07-29-2014, 01:48 PM
Drayson's sympathetic smile washed Torri with guilt. She'd not meant to drift, but her mind was split in a dozen directions at once. Part of her was tuned to the sensation of her Wallet buzzing an alert from EOA while continuing to wonder how long remaining Facility patients would live. There was Michael, too, in the back of her mind waiting like the memory of a bad dream she couldn't shake. Her bias was likely unfair, but he frightened her more than any of the others. Probably because she'd seen first hand what he could do. To stand in his presence was literally to place her life in his hands. She didn't like that kind of vulnerability.
Here Drayson was, a good man, trying to rouse her drowsy interest for a pleasant dinner. She was glad he chose to redirect the topic at hand, but she was not prepared to find herself pleasantly surprised by where he selected they journey.
His mention of Rio's library caught her off guard. "Actually yes, yes I did,"
she said. She smiled conspiratorial and gestured that he hold that thought a moment while she ran through some searches on her Wallet. A few moments later she turned the screen toward him to browse. "That's me and my mom,"
she pointed at an eleven-year-old version of herself standing in the great domed room. Books stretched high like a waterfall of knowledge behind her. At that age, Torri had shoulder length crop of hair, was wearing sneakers, shorts and a tank-top. Her skin was tanned and her smile toothy. Her mom was next to her with one hand resting on her daughter's shoulder.
"What made you bring it up? Have you been there?
Here Drayson was, a good man, trying to rouse her drowsy interest for a pleasant dinner. She was glad he chose to redirect the topic at hand, but she was not prepared to find herself pleasantly surprised by where he selected they journey.
His mention of Rio's library caught her off guard. "Actually yes, yes I did,"
she said. She smiled conspiratorial and gestured that he hold that thought a moment while she ran through some searches on her Wallet. A few moments later she turned the screen toward him to browse. "That's me and my mom,"
she pointed at an eleven-year-old version of herself standing in the great domed room. Books stretched high like a waterfall of knowledge behind her. At that age, Torri had shoulder length crop of hair, was wearing sneakers, shorts and a tank-top. Her skin was tanned and her smile toothy. Her mom was next to her with one hand resting on her daughter's shoulder.
"What made you bring it up? Have you been there?