aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa she can't move

-actually, that's useful, probably? She can't give away the game on accident by moving. This gives her time to think.

What does Vera want? 

...Deeply unclear, honestly. She gets the feeling that Vera doesn't really have a good answer to this, which is part of the problem.

How can Cara best avoid making Vera mad at her? Don't be nice to her, don't be concerned about her, don't be annoyed at her, don't act like this is a fun sexy hangout and not a deeply fucked up kidnapping, don't panic... 

...Don't be a person, really.

She keeps running her fingers through Cara's hair, the motion automatic now.

"This is nice," she says, mostly to herself. "When you're quiet. When you're not..." She trails off.

When you're not looking at me with those eyes that see too much. When you're not trying to help. When you're not real enough to judge what I'm doing.

"We need to figure out logistics," she says instead. "You can't go back to your apartment like this. Not during hell week. You'd die."

(She hasn't noticed.)

Yes, Vera, I've noticed you like me more as warm furniture, she doesn't say, both because it would be unwise and also because she can't.

..."We", huh. Somehow Cara doubts this is going to be very collaborative. That's okay, she can be a sounding board. 

At least the feeling of Vera's hand in her hair is nice.

"You'll stay here," she decides, the words coming out before she's really thought them through. "I have classes, but you can wait. While I'm gone."

She pauses, considering the logistics. A naked girl in her dorm room all day. That won't raise questions at all.

"I'll get you clothes. Books, maybe. Something to do when you're..." She gestures vaguely. "Aware."

Her fingers catch on a tangle in Cara's hair, and she works through it carefully, methodically.

"And we'll need to establish a schedule. For guiding."

Cara's never had an experience remotely like this before! She tries to lean into clinical fascination, poking what's happening here at a distance. It's easier than trying to grapple with the facts of the situation, especially when she's so powerless. And it's safer than poking the limits of what's allowed.

She wonders when Vera will remember that she needs food and water, or notice that her old order about the clock seems to have been overriden. Maybe something to mention, if she's allowed to speak again.

Books? She's not really much of a reader, hasn't been since learning how to talk to people, but... she's not going to get to be a person while Vera is gone, so this kind of seems pointless? (...but surprisingly thoughtful, given the givens.)

Guiding schedule, huh. This seems important. What's Vera thinking?

"Morning and evening," she says, working through the tangle. "Before I leave for classes, when I get back. More if you need it, obviously. You'll need more during hell week."

She's planning this like it's a lab schedule. Times and procedures and expected outcomes. It helps, having a framework.

"We'll need to be careful about the type of guiding. Can't have you waking up every time." She pauses, considering. "Though I suppose if you're null most of the day anyway..."

The tangle finally comes free. She smooths the hair down, then starts again from the roots.

"Are you hungry? You should eat something. When did you last eat?"

She doesn't actually wait for an answer, because of course Cara can't give one.

Can't have her waking up, huh. Well. Maybe it'll make the time pass faster. Maybe she'll die.

Oh, hey, Vera did remember she needs to eat. Um.

"...hard to tell if I'm hungry. I last ate when you fed me that pad thai, which was..." she can't see the clock from here, and she was told to stay still. "I dunno. A few hours ago?"

She tries to keep her voice as monotonous as she can.

She startles slightly at the voice. Right.

"That was..." She glances at the clock. "Six hours ago. You need food."

She doesn't stop playing with Cara's hair, though. The contact is too necessary right now.

"I have granola bars in the desk. Bottom drawer. When I tell you to move, you can get one." She pauses. "Get two. You're awakening, you need the calories."

But she doesn't tell her to move yet. Just keeps running her fingers through her hair, thinking through logistics that feel increasingly impossible.

Wow, two granola bars. Truly she is blessed on this day.

(She's so glad that Vera's orders aren't preventing her from being snarky inside her own head. That would have been terrible.)

She can't tell if Vera wants her to acknowledge the order or not... So she doesn't, because her current strategy is "be furniture". 

"Go. Get them."

She lifts her hand from Cara's hair reluctantly. She watches her carefully, looking for signs of resistance or attitude. Any indication that she's going to be difficult about this.

"And then come back here. Same position."

No attitude or resistence here, no ma'am. She gets up, opens the bottom drawer of the desk, grabs 2 granola bars, and then returns, keeping her face as blank as she can.

Then she lies back down in the bed, head placed in Vera's lap. She could eat the granola bars, even though she wasn't ordered to, but it's not what furniture would do, so she'll just keep holding them in her left hand. 

(...this sucks.)

She watches Cara lie there with the granola bars just... held. Like she's waiting for permission. Which she probably is.

Good. That's what she wanted, right? Perfect obedience. No judgment. No person there to see what she's doing.

Her hand finds Cara's hair again, automatic.

"Eat them," she says, because apparently she has to spell out every single thing. "Both of them."

She leans back against the headboard, suddenly exhausted. It's been such a long fucking day, and it's only afternoon.

She opens the first granola bar and starts eating it methodically. (She tries not to think about how Vera could have just as easily told her to jump out the window. She won't be that lucky.)

Eating with her head in Vera's lap is kind of weird. She does her best to keep crumb spillage to a minimum.

She watches Cara eat, mechanically, carefully. Like she's performing a task rather than feeding herself. Which she is, really. Just another command to follow.

A crumb falls onto her lap. She brushes it away absently.

"After this," she says, thinking out loud, "we should probably get you actual food. And water. And..." She trails off. Too many things. Too many decisions.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?"

Yes or no questions with clear solutions.

Oh, real food, okay, that's good.

Hmmm. Does she need to use the bathroom? Not obviously... 

"I don't think so?" she says, a bit hesitantly.

(She finishes off the first granola bar, and opens the second one.)

She pauses. "You don't think so?"

Welp. 

She should at least answer usefully. "The backlash makes it hard to tell, unless it's urgent."

Munch munch the granola. Her face is still turned away from Vera, which is probably for the best.

"What does that even mean? Either you do or you don't."

She's getting irritated again. Every simple question turns into something complicated. Even basic biological functions apparently require analysis.

"Just go. Use the bathroom. Then come back."

Better to just make it a command. Remove the uncertainty entirely.

She opens her mouth to answer, but as Vera continues, she re-interprets the question as rhetorical, leaving her space to choose whether to answer or not (huh. interesting). She doesn't. Furniture doesn't explain its backlash.

She goes to the bathroom, relieves herself, and throws out the granola wrappers. She doesn't remember seeing any bleach in the bathroom cabinet, but she didn't look that hard. Come on, Cara, it's not that bad.

She washes her hands, then comes back to Vera, moving to settle back into the position she was just in.

She lets Cara settle back into position, hand automatically finding her hair again. The routine of it is almost soothing. Pet the broken thing. Feel better. Simple.

"I need to get you clothes," she says, thinking out loud again. "Can't have you naked all week. People would notice."

She traces idle patterns on the nape of Cara's neck, considering logistics.

"What's your size? For everything. Clothes, shoes, whatever."

She has clothes back at her room, but whatever. 

"Medium shirt, 28A bra, 26 for pants. Medium dresses usually fit me. Size 9 shoes." She wonders what kind of clothes Vera will buy for her.

She files the information away mechanically. Of course Cara's tiny. Everything about her is small and breakable.

"I'll order something online. It'll be here tomorrow." She pauses, considering. "You can wear my clothes until then. They'll be big but..."

She trails off. But what? But it's better than nothing? But she likes the idea of Cara wearing her things?

"We need to talk about what happens when I'm in class," she says instead. "You can't just... be null all day. You'd probably die or something."

...she is going to wait and see if Vera is actually looking for her to say something, or not. She's been learning that "We" can mean a lot of things.

(She probably could stay 'null' while Vera is gone, is the thing. She's not sure if that's better than being kept and conscious, and she's not sure if it matters, practically, because - the backlash builds up really fast, when she's not being guided.)

The silence stretches. She's waiting for input, apparently, but Cara's not giving any. Smart. Learning the rules.

"You'll need to be conscious at least some of the time," she decides. "To eat. Drink water. Not... atrophy or whatever."

She keeps playing with Cara's hair, thinking through the logistics.

"I'll leave you instructions. Things to do while I'm gone. Nothing complicated." She pauses. "And you'll follow them. Even when you're aware."

It's not really a question.