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Later, when Tony has become weary of activities that do not involve fancy machines and the possibility of electrocution, Sherlock and Bell are snuggling just each other.

"In the interest of full disclosure," Bell says, "there is a thing on my recorder that you should probably hear."
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"...Yes?"

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Bell disentangles herself and goes up to get it. She descends the stairs in a usual manner without falling over even slightly.

"This was not originally intended for sharing, so please keep that in mind," Bell murmurs.

She swallows, and unlocks the material, and presses play.

"-nice to me. Uh," the recorder says in her voice. "Geez. Lock starting fifteen seconds ago until end of segment. This is all starting to add up to me having a crush on Tony. It does look like that, doesn't it. Is that weird? I think that's maybe weird. I'm moving in with him and Sherlock, have no indication of anything other than friendliness and a general desire to acquire allies with which to overthrow the Capitol on his end - okay, pathetic, Bell, you have a crush on the first guy you meet from your own world who knows you're not insane, that says loads about your discernment, huh? You're not that lucky. You're the unlucky version, if you were a lucky Bell you'd be running a magic empire, right, the first guy you meet from your world who doesn't think you hit your head as a kid isn't going to also be a good idea to crush on, is he? I mean he is nice - so nice, they're both so nice and he's cute but - I think I'd better just not do anything, my judgment could be compromised. There will be plenty of time for - for everything after all this is over, I don't think he likes me except in the sense that - well. He's being charitable. He's a nice person is all, maybe he'd have a dozen poor Fouries living in his house if Sherlock met them in Milliways and they could be presumed displeased with the Capitol, I don't know. I don't know nearly enough to feel this way and I've gone and done it anyway. I'm not sure I want to kill it. Probably could, right, that's my thing, but I think I'll let it live. For now anyway."

There's a bit of silence, and then the hubbub of Milliways as Bell presumably exits her room to mingle with the patrons.
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"Tony is very lovable," says Sherlock. "And he likes you."

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"This was recorded a while ago," Bell says, tucking the recorder into her pocket and ducking her head. "By now I have the idea that he pretty much likes most people, including a vaguely dismaying fraction of Capitol-dwellers."

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"That is true," Sherlock agrees. "I predict a near certainty that if he heard this recording or a summary of its contents, he would want to hug you."

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"Well, that would be embarrassing, that's why I waited for him to go away."

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"I see," says Sherlock.



"How do you feel about him currently?"
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"Well, I still have a crush on him, or I wouldn't have thought this relevant. I haven't killed it, yet."

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"He likes you," says Sherlock. "Not just in the same way he likes anything that has recognizable emotions."

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"...As in the relevant sense, or as in I am at least marginally distinct from a puppy or the next-door neighbors?"

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"I don't know how to translate. You and he have very different experiences of the world. If you told him this, he would think it was sweet, and want to hug you and tell you that he likes you. If you asked him to kiss you he would say yes."

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"That... does indeed fail to translate into something I know how to label," muses Bell.

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Sherlock shrugs.

"I am very good at Tony, even though I am not very good at anyone else."
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Bell hesitates.

But Sherlock said that she'd transmit her entire experience of the world if she could. And Bell believes her. And she can do something just about that sweet. If she wants to.

Bell hands Sherlock the recorder. "You can listen to anything on this. It's... basically my brain. There's only a handful of locked parts and most of them are locked because the other person found out I was recording and wanted it done, not because they're like what you just heard. Mostly I've been willing to rely on strangers not knowing how to work it and friendlier types never getting their hands on it."
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Sherlock takes it.

And—stops, for a moment, doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't breathe, doesn't do anything at all.

And then she hugs Bell.
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Bell hugs her back, tight.

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"Thank you," she murmurs.

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"You're welcome," Shell Bell murmurs back. "Um, if you could tell me which things you're listening to, that would be - good. And I'll want it on me whenever I'm in Milliways and whenever I need to work something tricky out."

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"Yes," she says. "Yes, of course."

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Nuzzle nuzzle.

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Later, she will listen to things.

Right now: snuggles.
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