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There's a little pouch behind it, too, which comes along a little when she pulls out the next map. Arthur crouches next to her and nods at the crack.
"Who's 'they'? Get your treasure, Tess."
It's a bracelet and a necklace from very fine material - that will disintegrate when they leave the Enclosure, but still.
"Who's 'they'? Get your treasure, Tess."
It's a bracelet and a necklace from very fine material - that will disintegrate when they leave the Enclosure, but still.
"Well, it's likely even more impossible to me. I had to get used to the washing machines," he tells her, with a little smile at her. It's alright - he's weirded out too!
“Whoever left this behind,” she replies, sticking her hand back in to get it. She empties the pouch into her palm and chuckles. “This real precious metal? Must be real.”
"Real in the sense that none of this is real, but sure," he says, trying not to wrap his head around it.
"Think this is some gang's map, and they hid bits and pieces everywhere. Not sure what happened to 'em."
Hey, count yourself lucky he's not recreating the gruesome murders he stumbled upon!
"Think this is some gang's map, and they hid bits and pieces everywhere. Not sure what happened to 'em."
Hey, count yourself lucky he's not recreating the gruesome murders he stumbled upon!
The gruesome murders would be run of the mill, at least.
“I mean it’s not cheap metal plated with something else, or plastic pearls,” she replies. She tips them back into the bag. “They must have been wiped out if they left all this unclaimed.”
“I mean it’s not cheap metal plated with something else, or plastic pearls,” she replies. She tips them back into the bag. “They must have been wiped out if they left all this unclaimed.”
"You're likely right. You have to be strong to survive intact."
He straightens up, groaning when his back cracks. Getting old. "You did good."
He straightens up, groaning when his back cracks. Getting old. "You did good."
She pockets the bag and stands up straight again, dusting off her hands. Bizarre, touching earth.
“Wasn’t that hard,” she remarks, though she smiles. Compliments! “Smugglers use caches too. Our maps are just a bit more... legible, I guess.”
“Wasn’t that hard,” she remarks, though she smiles. Compliments! “Smugglers use caches too. Our maps are just a bit more... legible, I guess.”
"Most people in my time can't read or write," he explains. "They gotta rely on drawing things like that."
Colour her surprised.
“Really? Huh,” she replies. “I mean, even when drawn —— buildings look a whole lot more specific than a tree.”
“Really? Huh,” she replies. “I mean, even when drawn —— buildings look a whole lot more specific than a tree.”
"Well, can't hide all your treasure in towns. How 'bout you take a picture of that map, and we can do the next step next time?"
Can in her world!
“Sure.”
Tess fishes her communicator out of her pocket to do just that. And then she thinks of something, communicator still in hand.
“Hey. Take a picture with me.”
“Sure.”
Tess fishes her communicator out of her pocket to do just that. And then she thinks of something, communicator still in hand.
“Hey. Take a picture with me.”
He looks up from where he'd been putting his gloves into a pocket, now that he's no longer climbing, and looks pleasantly surprised.
"--sure. How d'you want to?"
"--sure. How d'you want to?"
She grins, reaching to link her free arm with his and step in close. She holds the communicator up with the other hand, selfie style.
“Say cheese.”
“Say cheese.”
"I-- sure? Cheese," he says, not understanding the prompt but gladly obliging. Cameras obviously can't do this in his day and age, and he wonders what this will even look like.
But he understands the gesture. Wanting to remember a moment.
But he understands the gesture. Wanting to remember a moment.
She laughs and takes the photo.
“It supposedly makes you look more natural.”
She turns the communicator so they can look at the resulting photo.
“It supposedly makes you look more natural.”
She turns the communicator so they can look at the resulting photo.
He's leaning up against her, one hand on her shoulder for balance, to look at the photo. He snorts a quick laugh when he sees it, huffing it out.
"Don't we make a fine pair?"
He still can't stop being amazed at the technology behind all of this.
"Don't we make a fine pair?"
He still can't stop being amazed at the technology behind all of this.
“We do,” she agrees, pocketing the communicator again. It’s nice to hear him laugh, too, and she has the fleeting thought that she lucked out here in a lot of ways. “A lifetime ago I used to take these all the time.”
He grins a little and pulls away with another little clap to her shoulder.
"I can actually see why. Kinda nice, a memory like that."
"I can actually see why. Kinda nice, a memory like that."
"Yeah," she replies, and she smiles at him sidelong. "Used to keep thousands of pictures that way, just scroll through whenever I wanted. Not quite as personal as a journal, but it does the trick."
She grins. "And how has that worked out for you? Convenient, aren't they?"
"I like that idea too. If I could do 'em both I'd be happy as a clam."
"Damn convenient. Hours I spent standing in some cold fucking river, trying to scrub dirt out of a once-white shirt - take some getting used to again, after bein' here."
"No reason you can't," she replies. An idea comes to mind, and she pockets it for another day –– she's gonna have to see what she can finagle. "You'd probably have to work on your angles, though. No more..."
She gestures like she's holding the camera way too low.
She gestures like she's holding the camera way too low.
"No more what?"
He genuinely doesn't sound like he's grasping her point.
He genuinely doesn't sound like he's grasping her point.
"Holding the camera at an angle that goes right up your nose."
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