And to be very honest, Charles still does not particularly want to drink, but what he does want to do is keep this sense of continuity, like perhaps he can be a functional human being and keep promises and find people for purposes beyond what he needs from them in that moment. So he returns to his room on level fourteen, and he digs up the bottle of as yet unopened Dewar's he'd been bestowed by powers that be when he had first returned from his ten year non-absence, and he goes to find Cassandra Anderson.
The holodeck on level five is unoccupied, and Charles has picked the setting. It is a favoured one, of the short list of favourites that he has -- they are in the middle of a lake that is frozen white, spanning beyond the dimensions of the holodeck itself, circled in black and white forest, with a sky that is marbled grey, on the cusp of snowing. It would be possible to set the temperature to a brisk wintry level, but it is instead kept comfortable.
Seated on the ground which only upon touch reveals itself not to be solid ice, Charles sets about pouring a generous helping of scotch into glasses, one for him, one for her. His skin still shows up anatomy it is meant to hide, having transformed all the way translucent since the first time they spoke during the sickness, but they are, at least, healthy, with changes slow to revert back to normal.
level 5, holodeck. cassandra anderson.
And to be very honest, Charles still does not particularly want to drink, but what he does want to do is keep this sense of continuity, like perhaps he can be a functional human being and keep promises and find people for purposes beyond what he needs from them in that moment. So he returns to his room on level fourteen, and he digs up the bottle of as yet unopened Dewar's he'd been bestowed by powers that be when he had first returned from his ten year non-absence, and he goes to find Cassandra Anderson.
The holodeck on level five is unoccupied, and Charles has picked the setting. It is a favoured one, of the short list of favourites that he has -- they are in the middle of a lake that is frozen white, spanning beyond the dimensions of the holodeck itself, circled in black and white forest, with a sky that is marbled grey, on the cusp of snowing. It would be possible to set the temperature to a brisk wintry level, but it is instead kept comfortable.
Seated on the ground which only upon touch reveals itself not to be solid ice, Charles sets about pouring a generous helping of scotch into glasses, one for him, one for her. His skin still shows up anatomy it is meant to hide, having transformed all the way translucent since the first time they spoke during the sickness, but they are, at least, healthy, with changes slow to revert back to normal.
"What should we toast to?"