[He just manages to keep the-- something deep and dark, like shock or confusion but more-- from his voice. As a consequence, his words come across blandly, devoid of all emotion, including interest.]
[ The question piques some kind of defensiveness in her. Or maybe the way it's asked. Something does, anyway, and it bleeds into the edges of her voice. ]
[ It stings, and she can't quite put into words why. The sense of being dismissed is a lot of it. The sense of all her dead being dismissed, too - it's strangely lonely, and that sense of loneliness just serves to piss her off. ]
I'm not asking you to eat pan dulce and tell stories.
[ Not to be alone. Not to sit in her apartment by herself, with her empty ofrenda and whatever she feels like cooking, alone in the silence after the Barge finishes Halloween and forgets about any other holidays.
Not to have to explain herself. ]
Exactly what I said. [ She knows better than to want to end a conversation with Kovacs without wanting to throttle him a little. ] If you don't want to come over, don't.
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[ A pause. ]
It's not a holiday you spend alone.
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[He just manages to keep the-- something deep and dark, like shock or confusion but more-- from his voice. As a consequence, his words come across blandly, devoid of all emotion, including interest.]
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Unless you have something better to do.
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I don't know your dead. You don't know mine. Probably shouldn't meet.
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I'm not asking you to eat pan dulce and tell stories.
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What the fuck are you asking?
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Not to have to explain herself. ]
Exactly what I said. [ She knows better than to want to end a conversation with Kovacs without wanting to throttle him a little. ] If you don't want to come over, don't.
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See ya.
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