"Sure.  - Do you think I should apologize to Alassëo?  I mean, obviously it's apology-worthy, but - I don't know whether I'd want to be told, if it were me and if it'd already happened and there was nothing I could do about it and it wasn't going to happen again.  And if it wasn't even clear whether, in fact . . ."

"I can look up his advance directive for if he were to be captured and see if that sheds any light." He pulls his computer off his belt and checks. "My guess is don't mention it."

"Okay, I won't.  Thanks.  Uh, were you intending to cut me off from blood or not - it'd be reasonable but I would like to know either way - "

"You could always ask Nechar or run up a tab with Bar, I don't feel the need to symbolically protest at this time." He presents her with a glass of blood.

"Thanks."  She drinks.

Without actually trying anything, can she tell whether she'd be able to run a version of herself?

What?  No.  She's already herself; why would she want to do that.

Uh, reasons.  She's . . . bad at introspection?  And wants to know what she'd do in dire circumstances.  Like how she thought she wouldn't be able to go through with trying to murder someone; if she'd known that she could, maybe she wouldn't have doubled down so hard so early out of feeling like she was just trying to get out of it.

Ehn.  Tough luck.

She sighs and finishes the last of her glass.  "Could I please have a conjured burger.  And some fries."

"What fixings do you like on those?"

"I don't think I remember what normally goes on them; I haven't had one since like sixth grade.  Uh . . . not?  Onions?  - Ketchup and/or vinegar would be good for the fries."

Plain burger, basket of fries, side of ketchup.

"Thanks!"  Gosh, hot meals eaten not-in-your-bedroom are underrated.  Or possibly the correct amount of rated by everyone pushing the importance of family dinners and previously underrated by her personally.

Once she's done: "Was there anything else for right now, do you think."

"Not that I know of."

"Great.  Uh, see you later, I guess."

"Bye. Let me know if you need more blood or whatever."

"Yeah, thanks; I will."

She has to remind herself, going upstairs, that she intends to come back down as soon as she feels like it, and that this will definitely be after an amount of time best measured in hours and not days.

She takes off her shoes and lies on her bed and closes her eyes and hugs a pillow, and puts on the complete symphonic recording of Les Misérables, and cries about that instead of any of the actual things going on that are worth crying about. She doesn't start immediately but once she hits "I Dreamed a Dream" she just kind of keeps going even through the comic relief parts.

At some point she dozes off, ish.  It feels like she's still mulling over everything but there are definitely some songs that she doesn't remember hearing this time so probably that's what's happening.

- And then, halfway through what must be her second listen, something clicks and she's suddenly very awake and slipping into her sneakers without bothering to get her heels in properly and going downstairs without bothering to wash the having-cried off her face.

Cam is looking over the blueprints of buildings in an Elf city that was bombed to hell during the war.

"Cam!  Are you, um, interruptable - "  She leans against a wall, starts putting on her shoes properly.

"- yes? Are... you okay?"

"Yep!  Maybe!"  She's speaking rather quickly.  " - Um, do you think, uh, the - Security, if - they were people, the simulations, would - ?"

"Maybe, or maybe being in a simulation doesn't count as being in the Security-covered area, I guess it bears asking Bar..."

She nods several times rapidly and hops over, one-shoed, to address Bar.  "Hi."

Hello, how can I help you?

"Um, I don't know how much context you've overheard - "