her thumb across the back where she'd kissed. Any nerves in her have faded entirely.

"Colour me curious, though I don't think I'm that kind of fearless," she says with a giggle. "But that would be nice, yeah. I've been back to eating whatever room service has on offer since the NPCs came back, but things others make here is... different, no matter what it is or how it's made. I mean, I'm sure it's not in substance, but... you know."

The communal function of sharing a meal, maybe. That had been something nice about the soup kitchen set-up.

"They're made with love." It really is as simple as that. "And...you could stay in my room or on whatever bed I end up on afterwards. Because sometimes it's just like that, you pick a comfy bed or couch and call it home for the night."

"That set up really is working out for you all, huh? ...I'd like that, it's nice to have the sort of ambient noise of people around sometimes, and having you close is a welcome bonus."

It's playful, but not a joke. Slowly, Connie reaches out her other hand to gently brush her fingers against their cheek, the movement broadcasted so as to be easily redirected, moved away from or into. The hand holding theirs never strays.

Oh, Coda leans into it, closing their eyes. Don't tell anyone, but they're ferociously touch-starved, and any opportunity to get a little affection is taken with aplomb. But they have a thought in the back of their head about what Connie's just said. There is plenty of room...

They'll need to discuss it with the boys. After all, Gil's necessary for moving walls.

"It's pretty nice to have. Works out better than the random roommate thing. Speaking of, are you looking forward to a potential new face in yours?"

Connie's eyes light up, and she settles that hand so she can comfortably cup their cheek, warm against the chill, thumb repeating the gentle arc across their cheek the way she'd stroked their hand.

Connie's always been an affectionate person, with the people she cares about. CT finds it less easy, hiding behind the walls she's built, but here and now she's not CT. With Coda she's not CT, probably hasn't been for longer than she's admitted to herself.

She exhales deeply. "Looking forward to it might be a little strong, considering it's impossible to know what sort of person might appear, but... it'd be nice for it to be less quiet, I imagine anyone else who turns up would be around a lot more than Tailgate was, unless they're just as incapable of sleeping inside."

Edited (a word) 2021-06-01 00:45 (UTC)

"That'd be pretty unlikely, statistically, that you'd get another roommate who can't...room." Is that how that verb works? Does it matter? Coda doesn't seem to care very much in this moment. They lean into the touch, kissing the palm of Connie's hand.

“Mm, probably, but the city and logical probability don’t always go hand in hand,” she says, practically a hum. She watches them for a long second with eyes that it wouldn’t be wrong to call adoring, before asking: “...shuffle around a bit so I can lay down with you? If you’d like?”

This is nice, them curled up around her sitting there, but...

"You want big spoon or little spoon?" Coda's fine either way, already moving to make Connie some room. "I mean, I know you're a knife, but..."

“You know it.” Connie giggles, shuffling down to lay facing them, first. Her fingertips brush over their cheek again, and she leans to kiss them softly on the forehead. “Mm... big spoon? This time, at least. Both are nice.”

They let out a soft little hum at the forehead kiss, before rolling over to tuck in against Connie, their back to her front. "They are both nice. I tend to default to little spoon, but part of that's a height thing. Otherwise I end up more of a jetpack than a spoon, especially with Bugsy."

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liesdontfindyou - 2021-06-01 17:15 (UTC) - Expand