17- Video

[bodilesswarrior]

[Her hands are clasped in front of her, lips a thin line. She looks more irritated than traumatised.

She can still feel the press of a mask, if she tries.]

Well, that was fun. [Her voice is dry and flat.]

Status, everyone?

[Private to people who went through the door]

What did you see? What do you remember?

[Private to the Emperor]

[A wry smile curves her lips.]

Guess the breach was prophetic.

[Private to Bond]

[It's a different sort of smile, this time, slight and sharp.]

I would have beaten you eventually.

[Not she; it would be easier, to think that way, but not particularly honest.]

Comments

[spaaaaaam]

[routemistress]

[She's not, exactly, embarrassed. She just... kind of is, a bit.]

Aye. Even before the flood, a bit. Not planning on going anywhere with it. Just.

[For fuck's sake stop her.]

[spaaaaaam]

[bodilesswarrior]

[She should find it amusing, probably. She dips her head, as if she could hide the smile.]

He does that.

Even if you started off wanting to throw him overboard.

[spaaaaaam]

[routemistress]

That's it, you laugh at me soft 'earts. Oooh, you're a cruel 'ard woman, Barbara Gordon.

[The most theatrical anguish.]

...s'why I love you. And overboarding 'im's not off the table yet.

[spaaaaaam]

[bodilesswarrior]

[And that makes her laugh, light and soft.

Then her brow furrows, a little, as her mind is cast back to another life.]

We had a - thing, in Aeris Navem. Nothing happened, but it was - simmering. [She's never spoken of it, barely thought of it, because that's easier. Less complicated.]

[spaaaaaam]

[routemistress]

[Now that has Iris sitting up and taking notice. A little grumpily.]

That man's got no business going round simmering at people. Bloody liberty, if you ask me.

[And then the grumpy collapses into an amused smirk.]

Glad or sorry? The truth, now.

[spaaaaaam]

[bodilesswarrior]

Weird. [She's back to smiling, wry and rueful.] He was never - he was dad's friend.

[Okay, she might have had a bit of a - ]

[spaaaaaam]

[routemistress]

[Iris props herself up on her elbows; she's smirking like a cat now.]

Never and Dad's friend aren't technically mutually exclusive, you know.
Oooooh, I 'ope 'is ears are burning. First 'e simmers at you and now 'e's messing up our Bechdel compliance. I'm definitely going to 'ave to punch 'im now. It's in the rules.

[She considers, and her eyes narrow in cruel amusement.]

Or 'it 'im with some carefully chosen lines from Yeats. Bianca liked Yeats a lot.

[spaaaaaam]

[bodilesswarrior]

Oh, I'm the cruel one. [But that's what she loves about Iris, too; one among many, and some that contradict.]

Maybe you can write some Yeats on your fist.

[spaaaaaam]

[routemistress]

[Iris furrows her brow and considers this very seriously.]

...Bugger. The only one that works is The Second Coming. Which all right, it's quality verse, that. But so overused.

[The mirth bubbles up gently under her breastbone, and she's still, letting its champagne warmth rise up into her cheeks, her eyes, until it spills finally into the air. Iris rolls onto her back, almost hiccuping with it, and it's a moment before she can speak again.]

This is why I love you, you're always so practical.

[spaaaaaam]

[bodilesswarrior]

[Barbara closes her eyes for a minute, letting Iris' laughter fill her head.]

You'd want to use fresh ink, of course. Or maybe there's a world where ink never dries?

[spaaaaaam]

[routemistress]

Messy. Maybe I should make some rings and 'ave it embossed backwards. Paint it in bruises.

[That idea pleases her visibly, and she rolls half-upright again.]

...That might be too good to waste on Harvey, actually. What'd your snappy slogan be?