Scene #9549: Just Another Down On His Luck Fixer

Owner	Pose
Angela	There are bars and then there are Fixer bars that appreciate discretion and allow for private meetings and definitely don't listen in. Bars where nobody listens at the doors because getting caught will result in losing an ear or a head. "I got a private room because I wanted to talk about stuff we probably don't want getting around," Roland told Lilian rather than springing this on her suddenly since he is planning on springing ''something'' on her fairly suddenly already and he's trying to mitigate it out of a sense of responsibility spurned on by him already feeling enough guilt with regards to her and endeavouring to not add more to ''that'' pile. But even without a private room, The Arpeggio, is quiet. Found in the Backstreets of District I, more slowly recovering from the White Nights and Dark Days than even District L, the bar is nearly empty when Lilian arrives and Roland is at the lone bartender--amiable but quiet--about the need of discretion. There's a sense that they know each other and have a long professional history as the bartender just agrees to everything. The request for privacy, the open tab--everything. A piano in the corner has been systematically destroyed and is just lying in pieces on a small stage. They never bothered to clear it off. The private seating area isn't that large but it's clearly meant for small groups rather than just for private conversations between two individuals. This place used to get good business, but now it's only a matter of time it closes up. Roland gestures at any of the three tables that happen to be arrayed there but paces around a bit rather than sitting down immediately himself. The bartender pops in to take orders--Roland asks for 'the usual'--before leaving again and after a bit of pacing, he exhales, shakes out his hands, and speaks up. "I appreciate you meeting here. What I'm about to tell you, I've only really told Rita and those Redshift people--but I already have caused you enough trouble and I asked Rita's advice about it--and she said I should just tell you straight up." He reaches into his coat and withraws the mask he used when he attacked Trídéag during his rampage shortly after the Pianist interest and sets it on the table. "My name ''is'' Roland, ... and my wife's name was Angelica." Roland says. "And before that we were partners who worked together. Together, our work became known as the work of 'The Black Silence', though she's the one who was actually given the title. I ''was''knocked down to Grade 9 shortly before I joined the Library, but before that I was a Grade 1 Fixer. Olivier was the one who knocked me down. We go way back--probably was his way of looking out for me." He recollects the mask. "Wanted to make sure I told you before the wedding. Figured it'd be, uh, a little fucked up to show up in a spooky mask trying to reenact how I felt on the worst days of my life but I also--I went after you and your people. T'be honest, I don't regret most of what I did during that week, but I do regret going after your crew. Sarracenia made it seem like Trídéag--or at least the Outsiders in it--knew everything. She was talking shit about being inside the leader of L Corp's head, talking Abnormalities and shit--I didn't even know what an 'Abnormality' was--and I flew off the handle even though Olivier told me not to. Point is, I owe you a real apology and now I know enough to give you one. And I figure the best way to apologize is to tell you who I really am." He shoves his hands into his pocket. He's not really sure what to expect. Maybe it'll just be over for him.
Lilian Rook	Private bars aren't really Lilian's style, but they aren't strictly against it either. Her preference for secure conversations errs decidedly more esoteric or just slightly too realistic in terms of intelligence agent activities, so a near-mythical classic like this, extinct on her own world, lands just in the zone where she feels more anticipation than she has misgivings about the idea. For some ridiculous reason, she doesn't expect that to change when she gets there either. Lilian dresses for the occasion of course; even if it's a 'Fixer bar', it's inappropriate to blow through the door in her formal coat and Director's badge. If they know anything about anything, she reasons, she'll be quietly recognized with just the long-sleeved dress shirt and company ribbon tie. Being visibly armed means next to nothing in the City, so she doesn't dress down far enough to go without a weapon. Thoughtlessly praising Roland for knowing the slow hours, she blows in through the door two minutes before the scheduled time, tells the bartender that she has 'dinner plans later' and so asks to see the sake list, pays for a bottle to take home, and then, with misgiving eyes wandering over to the shattered piano in the corner, a different, harder to read expression crosses her face. ". . . And a four hundred million bounty for you to replace that thing. It's sad to look at." she says. "And don't cheap out; I'll know if you install some thirty million entry model and pocket the rest." She sighs, shakes her head, and moves over to Roland's table. Her pleasant smile fades when she sees Roland play out his nervous tic. The words she'd just meant to speak, "It's always a pleasant surprise to see you get out of work like this; especially with some time to yourself.", come out anyways, but her expression of guarded concern mutes their coded fondness. 'I appreciate you meeting here. What I'm about to tell you, I've only really told Rita and those Redshift people--' Lilian focuses on Roland, all of a sudden; ignoring the empty glass that she'd been staring at as a polite distraction to let him settle. Her eyes say 'what is this about?' with more wariness than her lips could. 'but I already have caused you enough trouble and I asked Rita's advice about it--and she said I should just tell you straight up.' "I don't recall having any particular reason for mislike." Lilian says, neutrally. "That issue with your workplace; that was just business." She won't say 'the Library' out loud, even with this place's reputation. "But Rita is a darling for saying so." The embers of her cautious optimism are snuffed out the instant Roland withdraws the mask from his coat. A cold breeze can be felt passing through the room, though it disturbs not so much as a hair. There's nowhere it could come from but her. 'My name ''is'' Roland' Lilian breathes in deep. Something assuaging comes to mind, strenuously. 'and my wife's name was Angelica.' Then she bites down on her lip, and swallows it. Her intent to calm down Roland and have him explain; all the poise that comes with it; it vanishes the moment she hears Angelica's name, and the hot, bitter sting crawls up the back of her throat unbidden. She swallows a second time, as if she could force it down.
Lilian Rook	'Together, our work became known as the work of 'The Black Silence', though...' 'but before that I was a Grade 1 Fixer. Olivier was the one who knocked me down. We go way back...' 'Wanted to make sure I told you before the wedding. Figured it'd be...' 'I went after you and your people. T'be honest, I don't regret most of what I did during that week, but I do regret going after your...' The torrent of Roland's unburdening feels as if it only flows around her. Lilian feels herself bobbing on the current, aware of the tides of guilt and indignation, remorse and unsettled scores, coming in and out as his feelings vacillate, too much and too fast to narrow down to a single point, but she doesn't feel herself going anywhere. Lost in that moment of knowing, unmoored, adrift, Lilian unfocuses from Roland's apology as the phantom ringing begins in her ears, and gets louder and louder until she almost can't hear him anymore, right up until the moment it snaps; bursting like a bubble. 'She was talking shit about being inside the leader of L Corp's head, talking Abnormalities and...' "I'm so sorry." Lilian says. She stops holding her breath, and it comes back in a shudder. No matter how she forces the air into her lungs, it feels like there's too little of it. "She wouldn't have died if I fought just a little bit harder, somehow." No matter how she arranges her vocal cords, her voice comes out as if strained through a sieve. "Or . . . perhaps if I hadn't fought at all. If I just let Angela and the others have their way, there'd never have been a Pianist at all, wouldn't there? But there'd be a 'pianist' some day. And . . ." Her hands rise from the table, magnetically drawn to her face. Her palms press to her temples. Her eyes angle down. Her pink brushes back and forth across her scar. "I thought about her. Every day of the White Nights and Dark Days. Rita told me I could get through it, fighting every day, non-stop, if I just thought about who I was trying to protect; if I imagined them cheering me on. I really did. I thought about her coming to my wedding, and I thought about seeing her children grow up in a City that was so different from this muddy blood-soaked hell, and I thought I could keep pushing because I was making a future where her husband wouldn't have to keep worrying about her. And so . . ." 'And I figure the best way to apologize is to tell you who I really am.' "Don't." Lilian croaks. "If I'd made up my mind to kill Angela a year ago, none of this would have happened. Angelica is dead because I wanted Angela to live too. Don't apologize to me. Least of all me." Lilian squeezes her eyes shut, and shakes her head. "No, not least of all, but, I don't want to hear it. Rita and I-- we really did our best, but what's happening now is because we didn't manage to get all of it, so . . ." She grinds the heels of her palms into her eyes. Better than feeling them sting. She grits her teeth, holds her breath to the count of ten, and releases it again. "Why this? Why pretend?" Lilian sighs. "What are you planning to do? And why does it involve the Library?"
Angela	Roland also, like, wanted to express a normalish meeting place because he was worried he'd come off like he was about to come after Lilian with a knife or something. When you're an assassin not high on their own fumes, you can be pretty sensitive about this thing. The bartender's eyes widen and he looks to Roland, "Got a wealthy friend there, Roland." "People here have a thing against pianos lately, I'm sure, but it's not actually gonna help. So might as well have the piano." Roland quips back. "Do me a favor and make her happy." The shift is visceral, even if it's just a cold pulse. But it doesn't really matter where it comes from, or if it came at all, Roland would still be feeling cold like he was in the process of freezing solid. Maybe he hesitated as long as he did, he thinks, because he was sort of enjoying just ... being a normal down on his luck Fixer with normal down on his luck Fixer problems, playing out like he's one of those normal Elites who fought over the fate of his home with his home none the wiser. "Maybe. Or maybe we'd all be playing the piano now, though I guess if we all became monsters, maybe that'd be better--wouldn't exactly be worrying or suffering then, I'd just be ... doing whatever it was I'd be doing." Roland rubs at his eyes with his hand. "I don't know everything about that week you were fighting, but I know it was rough. On you, on Angela, Petra. If Angelica helped you get through that week, I know she would've gushed to me about it for weeks." Despite Angelica being dead, he can't help but smile thinking about it. "She was experimented on by the Wings as a kid--her brother too. I mean, everything I found pointed to the Spiders but only the Wings throw their leftovers out into the Outskirts. There she was found by a woman you know--Iori. She trained the three of us, but they were the talented ones. She was the one who got me into the Library too. She agreed real easy." While it's clear he knows that Iori is 'up to something', he also doesn't seem to particularly care that he's being her pawn in some way. Whatever it is, it got him where he wanted to be for his own reasons. "I think she wanted to see your family too. I think ... the idea of 'building a family' just really appealed to her. She talked how much you were doing for the City, but I think she just really liked that you ... were planning for the future, you know? That those plans seemed real and at hand." ''If I'd made up my mind to kill Angela a year ago, none of this would have hpapened. Angelica is dead because I wanted Angela to live too.'' "...You know, I'm glad I was patient and listened to the stories, eased them out of people, because now ... I kind of get why you'd feel that way. Locking some kid into a basement to oversee your monster factory and then kill them when the work's done... Man, it puts a sick taste in my mouth. The people I really ought to be seeking vengeance on died before I could meet 'em." He pours himself a drink, mostly so he can look at something besides an empty glass. "Alright, if you don't want to hear it, I won't press it. But I'm not mad at you, Lilian. Maybe you could've tried harder, but you were fighting people you cared about for her. That's more than anybody else in this City would do. What am I supposed to do... Be mad you've got complicated feelings?"
Angela	But why pretend? "...Well when I first showed up, Angela freaked out and ripped off my limbs so--it's not like I could've just assassinated her then and there even if I wanted to. I already made the mistake of flying off the handle--Red Dwarf really got me to calm down. Like, he really got me. So I decided, since I was there and Angela decided to employ me instead of kill me, I should--try to get the whole story. Not just to make sure I had the right target this time, but ... just understand what happened that day. I was going crazy wondering just how something so random could come out of nowhere and take my life away from me--" He pauses. "--nah, her life away from her. I was just lucky to be a part of it." ''What are you planningg to do? And why does it involve the Library?'' Another good question that Roland didn't immediately have an answer for. He's gone through so many answers to that question. To take revenge on Angela, to take revenge on Petra, to figure out what's going on. Maybe some part of him just wants to kill The City and if he has to work with the people most or semi responsible for what happened, so be it. He thinks of a strange phrase that The Purple Tear told him before he arrived there. "...Angela. She's getting weaker the closer she gets to her goal. I might be able to do something once she's at the cusp of victory." And what is he going to do? Just kill her and then live an empty life? "But I don't know what I'm going to do at that point." Roland admits. "Sure, maybe I should kill her--that's The City way of doing things. Kill the people who kill people you like. It doesn't really matter the circumstances. 'This is this, and that is that'." Unlike other Fixers who've said that, Roland seems tired of the phrase even as it embodies him. He's confident Angelica would have liked Angela, which might be the most maddening thing of all about this. "But she's also someone who wasn't really raised by The City. She never really knew what it was really like out here. I bet you know it better, Petra definitely does. I know she didn't ask to be put in that situation in the first place. So maybe she'll give me a reason not to." He sighs. "...I don't know, maybe it's fucked up of me to not just go straight to revenge murder as soon as I've got the opportunity? Like ... maybe I'm not honoring Angelica enough? I want to think that she'd prefer I build a future rather than just being something to fear my whole life, but I feel like I'm failing her." His words get hoarser with every moment. Guilt and regret for having complicated feelings over what every cultural push tells him should be very very simple, regret for not being able to save her, guilt for not yet avenging her. And behind all that, a kind of emptiness that he feels will never be filled again. A black silence that is slowly overtaking his soul well before he croaks. "I killed that man, Murdoch, all he wanted was to protect his kid. Someone he tried to be that warmth for and he just failed. He just couldn't do it."
Lilian Rook	'Or maybe we'd all be playing the piano now, though I guess if we all became monsters, maybe that'd be better--' "Don't say that." Lilian snaps, suddenly, louder than she meant to. She glances down apologetically, but can't possibly think of how to explain. "Please. Neither of those things, but especially not the latter." 'I don't know everything about that week you were fighting, but I know it was rough. On you, on Angela, Petra.' "It was rough on them because I was out to kill them." It's so matter-of-fact that it'd stun someone if she had any energy behind it; anything but hollow post-acceptance so far after the fact that her feelings feel a million miles away. "What Lobotomy Corp was up to was something meant to change the City for the better. The Bright Nights and Dark Days were planned out. The Wing was never meant to survive any longer than that. It wasn't supposed to need to. It was meant to give everyone . . . I don't know how to put it. Should I say 'the potential to be a Colour'? To change things, people, so that anyone could reach deep inside their hearts, and pull out a power they didn't know they had; not only the gifted, tortured, desperate few." Whether or not she simply trust's Roland's choice, has forgotten all about her attempts at security, or simply doesn't care anymore; it's impossible to tell. Lilian's slow charnel march through what she thinks Angelica's husband deserves to know doesn't seem to acknowledge any of them. "Angela was built to be used up for that purpose and disposed of. I don't blame her for not wanting to die; you can't ever ask someone to lay down and give up their life for people they've never met, and especially when you've never once done right by them. Only she knew, and she kept it secret; she always intended to seize her chance to escape, no matter if it threw out everything the Wing's founders dreamed and damned the City as a result." "And . . . even though I never wanted to harm her all, even though I only wished the best for her, I couldn't accept that. Rita either. The both of us felt that the people of the City deserved the chance not to lay down and die either. So we had a big fight about it. And if I told Petra to join me, that'd have been it; Angela would be dead. But she knew it'd break my heart to just . . . walk in and murder her, helpless to stop me, so she rallied up useless pawns like Sundew and the others, and our 'big fight about it' dragged on and on and on. And in the end, what the City got wasn't for everyone; it just moved the bar on how tortured and desperate you have to be, and twisted that power into something else. It's all we could manage, between the people who'd throw away the City for Angela, and the endless flood of monsters that'd be released on the City if we stopped for even a moment. It was hell." 'I think she wanted to see your family too. I think ... the idea of 'building a family' just really appealed to her.' Lilian breathes in shakily again. She doesn't bother to think about it. No matter how much time she takes searching for the words, she knows that she doesn't have any that matter. 'That those plans seemed real and at hand.' "They were." Lilian glances up, between her fingers. "They really were, Roland. But I wasn't cruel enough to see them through-- No, I stubbornly insisted on not being that cruel, and the City punished us all for it, like it always, always does." 'The people I really ought to be seeking vengeance on died before I could meet 'em.' "They got off easy in the end." she says, numbly. "They always do. There's never anything that makes it feel even in the end."
Lilian Rook	'What am I supposed to do... Be mad you've got complicated feelings?' "I'd be upset if you decided to get cross with me." Lilian says. The thought of it cracks her up, a hoarse laugh breaking her numbed affect. She runs her hands down her face, and sighs, then decides to follow suit with Roland, pouring her glass full. "No matter how miserable I feel about it, nobody has the right to blame me but me. In the end, we all did our best; me, Rita, you, Angelica, even Argalia; and the City, chaos and entropy, wouldn't have it. The only one who should rot in Hell for this is whoever used to be the Pianist, and he's long gone." 'I already made the mistake of flying off the handle--Red Dwarf really got me to calm down. Like, he really got me.' "That lunatic is surprisingly good at that." Lilian says, finally taking a drink. It feels like workplace gossip, now, even as exhausted as she is. She doesn't even say anything when Roland implies exactly what he intends. Not until he says, 'But I don't know what I'm going to do at that point.' "I don't know what I'm going to do right now." Lilian says. Her glass clacks back down on the table. "I care about her. I saw some of myself in her back in those days, even. I'm angry, but I don't hate her for what she's done; I'd do the same in her position. But I can't just let her do it. It's not right; not according to everything I . . . everything I have to believe in. I couldn't just let her, and still be someone I could stand being. And it's all the worse for the fact that I'm certain she still cares about me too; or at least she doesn't want to sever what tenuous connection we still have left, from back when we were on the same side. She's been careful not to provoke Trídéag at the very least. So . . ." Lilian tries to shrug, but can't quite be bothered. "I couldn't tell you either way." 'I want to think that she'd prefer I build a future rather than just being something to fear my whole life, but I feel like I'm failing her.' "But we both know she would." Lilian says. "She wouldn't care at all if you killed Angela, and it'd break her heart if you died trying. So, it's stupid." she says. "But if it were Tamamo, I wouldn't lie down and take it either. I'd never let anyone forget the consequences of what they did, and I'd make it so that the whole world knows. I'd start with everyone the Pianist ever knew, then everyone who backed Lobotomy Corp, then I'd work my way up through T Corp, R Corp, and finally the Head. I'd burn down every single thing that ever had a hand in it, careless and blind, letting one thing lead to another, and say to the whole City 'maybe you'll think twice about it from now on'. So I shouldn't tell you what to do either." 'I killed that man, Murdoch, all he wanted was to protect his kid. Someone he tried to be that warmth for and he just failed. He just couldn't do it.' "We all want the best." Lilian says. "He tried more than most ever do. But he gave up on it all, too. The moment he did, he chose to die, and he knew it; in the war, or in the reckoning that'd come after. No matter the noble man he used to be, the kind wishes he held, he sold his soul to guilt, and meant to sell off Elibe to Zephiel to grovel to heaven for failing him." "Whether or not it was the right thing to do, it was inevitable."
Angela	''Don't say that.'' Roland flinches. He presses his lips shut and gives her a quiet nod, though he can't quite stop thinking it. He thinks of the true goal of the project. To give everybody the 'potential to be a Colour'? It's crazy to imagine but after experiencing the 'Pianist', it feels distressingly plausible. "Guess Angela's really not to blame for the shape the District's in." Except of course for being in the way of that damned project 'fixing' all the problems of The City. Honestly, he's not sure it was ever going to. The change people like Lilian have brought to the City feels more real to him, actually tangible--maybe doomed, but real. He drinks his liquor to calm his nerves. Frankly, it was a silly risk to tell Lilian any of this, but it's a bit reassuring to him still that he can still feel guilt and unease. That he can still worry about what is right even if it's totally unecessary. Once he loses that, he figures, then he wouldn't need a mask anymore. And that frightens him more than anything. He nods along to what Lilian shares about what Angela was supposed to be. Frankly, it wasn't hard to see Angela's damage. Sometimes she just let it all out screaming showing off all those scars before going quiet again. When Petra's not there, when nobody is but those she feels she can be weak and pathetic in front of. That's how she'd put it. He thinks about Sarracenia, he thinks about that ''excitement'' in her eyes when he attempted to take her prisoner to interrogate her. At first it just sent a strange chill down his back but then he learned it was something more than just that for her. He hates her. He hates her for not taking his relationship with Angelica seriously. For trying to use him for her own story like those Abnormalities do. But as soon as he does that, his goals are toast. Be normal, he tells himself. Don't let what is obvious be the only truth. "Yeah." He admits. "I bet it was. I saw enough video. Engaged with Abnormalities myself enough now." And knows that he too will probably end up fighting someone he actually knows eventually. Angela's very nature would demand it. ''They got off easy in the end. They always do.'' "I guess that's why murder never made me feel better. There's always someone who slipped out of my reach. I feel more janitor than assassin, and not even that good of one." He can see himself in Murdoch. He can see himself opening himself up to the blades of the City just to satisfy his own damn guilt and grief. But saying that to Lilian feels cruel, so he doesn't. It was inevitable. Like that black silence for most. He wishes that term still felt slightly edgy and embarrassing than how consuming it does now. He chuckles briefly at the mention of Red Dwarf being a lunatic. "When in the madhouse, might as well get to know the most sensible loon."
Angela	''I don't know what I'm going to do right now.'' Roland takes another drink. What's he going to do? Not even he knows what he's going to do right now. Hell, he even does care about Angela now. It's unavoidable when you spend that amount of time with someone even if you're planning on sticking a sword in their back. Everything she has to believe, Roland thinks. He'd have missed that before, but he thinks he understands a bit better the importance of that distinction from 'everything she believes'. There are things Roland has to believe. Things he is desperate to, needing and begging, to feel... real. "Pretty sure she wants to make you proud, even now--somehow. 'Once I've broken every shackle binding me, then I'll be free to be ''respectable'' for her.'." He laughs into his drink. "If I really hurt you or Xion in that fight, I think she would've torn my head off. Or maybe just ... I don't know. I'm glad you were able to save that kid. Honestly, didn't even know that was possible." But how could he fight with all he's got, seeing himself and Angelica in those two the second time around he couldn't the first time. She wouldn't care if she killed Angela. Maybe not if she didn't know anything, but if she knew everything he did? Would she be disappointed? Or would she understand? She probably wouldn't be too thrilled if he died in the process, that's for sure. She'd kill him, if he died doing something like that and in The City that's not all that an impossibility all the time. "Hope you never go through it." Roland says. He can't really say 'your partner is too tough to kill' to anyone anymore. It all feels so plausible for people to just vanish in an instant. He can't help but wonder that the fact that he hasn't done all that yet is a sign that his love isn't as strong--but maybe that's just City living for you. He's just grateful he didn't shrug his shoulders and say 'well what could I have done? That's just what happens here'. "I appreciate it." Roland tells Lilian. "I probably won't know until the moment comes to me." It sounds like what Iori had prophecized to him, anyway. "Hope I can still come to the wedding. If it's too uh--complicated, I understand--" He can't quite utter the phrase 'when I return to the Flow I'd like to tell her about it' because even that idea is a comfort that feels alien to him. "I can just drop the gift off--" He then rubs at his neck, weirdly sheepish. He sort of feels the urge to put that mask back on, but he resists for now. "I meant what I said though. About her being a source of strength for you back then. It helps knowing she was more than just some badass to someone." He lets out a long sigh, looking up to the ceiling. "...Argalia is helping Angela out for some reason but I really doubt it's just to help her out."
Lilian Rook	'I guess that's why murder never made me feel better.' "I don't know. I feel like I could give it a shot one day." Lilian says, sullen-facetious, like she's staring at a contact named 'definitely not' on her phone. "That's the fucked part though, isn't it? The City desperately wants you to kill and be killed, but it makes doing it so pointless and hollow. It can't even be bothered to reward what it wants; only punish what it doesn't." 'When in the madhouse, might as well get to know the most sensible loon.' "He has his moments. And despite his attitude, he did help me out once." 'Honestly, didn't even know that was possible.' "I didn't either." Lilian says. "I just new that day was coming eventually. It was earlier than I liked, but I had to accept it'd happened when it did, and get through it with the most poise that I could. You don't get to pick when it comes your turn to shoulder the burden." She sighs, pausing for another drink; longer than the first one. "At least now that it's not 'survival' weighed against 'all the city', there can be something resembling rules and limits." 'Hope you never go through it.' "I don't intend to." Lilian says. "And I don't intend to put her through it either. Unlike the others, I know what my life is worth, I don't gamble with it, and there's one thing on Earth that could ever make me spend it." 'Hope I can still come to the wedding. If it's too uh--complicated, I understand--' "Of course you can." Lilian says, glancing across the table. She looks surprised. "I wouldn't rescind an invitation like that. If nothing else, you have to attend for Angelica too." The bitter smile comes and goes quickly. "And however things go, I'd like both you and Angela to have that happy memory." 'I meant what I said though. About her being a source of strength for you back then. It helps knowing she was more than just some badass to someone.' "I don't think I'm going to stop thinking about her soon, Roland. I don't think I could put what Rita said out of my mind now if I wanted to. I have to imagine that she still wants to see those dreams come true." '...Argalia is helping Angela out for some reason but I really doubt it's just to help her out.' Lilian sighs. She stares into her glass, but the will doesn't come to her. "I'll assign someone to find out." she says, half-heartedly. "But right now, I'd like it if we could just have a drink and talk about old times."
Angela	It doesn't really occur to Roland that maybe there's something to think about that he's actually helping Angela out now too. But maybe that's why he's sure Argalia has some other motive, just like he does. And maybe that's the kind of guy Red Dwarf is. A guy who despite everythihng will help you when it seems no other soul will. He needs to check in with him again, soon. He promised. And something tells him that he's not completely clued in either. ''It can't even be bothered to reward what it wants. Only punish what it doesn't.'' And it's all so interconnected and fucky that you'd slice through four ropes to cut through one, Roland thinks. Not that he's the type to fret about that. He doubts there's any sort of reward waiting for him, but maybe when he last closes his eyes--he'll feel he only managed to fail himself. "Someone's gotta teach this place about the carrot and ease off the stick." But he nods. That's right. Even if Angela is trapped in that place forever, she isn't exactly in danger of dying any time soon. Despite her feelings on the matter, it isn't just stuck doing the same orphan grinding as before. He nods quietly, mulling over the words. ''You have to attend for Angelica too.'' Roland flinches back in surprise himself, eyes wide. He really is bad at obscuring his intentions without that mask on, and his feelings. It's a wonder he's been able to keep this whole fake identity going as long as he has. Did she pluck something out of my mind, he can't help but wonder, but ultimately it's--actually nice to hear, and a little silly to complain about. "...Yeah. She'd give me grief if I couldn't tell her all about it and be all amazed at the ceremony." Roland admits. "Plus I gotta drop off what she'd gotten for you." Something besides the snacks she delivered before as part of that Deyvat Escort mission. It really is a comfort. He has to imagine that Argalia hasn't just left her behind either, for all their differences and for all they don't get along. Some part of him aches that he didn't have a good enough relationship with the man so that they could grieve with one another. But honestly if they had, maybe it'd be only good for them. She's not entirely gone, he tells himself. He quietly vows that no matter how often they cross swords, that if anything were to threaten those two, if anything at all--he wouldn't be late that time. ''But right now, I'd like it if we could just have a drink and talk about old times.'' Roland smiles, "Oh yeah, that sounds great. I gotta load you up with all sorts of embarrassing Olivier stories to torment him with--" It's what Olivier would do to him so it's only fair, Roland thinks.