★ it makes you burn to learn i'm with another man | sobbing on emily ;;

[11ady]

[In the months following the fallout from the holodeck fiasco, Une's been a bit of recluse. She's hardly ever seen outside HQ and her contact with the network is always kept to text. Faceless. It's easier to hide from the world in the midst of all that's happened. She's been betrayed by those she considered allies, thrown into simulated realities and toyed with. To enslave her mind like that was beyond criminal.

But she doesn't have the luxury of prolonged sabbatical. It's October. The holiday gala will be soon. A fire and ice ball to improve PR. Her engagement party...

For the first time in a long time, she slips into a dress.

Not blue; it reminds her too much of His Excellency's stare.

Not purple; it reminds her too much of her lost one-eyed king.

Not green; it reminds her too much of the uniform she wears while facing the challenge of duty.

No, she wears black. The color of mourning. It's a tight fit, hugging her curves in all the right places, cutting far enough above the knee to bare some thigh. The straps are thin and the neckline dips to show off some cleavage.

For the first time in a long time, she wants to be seen.

Clutching her purse, she walks down the street of the commercial district with no particular destination in mind.]

Comments

[thieving]

( The part of him that is still trying to be John would have taken her into his arms had she come to him. But the overbearing part of him that is still Jim - has always been Jim is determined to eradicate every last trace of this simulated life. He was someone who had been real. Someone who had mattered to another, an entirely alien feeling to the criminal consultant, who claimed to be untouchable. Forcibly, he removed himself from thinking of that life as "John Hall" - the man was a statistic.

Numbers made him feel more like himself. If he could crunch them, he'd be himself.

Elle. Elle. Elle. Why won't you let me see Elle? John whispers inside of Jim. And the Irishman scowls a little, savagely retaking control of himself: You're dead. Stay so, Private Hall. I will not be your ghost. )

Long enough, Lady Une, to recover from the strangest illness. No worries, though, I've purged it from my system.

( Mercilessly, he cants his head and smirks at her in return. This time, he does not take her hand in return, his own remain in his pockets as he gives her peace offering a bit of a glance - returns his eyes to hers. They're the eyes of a shark. Black, cold, with something dark looking out.

Something inside of Jim has always been dead and rotting, go figure it'd take on a name in the end. )