When Dirk sidesteps Rose's artfully-uncharitable presentation of his priorities, the quirk of an eyebrow betrays her surprise. Dirk looks the same as he ever was... but as he explains it becomes clear that Rose is going to have to update her assessment of the situation. She knew he'd been here for a while, but not that he'd been shunted from reality to reality. And back to theirs, on at least one occasion? That's interesting, implying an atemporal relationship between realities. Which means...
"You're not convinced that we failed, yet." Rose had seen the writing on the wall, of course. Even as she occupied herself with Dirk's games of divinity and distracted herself with a caliginous liaison, she could feel their relevance and essentiality slipping away. It's a terrible thing, to see the dissolution of everything one has worked to achieve, to say nothing of loved ones left behind. It's doubly terrible when one's still under the impression that the situation is salvageable.
That hope--or, perhaps, burden--is also the only reason she can imagine Dirk still being alive. If it's true that he's been shunted from reality to reality, denied access to his wider experiences whenever he returns to his rightful place, then by his own philosophy the Dirk who's pushing the story along is a less-complete version. The Dirk here in Amani has, it seems, gone through several rounds of his own personal hell, repeatedly faced with the decisions he could have made with greater context that by rights he should have been able to access. What could be motivating him now, except the chance to make things right by his own unique measure?
There's a subtle shift in Rose's demeanor, a softening. She knows it'll gall him, but she might be the only person he'd accept even a little sympathy from. He's avoided her for months at a time before, so his immediate attention raises one key question:
no subject
"You're not convinced that we failed, yet." Rose had seen the writing on the wall, of course. Even as she occupied herself with Dirk's games of divinity and distracted herself with a caliginous liaison, she could feel their relevance and essentiality slipping away. It's a terrible thing, to see the dissolution of everything one has worked to achieve, to say nothing of loved ones left behind. It's doubly terrible when one's still under the impression that the situation is salvageable.
That hope--or, perhaps, burden--is also the only reason she can imagine Dirk still being alive. If it's true that he's been shunted from reality to reality, denied access to his wider experiences whenever he returns to his rightful place, then by his own philosophy the Dirk who's pushing the story along is a less-complete version. The Dirk here in Amani has, it seems, gone through several rounds of his own personal hell, repeatedly faced with the decisions he could have made with greater context that by rights he should have been able to access. What could be motivating him now, except the chance to make things right by his own unique measure?
There's a subtle shift in Rose's demeanor, a softening. She knows it'll gall him, but she might be the only person he'd accept even a little sympathy from. He's avoided her for months at a time before, so his immediate attention raises one key question:
"Dirk, what do you need?"