Carve

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**pinkgothic**:

He was waiting for her after work the next day, his body language a muted mixture of anxiety and apology. One of Leila's colleagues passed him, taking note of the posture, glancing over his shoulder to Leila, and with mild amusement scrunching his brows toward her as though to ask 'seriously, this guy?'. The subtext wasn't fully apparent - was the implication that he thought they'd gone on a failed date? Or was it just a silent acknowledgement that [[character:mateo kasun|Mateo]] had clearly screwed something up?

Either way, Mateo didn't notice, and her colleague had filed out quickly.

"Hey," Mateo said, softly, as soon as it became unambiguous that he meant her. "I'm sorry about the other day." 'The other day', as though it hadn't just been yesterday. There were no tell-tale marks on him, but the fingers of his left arm still looked a little unnaturally slack; maybe lingering effects of the nerve blockers?

**Nymphetamine**:

Leila had plenty of time to think about what she could've done differently that wouldn't have made the day before go so horrendously wrong. Having been plenty assertive, and perhaps overly so, she had gone on to offend her host, and made him uncomfortable. So the following day, distracted as she might have been, she did her work with only half interest. The rest was focused on still trying to mull out what she could to amend the situation. Though they were relatively new friends, (if they were still friends at all), she shouldn't have pushed him the way that she had. When she found him waiting for her, and her colleague's wrongful assumptions, she brushed the latter aside and instead focused on the former. A weak smile touched her lips as she looked at Mateo, her hands coming to fidget near her waist. His apology brightened that smile just a tad. "Me too," she said quietly, eyes falling away from his face as if ashamed that she had made him uneasy. "I was being inappropriate, and I'm sorry for that."

**pinkgothic**:

He sucked in his lips until they disappeared past his teeth, leaving only a thin crevice for his mouth. For an awkward moment, he said nothing, then glanced past her, watching the last of her colleagues file out. "You're curious," he said, in a tone of understanding. "There's nothing wrong with that." His hands were by now folded against each other, but not quite central before him, fingers of his left hand mostly enveloped by his right, squeezing the joints lightly.

**Nymphetamine**:

With eyes that were looking down, she caught sight of his own hands, the way that one cradled the other. She watched for a few seconds with obvious intensity and interest before her gaze lifted to his own. Still smiling quietly, she asked, "Are you alright?" A vague gesture to his hands was made with one of her own, a look of concern washing over her face.

**pinkgothic**:

The question seemed to do him more pain than anything that might have previously plagued him. //Why would you even ask that?// almost fell out of his mouth, but instead he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath. "You know where I'm from, right?" he asked, as though that answered anything at all.

**Nymphetamine**:

Immediately regretting this with the change in his expression, she just waited for him to reply. What she wasn't expecting was the question asking after his hometown. Wracking her brain for an answer to that question, she finally settled on, "No?" It sounded like a question, though it was mostly just uncertainty. If she had heard where he was from, she had forgotten it. "Sorry. Where are you from?" And why did it matter to this conversation just now? But she didn't say that part aloud.

**pinkgothic**:

"Do you know anything at all about Neiphil, [[location:earth:euryalia|Euryalia]]?" he asked, answering the question by asking another. His right hand had let go of his left, which was now back to hanging casually by his side.

The last of Leila's colleagues that were filing out had left. There would be some on other shifts still in the green house compartments, but it was the quietest it would get until she'd return to her own. Still, there was a mild discomfort in Mateo's posture. Maybe it was right to suggest going somewhere more private? What they'd last spoken about was, after all, not really fit for public consumption.

**Nymphetamine**:

Looking away from him as her co-workers filed out the door aside them, she waited for them to go before she turned back to him. An expression of concern creased her face as she considered what was best. "Here, lemme host you at my place. You know, it's only fair that I return the favour from yesterday," she said quietly, lifting a hesitant hand to his shoulder but then thinking better of it before it could land there. She wasn't really sure how he felt about tactile contact and it seemed rather impolite to just presume. Awkwardly withdrawing it, she extened the other to the door to let him precede her out.

**pinkgothic**:

He seemed at once guilty and flustered, a strange combination, but made no verbal complaint and started following after her gesture and lead, trailing after her as soon as they were both through the gate between green house and base.

Base aesthetics were and always had been 'submarine', although formally a little more spaceous. Two and a half people could just about fit in a corridor shoulder to shoulder. With the occasional wall-mount such as a first-aid kit, fire-extinguisher, breaker box, emergency vacsuits or sturdy vent-cover, people walked in file, not in clusters.

Mateo and Leila were the same, with Mateo behind her like a confused puppy.

**Nymphetamine**:

She led the way away from the greenhouse down the winding tube-like passages towards the basic crew's quarters, passing through that way in relatively short order. Her room was located about halfway down the crew's quarters, and after passing the biometric lock, they could file inside. It was much like his own room, save much smaller and without the delightful company of his cat any longer. Neat and tidy, with everything in its place, and lovely printed out landscapes hanging on the walls without frames, it was about as homey as the crew quarters would ever look. She gestured for him to take a seat wherever he might, not exactly being a large enough room for the nice little table set he had in his own room.

**pinkgothic**:

With privacy restored, he simply leant against a blank spot of wall rather than sit down, and repeated his question softly, only slightly altering it: "What do you know about Neiphil, Euryalia?"

**Nymphetamine**:

Giving it genuine though, she wracked her brain for any information she had on the location he named, but she finally shook her head. "Not a whole lot, I'm afraid..." She didn't even know that's where Mateo was from, though she was probably about to find out.

**pinkgothic**:

"Neiphil is a Hansa - a kind of free economic zone, charter city, or city-state, depending on how you view it. It has a significant amount of legal autonomy, but is still taxed on the level of Euryalia. There's been a secessionist movement for a while," he said, imparting the information in an impartial tone, like a scholar.

Then: "I grew up there. There's a significant values dissonance between Neiphil and Euryalia. I agree with the secessionists that it should be a separate nation. Micronation. That said, Neiphil is more Euryalian than Mars is Terran. We have extremely different needs up here than back home.

"Which is a long-winded way to say: I don't love the rules. They're our political reality, but I don't love them."

**Nymphetamine**:

"I see..." A succinct way of expressing that she had taken in the information from him, absorbed it, and was still processing it, chewing on it like a bit of gristle. "I don't much care for //stupid// rules, but I suppose some of them make sense..." Leila sounded dubious, as if she wasn't entirely sure that was her own opinion on the subject. But perhaps this is just how it related to the forbidden nature of asking him to teach her sorcery... Pursing her lips for a moment, she moved about her neat little apartment to find them glasses for water. She was not well stocked on tea at the moment, having completely forgot that it was in fact a thing.

**pinkgothic**:

Mateo seemed set on remaining where he was for no, making no move to sit down. The silent agitation between them thrummed with everything thus far unsaid. It dragged on almost to point of discomfort, before he decided to say at least some things: "Everyone up here has good credentials. We lock our doors out of habit, not because anyone would steal anything. We don't have or need police; the strict hierarchy in the different divisions is enough."

Whether intentionally or just by accident of narrative flow, he neglected to mention that the sorcerers were a striking exception - formally they reported to Sandrine, to the degree they could be said to be reporting to anyone, but she wasn't a subject-matter expert like Leila's own boss, and made no decisions on sorcery. Regardless, reporting lines were clear across the board.

"That will change once Mars is better-terraformed, of course, and we start to have actual children here, families that have their own little plans, traditions and ethics, but right now we're all here for one reason: To let Mars succeed." It sounded like the beginning of a longer speech, but he stopped there, out of momentum for the time being.

**Nymphetamine**:

She listened to him as he spoke, knowing full well that he was correct about everything. It was not an easy thing to get one of these jobs on Mars. Leila had to go through extensive vetting of her credentials and references, but once she had, she had been excited. Dome life was alright, but she hoped to see the day Mars flourished with vegetation and children. Second generation Martians that would take up those mantles after their parents. A wonderful dream, and she had to shake her head to return to the present moment. "You're right. No police, no presidents or prime ministers, or whatever... It'll be strange to see how Mars will develop, but it's exciting, also, isn't it?"

**pinkgothic**:

Mateo responded to the question with an ambiguous silence. With a light shrug, he said: "We're the ones developing it."

**Nymphetamine**:

Brows furrowed for a moment at the somewhat uninspired response, but she ended up brushing pasting it. "Well. //I// think it's pretty exciting..." As if this counter point was necessary to reiterate. She approached him, offering him one of the glasses of water she had poured.

**pinkgothic**:

"Sure, I'm not claiming otherwise, but it's in our hands," he said, as he picked up the glass in the same, taking a sip, nodding gratefully for the shared water ration. "We can make it as exciting or boring as we want. And boring can be good. In this context, boring means peaceful."

**Nymphetamine**:

"Boring means //safe//," she said in near automatic repsonse. One did not want excitement in the domes. The conversation seemed cicular almost, rounding about on itself like the ouroboros. After he took the glass, she backed up out of his space to lean against the wall, her eyes still regarding him with quiet curiosity. They hadn't really touched down on the subject of him teaching her sorcery, but she was also unsure about bringing it up with him after how disasterously it went last time.

**pinkgothic**:

He nodded mutely for a few seconds, then punctuated the pause by drinking some more of his water. "And it has been," he said, meaning 'safe'. "And will continue to be for the foreseeable future. And we have plenty of educated people up here, which I think are in the best position to know what's good for Mars."

**Nymphetamine**:

"You're right," she said quietly, managing another quiet smile for him. "Building a whole new world up here." It was perhaps a little romanticized in her mind, but she was taking it seriously. Leaning against the wall of her small quarters, she watched him. "So now what?" It was such an open ended question that she left out in the open like that. It could mean anything, the mundane conversation about life on Mars, or perhaps his choice to decline to speak of her initial, sorcery-ladened query.

**pinkgothic**:

//Now what?// He cradled his gaze in his glass, and the glass in his hands. //So you should make the Mars you think is right,// was the logical progression of what he'd said and what he wanted to say. It still felt dangerous - not in a sense of illegality, but in a sense that he might be setting himself up for getting egg on his face.

//So you should choose for yourself which rules are good and which ones are baggage,// was another framing that said the same thing, but that wording only invited misinterpretation, even with the context he'd given.

"I don't know," he said, finally, visibly dissatisfied with his own response. "What do you want out of Mars? What's important to you?"

**Nymphetamine**:

Leila pondered that. What was important to her. What the hell she was even doing on Mars in the first place. It had been a streak of adventure, the unknowing, the peculiar possibilities. The danger, the thrill of stepping foot on another planet. The dream of so many! And she had been able to take those steps. She would be instrumental in helping Mars become green... But the answer to his question was a likewise admission of not knowing. "I dunno," she said honestly. "It's always been about the challenge, you know? Being among the first colonists, helping making Mars livable for the future..."

**pinkgothic**:

He nodded slowly, in a way that denoted resonance, not politeness, but did not say anything more in response. Instead, he finished his glass of water and ran a fingertip along the rim, idly glancing down at it, but without any real interest.

**Nymphetamine**:

She felt as though she had talked his ear off without ever rejoining the subject about the possibility of teaching her. Leila just did not have the bravery to bring it up a second time. Instead, she too allowed their conversation to lapse into silence. Eyes occasionally looked at him in what was a somewhat awkward ish quiet for her, but she didn't know what else to say to him.

**pinkgothic**:

After running the flow of conversation through his head another five times, he tapped a finger against the glass, so lightly that it wasn't audible even in this spartan room, where most small sounds amplified themselves through echoes. "I don't mind teaching you," he finally volunteered. "We're all up here to make Mars a better place, knowledge sharing improves everyone's odds." There was no added tension in his voice - it was said quite mundanely, as though he weren't suggesting to break the law, but simply making an observation.

**Nymphetamine**:

Their weird silence continued until he broke it with the words that she hoped to hear. Perking up a little, she looked at him with quiet interest, listening to how he phrased everything. "We are," she said in agreement, a surety in her voice. "A better Mars for everyone... I... Well, thanks, Mateo. I'd hug you if I thought it wouldn't be so awkward." A little joke about her own weird lack of social skills. Brightening at this confirmed prospect that she could learn sorcery, she smileed at him. "Thank you... That's what I should've said. Thank you."