He doesn't say anything. Not for a good few seconds.
The speed with which she shifted tracks, the instantaneous switch from from caustic to concerned, is like a slap in the face. His jaw works, silently, his expression as blank and ambiguous as it is damning in its flattened stoicism. What does he need? He needs her not to be here. He needs her physical form to signify nothing, unless it is a sign that the true Rose, secure in her robot shell, is equally secure in her Narrative position. He needs that not to reflect on him, and his existence. He doesn't say any of that, because none of that is what he really needs. And none of it will help him.
He needs her to not look too deeply into where he's been, or what he's done. Why he's done. Who. The convenience of total transparency he'd had in their postcanon-in-progress is suddenly a liability. He needs her unquestioning cooperation, and he needs her to do it without knowing why. A guaranteed impossibility when it comes to his daughter, his flawlessly imperfect mirror.
He settles for muttering,"I need a goddamn miracle."
Then, before Rose can pounce upon the appearance of lapsed confidence, he lifts a hand to stop her, using the universally understood physical gesture and equally universal meme sign. He also uses hiswords.
"I'm fully aware delivering that kind of thing is my job. The provenance of any Deus Ex not of my Machina would be immediately suspect, anyway. So in the absence of that. I need you to do what you do best. Tell me what you See."He knows, because he has looked, that she has received a vision.
"Don't just repeat it to me. I don't want your recitation. I know what it says, I read it."What was he going to do? Not do that?
"I want your interpretation. Because you're damn right I don't believe we've failed."
no subject
He doesn't say anything. Not for a good few seconds.
The speed with which she shifted tracks, the instantaneous switch from from caustic to concerned, is like a slap in the face. His jaw works, silently, his expression as blank and ambiguous as it is damning in its flattened stoicism. What does he need? He needs her not to be here. He needs her physical form to signify nothing, unless it is a sign that the true Rose, secure in her robot shell, is equally secure in her Narrative position. He needs that not to reflect on him, and his existence. He doesn't say any of that, because none of that is what he really needs. And none of it will help him.
He needs her to not look too deeply into where he's been, or what he's done. Why he's done. Who. The convenience of total transparency he'd had in their postcanon-in-progress is suddenly a liability. He needs her unquestioning cooperation, and he needs her to do it without knowing why. A guaranteed impossibility when it comes to his daughter, his flawlessly imperfect mirror.
He settles for muttering, "I need a goddamn miracle."
Then, before Rose can pounce upon the appearance of lapsed confidence, he lifts a hand to stop her, using the universally understood physical gesture and equally universal meme sign. He also uses his words.
"I'm fully aware delivering that kind of thing is my job. The provenance of any Deus Ex not of my Machina would be immediately suspect, anyway. So in the absence of that. I need you to do what you do best. Tell me what you See." He knows, because he has looked, that she has received a vision.
"Don't just repeat it to me. I don't want your recitation. I know what it says, I read it." What was he going to do? Not do that?
"I want your interpretation. Because you're damn right I don't believe we've failed."