Kristin doesn't answer that, just lets her fingertips drift back over his scalp. Anything else would embarrass them both.
"Yeah. I do." They were both at Bancroft's little soiree, listening to a woman talk about cramming a man's consciousness into a snake. It's hard for her to imagine anyone looking at that kind of sociopathy and thinking yeah, that's redeemable. "Anything else I should know?"
She'll learn the depths of these fuckers' maladjusted bullshit later.
"They always are." They aren't. But confronting this place as a nest of Dimi the Twins (Dimis the Twin?) is going to be more straightforward than if it's all meths.
Kristin falls quiet for a few moments, stroking his hair and pretending she hasn't noticed how much he likes it. (He'd like to be subtle - she knows that - even if he isn't.) Her thoughts are still pacing over and over the conversations she's had, the things she's learned. Everything Kovacs has told her, and all the places she can see he's kept something to himself.
For once, she's not in a mood to needle him overly. Probably because he just got her off, and there's nothing to interrupt them - her ONI's close to useless here. (Whatever idiotic messages are piling up in the device she was given, they're out of both sight and mind.) Instead, idly, she tells him, "If I get some asshole through this, we solve the cases. All of them. And we nail everyone to the wall."
He lets himself melt into the shape of her, eyes closing. He's awake, alert, but he doesn't bother showing it. He wants something of this moment, something close to comfort.
"All the opened cases on your desk?" He knows that's not what she means, but he wants to hear her say it. "That'll be a lot."
"You think he'd do that for me?" It's not a small pile, however quickly she bulldozes through some of them. But - lazily told jokes aside - they both know that's not what she means. So she says it for him, a litany of loss breathed into a quiet room. "Bancroft. Mary Lou Henchy. My arm. And - Elias."
The last one comes after a silent hitch, only long enough to be noticeable.
"If they're connected, there has to be a meth involved." It's too widespread. No one else could do it. "We could get to the bottom of it, but that doesn't mean we'll get justice. That's what the admiral's giving me: a meth's head on a plate."
He doesn't like talking about Elias, especially now. He doesn't like talking about meths when he's safe and warm besides her. He barely tolerates talking.
He doesn't like the idea that getting this deal will be the end of him.
"Fuck no." It's an answer that comes swiftly and decisively. If it weren't a stupid, absurdly expensive idea, she'd consider lopping off the other one, too. "But I wouldn't mind beating the Ghostwalker with my old one."
Maybe to death. That fucker killed Samir, and no one will do anything to avenge him if Kristin doesn't.
Edited (changed my mind, sorry) 2021-10-06 03:15 (UTC)
"You think so?" She's been trying not to think about that, but it's hard not to when he brings it up, her fingers tracing over the curve of his ear. "Ten years in Purgatory."
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"Yeah. I do." They were both at Bancroft's little soiree, listening to a woman talk about cramming a man's consciousness into a snake. It's hard for her to imagine anyone looking at that kind of sociopathy and thinking yeah, that's redeemable. "Anything else I should know?"
She'll learn the depths of these fuckers' maladjusted bullshit later.
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"You can handle the rest of it," he says. "These assholes talk big, but they're all goons."
He doesn't mention Carol. She deserves that much.
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Kristin falls quiet for a few moments, stroking his hair and pretending she hasn't noticed how much he likes it. (He'd like to be subtle - she knows that - even if he isn't.) Her thoughts are still pacing over and over the conversations she's had, the things she's learned. Everything Kovacs has told her, and all the places she can see he's kept something to himself.
For once, she's not in a mood to needle him overly. Probably because he just got her off, and there's nothing to interrupt them - her ONI's close to useless here. (Whatever idiotic messages are piling up in the device she was given, they're out of both sight and mind.) Instead, idly, she tells him, "If I get some asshole through this, we solve the cases. All of them. And we nail everyone to the wall."
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"All the opened cases on your desk?" He knows that's not what she means, but he wants to hear her say it. "That'll be a lot."
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The last one comes after a silent hitch, only long enough to be noticeable.
"If they're connected, there has to be a meth involved." It's too widespread. No one else could do it. "We could get to the bottom of it, but that doesn't mean we'll get justice. That's what the admiral's giving me: a meth's head on a plate."
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He doesn't like the idea that getting this deal will be the end of him.
"You want your old arm back?"
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Maybe to death. That fucker killed Samir, and no one will do anything to avenge him if Kristin doesn't.
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