[How to put this in a way that won't be insulting?]
Like, I totally understand wanting to drink to forget that we're all in this shithole of a cave, especially if it's only occasionally or whatever. But it seems like it should be kind of... Low priority?
[And being drunk makes you totally useless in an emergency, but he doesn't say that. Instead he frowns a little at her other comments, understanding but not agreeing.]
So you think that when it comes down to it people'll just be looking out for themselves?
[Maketh shrugs. She agrees, of course. Productivity must come first, always. But people need to unwind as well. Anything coiled too tight for too long eventually breaks.] Of course. Still. It helps, in its own way.
[There's a pause. Maketh just watches him, a little sadly. He's a civilian and she shouldn't be telling him these things. The situation remains what it is, however, and they must survive. They will survive.]
If it comes to that, yes.
[She hopes it won't. Sometimes she has nightmares about the aftermath of the Clone Wars, how her parents had tried so hard to make that damn farm work. She knows what Lothal looks like when it's on fire, what riots sound like, the sorts of things people do when they're starving. And how easy, how very easy it was for the Empire to come in through the chaos and establish a stranglehold.]
Without a strong infrastructure, people turn on each other in desperation. And if we fight each other, we cannot mount a coordinated resistance. Anything less than that will fail.
[Maketh takes a slow drink, trying to see if Chris understands.] Once the gods realize this, they will implement it. It's in their best interest to have us turn on each other.
[He's quiet, gazing off to the side towards the floor, going over her words and, more, his memory of the night on the mountain. There had been a few instances of what Maketh describes--or more specifically, one instance--but the rest of the time they'd been surprisingly united, even in the most dire circumstances. They'd worked together, protected each other, risked their lives to give all of them the best chance to get out alive.
But they'd also known each other for years, and despite fights and clashes of opinion there's a level of loyalty--especially now, among the survivors--that definitely can't be expected from a bunch of people who barely know each other. So while he doesn't believe that everyone would turn on each other, the idea of weaker bonds breaking down in the face of a threat is unfortunately likely.
Chris blinks a few times, pulling himself from his thoughts, and then looks back at Maketh again.]
Implement it how? Do something specifically to make fighting each other have to happen?
[They basically already did that with the wendigos, but it's a more subtle case.]
[The Empire does it all the time. Maketh downs her shot wordlessly. It's not kicking in as fast as she'd like, the blurry softness only just starting to creep up on her.] Favor one group over another, for instance. Only give fresh supplies to some, let the others fend for themselves. Poison the water, make us work for the antidote. Things like that.
I think they'd have to work harder than that though. I mean, a month before the whole wendigo thing started they like... Buried half the people here alive.
[His voice is a little quieter as he says it, the memory not a good one, but he continues anyway.]
Pretty much everyone worked to try to find the people who were buried, even though they didn't have to. Some of them didn't even know anyone who was, they just wanted to help.
[And half the people in the city being trapped underground would've been perfect opportunity for hoarding--or stealing--supplies, or something like that, but as far as he knows no one took advantage of that at all.]
Long term desperation is different. [Maketh sets her glass down, a little ashamed that she knows this.] So far the threats have been singular. Isolated. The wendigo incident was--traumatic.
[Maketh leans back in her chair.]
It would have been different if everyone was starving.
[He wishes he could argue, but he can't; the wendigo event was definitely the longest of the sustained threats here, with the burial event only--although 'only' is somewhat relative here--lasting three days. Back home, their first encounter with the wendigos had actually only been a few hours for him, as he and some of the others had been facing a completely different threat for the first portion of the night.
So he can't argue from experience, though he still isn't sure he agrees. Yes, something like starvation would be enormously stressful, but exhaustion and injuries and the terror of hours or nonstop fighting to survive are as well and he's not sure if there would be a lot of difference. Hopefully he won't have to find out.
The mention of the trauma of the wendigo event catches his attention though, and that he definitely agrees with it. It had been horrific, for many reasons, and it being the second go around for him hadn't made it any less so. Just different.
But her mentioning it is an opening, although he's not entirely sure how much of one.]
Yeah, maybe.
[He pauses a few more seconds, suddenly tempted for another drink, but shifts his gaze from the glass back to Maketh again.]
But um... About the wendigo thing...
[He trails off, not intentionally but because he's trying to decide how much to say.]
I'm gonna guess talking isn't like, your thing, but if you ever want to... I mean, I know how hard it is to...
[It's hard to even say it, and his gaze keeps flickering back to the table as he struggles to keep his voice steady.]
How hard it is to make the choice that you did. So like... No judgement, or whatever.
[He hasn't talked at all about the similar circumstance he'd gone through--hasn't even told anyone other than the people that were there for it--but it's more important that she knows there's someone she can talk to that truly understands, than for him to keep quiet just because it's difficult to think about.]
[Maketh freezes. In another situation, it might have been comical - here she is, surrounded by shot glasses and halfway to drunk with a civilian she barely knows, holding herself completely still. As if she's been struck. As if any of this is important enough to really hurt her.
This is--irrelevant. Meaningless.
Maketh lifts her chin and makes herself sit up straight. Proper posture. Professional.]
It was...logical. That's all.
[She hasn't missed the last part, where he said--
Well. Maketh can guess. She pours herself another drink before the impulse to ask can take hold.]
[He isn't watching her reaction as much as he would normally, since he's still struggling to make sure to keep his composure; he's trying to help, not accidentally worry her or upset her any further. But he does notice how she freezes, and her shift in posture.
He's quiet a few more seconds after her words, then gives a small shrug.]
The part that sucks about being logical is that you can know it's the best choice you had, but it's still... It doesn't make it better.
[Just because it was the smart choice--both in her case and in his--doesn't somehow make it less traumatizing. He really wishes it did.]
[Maketh wavers, trying to hold herself perfectly still, eyes focused on the wall behind Chris. Hands trembling under the table. No eye contact, no, keep your back straight and hold still. She's better than this, she does not want to cry.
It was the best choice. She's very sure of that. She won't be the thing that hurts these people, no, she has a duty to them. Her failures at Lothal will not be repeated.
The people on Lothal, her allies, would shoot her dead if they saw her now.
And yet here is this man - child, really - sitting across from her and attempting to...what?
Be kind, Maketh supposes. He's trying to be kind to her. Even though she damaged him. Has continued to damage him with her talk of tactics and war. And yet here he sits, trying to speak with her. To share an experience that most wouldn't dare consider, let alone speak of. As if she's done something to earn this when Makeh knows she hasn't. She's tried to protect this community in the ways she knows how, but it hasn't worked, hasn't worked at all, people have died.
She ordered Henry to set her on fire. How does someone get over that? How does someone forgive the person who gave the order in the first place?
This sort of thing isn't supposed to be complicated. It's tactics. Psychology. Maketh is supposed to be good at that. The Empire gave her the best education in the galaxy, she should know better. She never has, though, not with people - the details always slip, she never understands when it matters. She doesn't understand Chris right now, wants suddenly - desperately - to ask him about whatever sharp choice he made that's bouncing around his skull right now. Surely he's thinking about it right now - Maketh thinks about the fire a lot, even when she doesn't want to. The look on Henry's face when he...
It's not supposed to matter. She's dead on Lothal, a traitor in all ways, so why does it matter if she dies here too?
Maketh tightens her jaw]
I'm not crying.
[She's not. Officers don't do that. She's just drunk, which is fine - expected, even - and in a few hours she'll be sick and then she'll pass out into a dead sleep. Then she'll wake up, put on her uniform, and dismiss the lingering thoughts with the remnants of her hangover. So it goes. Drink, get lost, wake up sick and then just let it out. Let it go. Pull yourself together and do your job. It's supposed to be easy.]
[If there's one good thing that came out of any of this--any of what happened on the mountain, any of what's happened here--it's that he can understand more. He's always been good with people, genuinely empathetic and good with reading or guessing how someone else might feel. Good at gauging their reactions in a conversation, at figuring out what to say and when in order to make someone feel better. But he'd had a generally sheltered, gentle upbringing as an only child with kind, loving parents; there was a limit on what he could truly empathize with. Many hardships that people he met had gone through he could never imagine dealing with.
And then the night on the mountain had happened and that alone was enough to change everything, but it hadn't stopped there; he'd found himself here, barely a few hours after surviving that awful nightmare. And now he understands more than he ever wants to.
But the same experiences that haunt him now give him the chance to help others, even if it's just the tiniest amount, and might possibly make everything worth it.
He averts his gaze so as not to watch her while she tries to keep her composure, remembering how Emily had done exactly the same thing for him just a few hours earlier, and Maketh's comment earns a quiet response.]
I don't see anything.
[Not just because he's staring at a wall just like she is, but as a small, humorous promise. He 'won't see' as much as necessary, if it turns out she can't hold herself together after all.]
[For a moment, Maketh almost laughs. He doesn't see. No, of course not. She tips her head back, making herself smile, until she's sure - very sure - that her face could pass for normal.]
You are...a strange person, Chris.
[She says it fondly, though. She hasn't met many people like him.]
Tell me about your studies. Computer science, you said?
[It's a distraction, a less dire conversation. Maketh runs a hand through her hair, trying to smile. This could be all right. She's stating to get drunk, but she hasn't scared Chris off yet or - hopefully - said anything to ruin her credibility. There's hope. And she is curious about his world, the things that a student would explore. Computers were never her specialty, but she probably knows enough to follow along.]
[The distraction is fine with him, though he isn't sure how much he can tell her that'll actually be interesting.]
Yeah. I'd just started my fourth semester so I wasn't really far into my major's classes, but I've done a few of them. It was mostly computer programming and a lot of math; I wanted to make apps for phones, a lot like these ones.
[He waves one of the phones Hope gave them all to punctuate his statement, realizing only after he says it all that he's using past tense. He still wants to make apps--it'd be fun--but he's not sure that even if he doesn't somehow get home that he'll end up pursuing the same career.
But that's not exactly useful to ponder right now, so he shoves the thoughts aside.]
In college a major is like... A focus of study. It's the main thing you're learning to do. There's also a minor, which is like a sub-specialty; mine's math since I'm already taking a ton of it for the major. There's a whole bunch of other special degree names but I'm not doing any of them.
[Hopefully that makes sense at all. He nods at her last comment.]
Yeah, it's really fun.
[For exactly the reasons she's thinking; he really likes planning and then creating something that can then be used for a purpose. Also there's that fact that if something goes wrong, it's just a matter of logic to figure out what it is and how to fix it.]
[It makes sense, coupling programming with math - the two fit together quite neatly. Complementary, that's the term. Maketh hesitates, wondering.] Did you chose your...major? I heard civilians do that, sometimes.
Yeah, I chose it. Most people do, though sometimes parents pressure their kids into something specific.
[But his parents told him to pick whatever he wanted, so he did.]
I thought about doing engineering and that probably would've been more useful here, but I dunno. Computers seemed like more fun than designing machines or electrical systems or whatever.
Our instructors chose our tracts for us, according to our aptitude.
[Maketh wanted to be an archivist when she was younger, but a different path had been chosen. Back then she trusted in the wisdom of the Emperor. She watches Chris, curious again about his world. It seems very strange to her. Very different from the Empire.]
Perhaps. Though you'll find that mastery in one field tends to shift better than you might imagine into another.
[She leans back.] You could make programs here, couldn't you?
[Oh, that sucks. And is kind of all dystopian future-ish.]
If you could've picked, what would you've done?
[He considers here next comment a moment.]
Yeah, maybe. That'd be a nice surprise, anyway.
[Since right now the only talents he has that have been much use here have been related to dealing with people.]
I could if I knew like... The basic structure of how the phone work, which I don't, since it's god technology or whatever. But Rhys figured it out and I think he's willing to show me, so yeah, maybe.
[Maketh smiles a little, remembering. Despite - well, everything - her experiences at the Academy were largely positive. Possibly the happiest time of her life.] I wanted to be a pilot when I first started, but everyone did. It was very glamorous.
[Even more so to her, the farm girl who'd never flown before. But it had been decided that her talents were better suited to other, less military things. She lacked the fortitude to fly in combat, which all Imperial pilots did. Maketh had accepted that, because it had been told to her and was therefore true.]
I think, if it had been my choice, I would have studied history.
[She still does, sometimes, when she has time to spare. She frowns at the shot glasses, and prods them back into a straight line.] There you go. It would be very useful if you could make these...apps? Especially a more accurate mapping system, or a means to plot sightings of the--animals, on a grid.
[She refrains from saying monsters. That might bring up the wendigos again.]
[He smiles a little too, glad to see her looking a little less somber.]
Being a pilot does sound really cool.
[But also kind of terrifying, in his opinion, especially if it's military-related piloting. He's a little surprised by her next answer though, because he wouldn't have guessed it.]
Yeah? I was terrible at history in high school, but maybe history in your world is more interesting than mine.
[He couldn't memorize names and dates to save his life, mostly because he didn't care. And wasn't paying much attention, honestly.]
Yeah. Definitely; I think making a map program would be kind of hard, but a way to track monster sightings based on like, the names of locations would probably be pretty simple.
[He, on the other hand, says monsters without even thinking about it. It'd probably be worrying if he considered the fact that he's so used to the idea, but he doesn't and is already moving on to more talk of apps, tone a little more enthusiastic.]
I was thinking like... Maybe some sort of emergency alert system might be doable, too. Where if someone needs help or something they can just press a button and alert people, whether it's like their friends or just people in general who are willing to help out.
Indeed. [The TIE pilots had looked very smart in their uniforms to a much younger Maketh, their boots shiny black and their flight suits like nothing she'd ever seen before. She'd had a crush on one of them, a girl two years ahead of her. Sekhmet, wasn't it? Maketh doesn't know what happened to her. Probably stationed on one of the star destroyers or left in an early grave. TIE pilots rarely lived very long. Either way, very far from where Maketh ended up.] I don't know if it would be more interesting, exactly...not a lot of people care for it in the Empire. A lot of things have been lost.
[Or censored. Maketh brushes that aside, and prods the shot glasses again. She's feeling antsy all of a sudden, barely contained by her skin. She pushes a hand through her hair just for something to do. The alcohol is starting to numb things around the edges, but not quite enough.] That would be extremely helpful. And would likely save lives.
[That, on the other hand, does sound interesting. He'd gone through a phase of reading about conspiracy theories and aliens and lost civilizations like Atlantis, and while he has little opinion on whether any of it's true or not it had been fascinating and missing knowledge had been a major part of them.
He notices the agitated motion, but isn't sure what exactly is prompting it.]
Yeah, hopefully. We'd need to figure out a way to track locations or something though to make it really useful.
[As just an alert system it could at least notify people to go looking for someone in need of help, but knowing exactly where to go would be a lot more useful. Still, something is better than nothing.
He's quiet briefly, trying to decide whether to ask if she's okay or not, but decides to wait for the moment; he doesn't want to push too much.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mismanagement) wrote2016-01-25 02:02 pm
[Action]
[How to put this in a way that won't be insulting?]
Like, I totally understand wanting to drink to forget that we're all in this shithole of a cave, especially if it's only occasionally or whatever. But it seems like it should be kind of... Low priority?
[And being drunk makes you totally useless in an emergency, but he doesn't say that. Instead he frowns a little at her other comments, understanding but not agreeing.]
So you think that when it comes down to it people'll just be looking out for themselves?
[Action]
[There's a pause. Maketh just watches him, a little sadly. He's a civilian and she shouldn't be telling him these things. The situation remains what it is, however, and they must survive. They will survive.]
If it comes to that, yes.
[She hopes it won't. Sometimes she has nightmares about the aftermath of the Clone Wars, how her parents had tried so hard to make that damn farm work. She knows what Lothal looks like when it's on fire, what riots sound like, the sorts of things people do when they're starving. And how easy, how very easy it was for the Empire to come in through the chaos and establish a stranglehold.]
Without a strong infrastructure, people turn on each other in desperation. And if we fight each other, we cannot mount a coordinated resistance. Anything less than that will fail.
[Maketh takes a slow drink, trying to see if Chris understands.] Once the gods realize this, they will implement it. It's in their best interest to have us turn on each other.
[Action]
But they'd also known each other for years, and despite fights and clashes of opinion there's a level of loyalty--especially now, among the survivors--that definitely can't be expected from a bunch of people who barely know each other. So while he doesn't believe that everyone would turn on each other, the idea of weaker bonds breaking down in the face of a threat is unfortunately likely.
Chris blinks a few times, pulling himself from his thoughts, and then looks back at Maketh again.]
Implement it how? Do something specifically to make fighting each other have to happen?
[They basically already did that with the wendigos, but it's a more subtle case.]
[Action]
[The Empire does it all the time. Maketh downs her shot wordlessly. It's not kicking in as fast as she'd like, the blurry softness only just starting to creep up on her.] Favor one group over another, for instance. Only give fresh supplies to some, let the others fend for themselves. Poison the water, make us work for the antidote. Things like that.
[Action]
[Though that said--]
I think they'd have to work harder than that though. I mean, a month before the whole wendigo thing started they like... Buried half the people here alive.
[His voice is a little quieter as he says it, the memory not a good one, but he continues anyway.]
Pretty much everyone worked to try to find the people who were buried, even though they didn't have to. Some of them didn't even know anyone who was, they just wanted to help.
[And half the people in the city being trapped underground would've been perfect opportunity for hoarding--or stealing--supplies, or something like that, but as far as he knows no one took advantage of that at all.]
[Action]
[Maketh leans back in her chair.]
It would have been different if everyone was starving.
[Action]
So he can't argue from experience, though he still isn't sure he agrees. Yes, something like starvation would be enormously stressful, but exhaustion and injuries and the terror of hours or nonstop fighting to survive are as well and he's not sure if there would be a lot of difference. Hopefully he won't have to find out.
The mention of the trauma of the wendigo event catches his attention though, and that he definitely agrees with it. It had been horrific, for many reasons, and it being the second go around for him hadn't made it any less so. Just different.
But her mentioning it is an opening, although he's not entirely sure how much of one.]
Yeah, maybe.
[He pauses a few more seconds, suddenly tempted for another drink, but shifts his gaze from the glass back to Maketh again.]
But um... About the wendigo thing...
[He trails off, not intentionally but because he's trying to decide how much to say.]
I'm gonna guess talking isn't like, your thing, but if you ever want to... I mean, I know how hard it is to...
[It's hard to even say it, and his gaze keeps flickering back to the table as he struggles to keep his voice steady.]
How hard it is to make the choice that you did. So like... No judgement, or whatever.
[He hasn't talked at all about the similar circumstance he'd gone through--hasn't even told anyone other than the people that were there for it--but it's more important that she knows there's someone she can talk to that truly understands, than for him to keep quiet just because it's difficult to think about.]
[Action]
This is--irrelevant. Meaningless.
Maketh lifts her chin and makes herself sit up straight. Proper posture. Professional.]
It was...logical. That's all.
[She hasn't missed the last part, where he said--
Well. Maketh can guess. She pours herself another drink before the impulse to ask can take hold.]
[Action]
He's quiet a few more seconds after her words, then gives a small shrug.]
The part that sucks about being logical is that you can know it's the best choice you had, but it's still... It doesn't make it better.
[Just because it was the smart choice--both in her case and in his--doesn't somehow make it less traumatizing. He really wishes it did.]
[Action]
It was the best choice. She's very sure of that. She won't be the thing that hurts these people, no, she has a duty to them. Her failures at Lothal will not be repeated.
The people on Lothal, her allies, would shoot her dead if they saw her now.
And yet here is this man - child, really - sitting across from her and attempting to...what?
Be kind, Maketh supposes. He's trying to be kind to her. Even though she damaged him. Has continued to damage him with her talk of tactics and war. And yet here he sits, trying to speak with her. To share an experience that most wouldn't dare consider, let alone speak of. As if she's done something to earn this when Makeh knows she hasn't. She's tried to protect this community in the ways she knows how, but it hasn't worked, hasn't worked at all, people have died.
She ordered Henry to set her on fire. How does someone get over that? How does someone forgive the person who gave the order in the first place?
This sort of thing isn't supposed to be complicated. It's tactics. Psychology. Maketh is supposed to be good at that. The Empire gave her the best education in the galaxy, she should know better. She never has, though, not with people - the details always slip, she never understands when it matters. She doesn't understand Chris right now, wants suddenly - desperately - to ask him about whatever sharp choice he made that's bouncing around his skull right now. Surely he's thinking about it right now - Maketh thinks about the fire a lot, even when she doesn't want to. The look on Henry's face when he...
It's not supposed to matter. She's dead on Lothal, a traitor in all ways, so why does it matter if she dies here too?
Maketh tightens her jaw]
I'm not crying.
[She's not. Officers don't do that. She's just drunk, which is fine - expected, even - and in a few hours she'll be sick and then she'll pass out into a dead sleep. Then she'll wake up, put on her uniform, and dismiss the lingering thoughts with the remnants of her hangover. So it goes. Drink, get lost, wake up sick and then just let it out. Let it go. Pull yourself together and do your job. It's supposed to be easy.]
[Action]
And then the night on the mountain had happened and that alone was enough to change everything, but it hadn't stopped there; he'd found himself here, barely a few hours after surviving that awful nightmare. And now he understands more than he ever wants to.
But the same experiences that haunt him now give him the chance to help others, even if it's just the tiniest amount, and might possibly make everything worth it.
He averts his gaze so as not to watch her while she tries to keep her composure, remembering how Emily had done exactly the same thing for him just a few hours earlier, and Maketh's comment earns a quiet response.]
I don't see anything.
[Not just because he's staring at a wall just like she is, but as a small, humorous promise. He 'won't see' as much as necessary, if it turns out she can't hold herself together after all.]
[Action]
You are...a strange person, Chris.
[She says it fondly, though. She hasn't met many people like him.]
[Action]
[He offers a small grin with the comment though; it's pretty obvious by her tone that she means it in a good way.]
[Action]
[It's a distraction, a less dire conversation. Maketh runs a hand through her hair, trying to smile. This could be all right. She's stating to get drunk, but she hasn't scared Chris off yet or - hopefully - said anything to ruin her credibility. There's hope. And she is curious about his world, the things that a student would explore. Computers were never her specialty, but she probably knows enough to follow along.]
[Action]
Yeah. I'd just started my fourth semester so I wasn't really far into my major's classes, but I've done a few of them. It was mostly computer programming and a lot of math; I wanted to make apps for phones, a lot like these ones.
[He waves one of the phones Hope gave them all to punctuate his statement, realizing only after he says it all that he's using past tense. He still wants to make apps--it'd be fun--but he's not sure that even if he doesn't somehow get home that he'll end up pursuing the same career.
But that's not exactly useful to ponder right now, so he shoves the thoughts aside.]
[Action]
[It doesn't sound like a rank. And for all her studies, Maketh doesn't know very much about how civilians go about getting their education.
She would have liked to study history, if she had the chance.]
Oh, you write programs. I imagine that's rewarding.
[A process with a clear end and beginning, almost tangible results. Yes, she can see why Chris would like that.]
[Action]
[Hopefully that makes sense at all. He nods at her last comment.]
Yeah, it's really fun.
[For exactly the reasons she's thinking; he really likes planning and then creating something that can then be used for a purpose. Also there's that fact that if something goes wrong, it's just a matter of logic to figure out what it is and how to fix it.]
[Action]
[It makes sense, coupling programming with math - the two fit together quite neatly. Complementary, that's the term. Maketh hesitates, wondering.] Did you chose your...major? I heard civilians do that, sometimes.
[Action]
[But his parents told him to pick whatever he wanted, so he did.]
I thought about doing engineering and that probably would've been more useful here, but I dunno. Computers seemed like more fun than designing machines or electrical systems or whatever.
[Action]
[Maketh wanted to be an archivist when she was younger, but a different path had been chosen. Back then she trusted in the wisdom of the Emperor. She watches Chris, curious again about his world. It seems very strange to her. Very different from the Empire.]
Perhaps. Though you'll find that mastery in one field tends to shift better than you might imagine into another.
[She leans back.] You could make programs here, couldn't you?
[Action]
If you could've picked, what would you've done?
[He considers here next comment a moment.]
Yeah, maybe. That'd be a nice surprise, anyway.
[Since right now the only talents he has that have been much use here have been related to dealing with people.]
I could if I knew like... The basic structure of how the phone work, which I don't, since it's god technology or whatever. But Rhys figured it out and I think he's willing to show me, so yeah, maybe.
[Action]
[Even more so to her, the farm girl who'd never flown before. But it had been decided that her talents were better suited to other, less military things. She lacked the fortitude to fly in combat, which all Imperial pilots did. Maketh had accepted that, because it had been told to her and was therefore true.]
I think, if it had been my choice, I would have studied history.
[She still does, sometimes, when she has time to spare. She frowns at the shot glasses, and prods them back into a straight line.] There you go. It would be very useful if you could make these...apps? Especially a more accurate mapping system, or a means to plot sightings of the--animals, on a grid.
[She refrains from saying monsters. That might bring up the wendigos again.]
[Action]
Being a pilot does sound really cool.
[But also kind of terrifying, in his opinion, especially if it's military-related piloting. He's a little surprised by her next answer though, because he wouldn't have guessed it.]
Yeah? I was terrible at history in high school, but maybe history in your world is more interesting than mine.
[He couldn't memorize names and dates to save his life, mostly because he didn't care. And wasn't paying much attention, honestly.]
Yeah. Definitely; I think making a map program would be kind of hard, but a way to track monster sightings based on like, the names of locations would probably be pretty simple.
[He, on the other hand, says monsters without even thinking about it. It'd probably be worrying if he considered the fact that he's so used to the idea, but he doesn't and is already moving on to more talk of apps, tone a little more enthusiastic.]
I was thinking like... Maybe some sort of emergency alert system might be doable, too. Where if someone needs help or something they can just press a button and alert people, whether it's like their friends or just people in general who are willing to help out.
[Action]
[Or censored. Maketh brushes that aside, and prods the shot glasses again. She's feeling antsy all of a sudden, barely contained by her skin. She pushes a hand through her hair just for something to do. The alcohol is starting to numb things around the edges, but not quite enough.] That would be extremely helpful. And would likely save lives.
[Action]
[That, on the other hand, does sound interesting. He'd gone through a phase of reading about conspiracy theories and aliens and lost civilizations like Atlantis, and while he has little opinion on whether any of it's true or not it had been fascinating and missing knowledge had been a major part of them.
He notices the agitated motion, but isn't sure what exactly is prompting it.]
Yeah, hopefully. We'd need to figure out a way to track locations or something though to make it really useful.
[As just an alert system it could at least notify people to go looking for someone in need of help, but knowing exactly where to go would be a lot more useful. Still, something is better than nothing.
He's quiet briefly, trying to decide whether to ask if she's okay or not, but decides to wait for the moment; he doesn't want to push too much.]
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