coppelganger | ic contact; MoM

If they ask me to. Figured it'd get us more protection, y'know? People looking after their own. The memory thing'll be good for checking witness claims, and that, if they want me doing that. Very least it's a pay cheque.

( Sarissa chews the inside of her cheek, turning to look at Sarah. She's abandoned the ridiculous tank tops with slogans and cartoons in favour of a plain grey one, for now. Her tanlines are less striking, in winter, but still linger stubbornly, and her hair is pulled back into a messy looking bun. )

Thinking about becoming a cop again, actually. Dunno if I'll be eligible or whatever, but... ( But there it is. )

[ "Oh. Maybe you could... not do that," is what Sarah wants to say. She gets that Sarissa wants to protect them all, she really does, but Sarah's not a fan of the idea of her sister purposefully running towards more dangerous situations as a way to achieve that. Thing is, though, she doesn't fool herself into thinking that she can control what her sisters do. Not really, anyway. ]

Oh. That's—you wanna be a cop again? [ Probably not the enthusiasm Sarissa wanted, but what the hell. ]

( Sarissa stops her cooking fussing, at that. It's really all just needing to simmer or bake or whatever the hell it is that whatever she's cooking needs to do, so she's wiping down the counters before she looks over her shoulder at Sarah. )

I was good at it. ( Her gaze drops, and she resumes cleaning - it's not a sad gaze dropping, really. Sarissa sounds matter of fact as she continues, ) Wasn't good at much else.

Come on, don't say that. You're good at lots of things.

[ She leans against the counter and, so she has something to do with her hands, picks up a salt shaker and taps her fingers against it. ]

I can disassemble bombs, put together a rifles in the dark, and rescue people from bullshit situations and investigate shit. Brawling and being an idiot and wanking on about art, that's not-- an employable set of skills.

( She stops what she's doing, and turns to face Sarah properly.)

I'm not good at much that's worth shit, Saroula. I don't wanna get tangled up with a situation like Kavinsky again.

I think you'd do good working with kids.

[ It sounds weak, not because she doesn't believe it, but because she doesn't think it's going to make a difference. Sarissa might not be a clone, but she can be just as stubborn as one.]

I just—I don't want you to think you need to do this, to make up for anything, or... [ She shrugs helplessly. ]

( She laughs quietly, and the sound is sort of— squeaky and sad, as if she were recovering from strep throat and sleepiness and crying, all at the same time. Though she moves closer to Sarah, she doesn't make any immediate moves to pull her into a hug or knock their shoulders together. Instead, her hand rests at the back of Sarah's neck for a moment, fingers lightly resting against Sarah's spine, thumb brushing over Sarah's jaw. )

You have too much faith in me, Saroula. I do have to make up for all that, but that's not the only reason I'm doing this. I can't keep being what I let myself become. I've been doing you damage this whole year, being like this.

[ Sarah goes quiet, then, slouching back against the counter and not meeting Sarissa's eyes. She's trying to think of something supportive to say, or a way to make herself more enthusiastic about this, but she can't think of a single thing. Finally she nods, more resigned than agreeable. ]

If you want to do this, you should.

( Sarah leans away, and out of some mix of caution and gentleness, Sarissa does not try to maintain the contact. She wants to, because contact with Sarah has come to mean automatic reassurance, but this ain't about her. Can't be. Sarah isn't responsible for making her feel like there's a void in her, like if she took a step too far she'd just fall away into an abyss, stop being Sarissa at all. )

I want to do what's right. This is just-- a means to that. ( Her hand drops to her side. ) You're my conpss, Asteri mou.

You don't have to keep putting yourself in danger just because you think it's the right thing to do.

[ She worries a fingernail in her mouth for a second or two, then sighs and pushes herself off the counter. ] If this is something you really wanna do, I won't say anything else about it. [ She walks slowly to the kitchen doorway, then says over her shoulder, ] I'll be back in a bit for dinner.

( It sucks when the right thing doesn't even feel like the right thing. She nods as Sarah pulls away, just a little tilt of her head. Instead she attempts to muster up a smile, though it's weak. )

But I'm so good at it.

( Its a bad joke, and her expression is almost immediately "why did I say that?" )

Yeah, sweet. I'll call you when it's ready.

ic contact; MoM

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