"D'we want to -" do anything else today, the thought completes, but - "or, actually..." today is the third day, isn't it; they should take that into account in their plans. She's not sure how, though, offhand; she consults his memories for clues to how he's likely to react to fear in different contexts.

Or she tries to, anyway. "Ma'am?" Daisy interrupts.

"Yeah?" It takes her a second to reorient. "Oh - not sure whether going out tonight is a very good idea, or a very bad one."

Oh. Right.

He has fewer memories of being afraid than he probably should, and the recent ones are overwhelming. Old ones are fear of loneliness, fear of abandonment, fear of himself, more than anything else, and predictably most of them take place when he’s alone and he responds to them with some variety of self-injury.

“I’ll be fine. I know it isn’t real.”

"Mm - better safe than sorry, though. But it probably is best to go out" - being out and around people is the least like being trapped in a little room, and if they stay and he needs her to beat him up again she'll be burning some social capital to make that happen - "and just make sure we can get somewhere private if we need to."

He nods.

They’ll go out. It’ll be fine. He likes being around people, and if he breaks down anyway they’ll be able to go somewhere else, where there won’t be...threats? People aren’t threats. People are fine. It’s being trapped that isn’t safe, not being out there—but either way—when did “not safe” start mattering to him anyway?—

“...I want my arm back.”

It’s not really about his arm, this time, but he doesn’t really know what he needs to get back, exactly, and that’s the closest thing.

"Yeah." She leans into him for a moment, then brings her hand up to the back of his neck as she pulls away slightly.

"It'll be okay. I'm good at safe." He's going to need time to figure out society again, clearly, and the obvious division of labor is for her to bodyguard him while he focuses on that; that's more or less what she'd be doing regardless, anyway.

“...yeah.”

They’ll be fine. She’ll keep them safe while he can’t. He’ll keep them open while she can’t, as much as he’s able.

She loves him so much.

"So, what do we want to do?"

“...what’s even around here? Do we leave the hospital?”

"That's what I was thinking, yeah. Daisy, have you checked what's nearby?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We're in the business district, a few blocks east of an upscale shopping area. The art district is about a mile north of here, and the entertainment district is northwest of that."

"Sounds good. Do you want to come with us?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"All right. Good."

sounds like a pretty good walk.

And...he's a little excited about the shopping district. He's never actually had money to burn on something like that before.

Or we can rent a speeder. Either way.

"Anything else we want to do here before we go out?" I should probably see if there's any obvious way to let us talk separately, actually.

...yeah, that’d be nice. it’s kinda fun to watch people react but it’s kind of a sometimes thing.

Yeah.

"I should see what I can do about our voice, actually."

    "Yes, Ma'am."

She meditates, examining their connection. Say something for me?

All words he knows suddenly disappear from his mind, as is often the case when prompted to “say something”.

“Uh. ... ‘In the furthest reaches of the galaxy, far from all civilization, two intrepid pioneers...’”

It’s the intro to a movie he watched in his childhood.

It's a little distracting, speaking herself while she meditates, but she's got plenty of practice; it doesn't take her long to regain her focus, and she quickly finds the relevant connection. It's grown in, like the rest - the Force is very convinced that they're one creature, now - but she'll probably be able to fix it once she has her memories back. Probably. In the meantime - even if they're one creature, they should be able to choose which of their mouths they talk with. It's not that different from choosing which of their hands they use for something; it might take a little focus, like catching something with her left hand instead of instinctively using her right, but it's clearly possible. She practices with her hands for a moment, watching how that choice manifests in the Force, and then copies the relevant parts over, still muttering along.

He stumbles over the familiar words a little while he watches their connection change shape.

This is still the default; best I can do, for now. But if you try to just use your mouth, it shouldn't be too hard. I don't think we can say different things at the same time yet.

He nods.

“Che—”

No, wait, that was hers. He tries again.

“Check, one, two.”

“Cool.”