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Shell Bell doesn't get off the train immediately when they hit District Three. Tony has one last miserable speech to deliver, and the train will then stick around long enough for everything to be unloaded. Bell sits tight in Sherlock's compartment with the TV on, keeps her wits about her, and awaits cues from either Stark twin.
ferratus
This speech is largely similar to the rest of them, but with more cheering. He is still sorry about the girl from his own district; her family, however, apparently doesn't want to hear it. Tony performs as well as ever.
Afterward, he comes back to Sherlock's room and has one more go at the door.
Afterward, he comes back to Sherlock's room and has one more go at the door.
she_sells_seashells
"Oh, thank goodness," breathes Shell Bell, and she scurries through.
she_sells_seashells
Shell Bell has an uneventful couple of days in Milliways, relative to how Milliways normally is. She eats. She scrubs tables. She talks to a variety of people who have interesting lives but no loot to share or services to hire. She pays down a little more of the Starks' tab by talking to someone about managing their feudal vassals and receiving a purse full of gold coins - she keeps some of them as-is in case it turns out that gold wire is necessary to get the full megaglonn yield out of the generator and Tony knows how to draw it to the relevant specifications.
After she's been there for a couple days, local time, she wakes up to find decorations everywhere. It must be another holiday. She overlapped with one before - it was called Crismus or something like that, this was before she got her recorder - and the color scheme and the symbols were different, but it appears to be the same phenomenon, just a different underlying holiday. Pink and red and white. Lace and ribbons and endless repetitions of a shape like a mirrored, unbroken wave. She pays it no attention.
After she's been there for a couple days, local time, she wakes up to find decorations everywhere. It must be another holiday. She overlapped with one before - it was called Crismus or something like that, this was before she got her recorder - and the color scheme and the symbols were different, but it appears to be the same phenomenon, just a different underlying holiday. Pink and red and white. Lace and ribbons and endless repetitions of a shape like a mirrored, unbroken wave. She pays it no attention.
sicaria
At around Shell Bell's subjective lunchtime, Sherlock enters the bar and commences searching for her. It ought not to take long.
she_sells_seashells
Yep! There she is, right by the sign. "Hi, Sherlock," she calls.
(Bell is determined not to be awkward around either Sherlock or Tony, despite what she wound up informing herself the previous subjective evening talking to her recorder alone in her room. That segment is locked; it'll act like it's not there until she authorizes it, even if she carelessly plays through a time period that includes it.)
(Bell is determined not to be awkward around either Sherlock or Tony, despite what she wound up informing herself the previous subjective evening talking to her recorder alone in her room. That segment is locked; it'll act like it's not there until she authorizes it, even if she carelessly plays through a time period that includes it.)
sicaria
Sherlock smiles back and crosses the room to stand by Bell's table.
"We are safely home, and you may return at your leisure," she says.
"We are safely home, and you may return at your leisure," she says.
she_sells_seashells
"Great, I," Bell says, standing up, and then she says, "ow!" She feels at the back of her neck, confused.
sicaria
Sherlock frowns.
Then she claps her hand to the side of her neck and spins, staring intently in the direction from which the mystery projectiles came.
It's up in the rafters, and as far as her senses can detect, there is absolutely no one there.
Then she claps her hand to the side of her neck and spins, staring intently in the direction from which the mystery projectiles came.
It's up in the rafters, and as far as her senses can detect, there is absolutely no one there.
she_sells_seashells
"What was that?" exclaims Bell. "I - what - Sherlock - what was that?"
she_sells_seashells
"I feel strange," Bell says, sitting back down hard and looking with a despairing expression at Sherlock. "There's - were we drugged?"
sicaria
"I... am not sure," she says slowly, frowning. "Not by anything I recognize. But at Milliways, that is hardly the final word."
she_sells_seashells
"I don't know what else - I - I want -" She sits bolt upright, and says, "Something is wrong. Something is really really wrong."
she_sells_seashells
"Whatever just bit me is messing with my brain. I did not feel this way a minute ago, I did not do it on purpose, and now it is happening anyway, and I am scared that that can happen, and even though this is part of the problem all I want is for you to hug me and tell me it'll be okay," says Bell, bursting into tears.
sicaria
"...I don't know what to do," Sherlock says helplessly. But regardless, she finds herself reaching across the table and touching Bella's hand.
she_sells_seashells
Bell squeezes Sherlock's hand hard and drops her face into the other elbow, sobbing.
sicaria
"I am experiencing a similar problem," says Sherlock. "I don't know what is going on."
she_sells_seashells
"We must've been drugged or something," sniffs Bell. "When I was little I was scared of tracker jackers more than anything - they sting you and your brain changes - but they don't cross water and Ranae said I could always run out to the docks and get on a boat if they were after me - and then here something stings me and I - I -"
She squeezes Sherlock's hand again like she believes herself to be dangling over a pit suspended by nothing else.
She squeezes Sherlock's hand again like she believes herself to be dangling over a pit suspended by nothing else.
sicaria
Sherlock very much wants to hug her and tell her it will be okay.
But she doesn't actually know that.
She takes down the sign.
But she doesn't actually know that.
She takes down the sign.
she_sells_seashells
"Good idea," sniffs Bell.
She seems to be recovering a little from her panic, although she's not less upset, just less out of control.
She reclaims her hand and hugs herself, in the absence of Sherlock hugs.
She seems to be recovering a little from her panic, although she's not less upset, just less out of control.
She reclaims her hand and hugs herself, in the absence of Sherlock hugs.
sicaria
Sherlock comes around to the other side of the table, leans on the corner of it, and hugs her.