#I wish literally anyone else here had a duo name or smth JDHJDJD

[frozenjokes]

mentally well people have mentally well reactions to each other

“Come on now, what happened? I’ll needle it out of you, you know I will, so you might as well just spill.” Cleo’s voice from the other end of the room dented Scar’s half asleep haze, and his ear pricked, listening. Scar doubted he was hearing anything he wasn’t supposed to, but if this was ‘girl talk’ (defined as Cub and Cleo gossiping about him, Scar came to learn), he didn’t think he was explicitly invited either, hence Cleo waiting until Scar took his intermittent afternoon nap up near the ceiling.

Cub only grunted in response, which clearly was not the answer Cleo was looking for.

“I’m not going to believe that you and Scar went and slept on top of each other in his starting room for no reason.”

“Nothing ‘happened,’ Cleo. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“That is so lame.”

“It was lame. I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you went to the Scar room to sleep on the floor. With Scar.”

“Yes. That’s what happened.”

“You seriously suck.”

“Maybe I missed sleeping with someone, it’s been lonely all by myself.”

Cleo scoffed, making quite the fuss given all the shuffling Scar heard, “No one’s making you sleep alone. I bet Scar would be thrilled to have you, the more the merrier, whatever.”

“You don’t want me.” Cub seemed to be doing his best effort at sounding sad, but he wasn’t very good at it.

“Nope,” Cleo popped the ‘p,’ “I don’t. But whatever, three’s a party.”

“This is why I slept in Scar’s room.”

“You are such a liar! What’s your problem!? You didn’t fuck, Scar wouldn’t fuck you. Neither of you are injured.”

“I have a couple scratches.”

“So do I, it’s called living with a cat, doofus.”

“Damn.” There was a lot more shuffling of blankets, and Scar opened an eye to see Cub hiding under the covers of his bed, only for Cleo to get up and pounce on him.

“You’re not off the hook yet, mister!”

Scar closed his eye as fighting and squabbling ensued, uninterested in their bickering. At least they were playing, Scar preferred when they played. Sometimes they tuckered themselves out like that, just laying in a winded heap. Ideal, honestly. Perfect for perching on top of; Scar always took full advantage. Today though, the noise started to escalate, and Scar glared through narrowed eyes as Cleo started to play whack-a-mole with Cub’s knees. Bad sign. Next Cub would start cussing them out, he always got nasty, and Cleo would go for the throat until the both of them were upset and seething.

Scar leapt from his place near the ceiling, crossed the room in four short bounds, hopped up onto Cub’s bed and delivered a quick bite to Cleo’s shoulder, shoving them off the blanket so Cub could escape, only to snap at him too the moment he surfaced. Scar had to resist stomping on him the moment he hid back under the covers with a squeak; sometimes that deep seeded instinct to Kill Small Thing came out of nowhere, but Scar refrained.

“I’m sick of you. Both of you.”

Cleo snorted, “Me too.”

“Personally I’m doing alright,” Cub mumbled, to which Scar gave in and stomped on him, effectively shutting him up.

“If you don’t want to be treated like children then you’d better stop acting like them. I’m tired of it! Not every disagreement has to end in pummeling each other, you’re going to start being nice, I swear it.” Scar’s tail lashed, only whipping harder at the amused look on Cleo’s face.

“Good luck with that. I’ll trade you a compliment if you tell me what the hell happened with you and Cub last night.” Scar bit them because they really deserved it, then sat back up as Cleo yelped, smoothing the fur at his shoulders when they huffed, “Will you stop that?”

“Maybe that’s a good idea. Maybe you should say something nice, but not to me.” Scar’s tail continued to lash, but now in a growing excitement, “Each of you are going to say one- no- two nice things about each other! Clearly you need the practice! I can count on one paw the amount of marginally kind things you’ve said to each other, both of you, and that’s terrible! How can you stand that?”

“I don’t.” Cleo snorted, “That’s why I kill him.”

“And you don’t like to do it. You don’t like killing each other or yelling at each other or any of it! It hurts, I know it hurts.”

Perhaps this was a sentiment relayed to Scar in confidence, the atmosphere shifting in a split second to something cool and dangerous.

“You- You said- It’s okay if it hurts your feelings, Cleo, I mean- I don’t like it either! You know I don’t like it. I didn’t mean to overshare-“ Scar struggled to amend, but was painfully aware his stammering was only digging himself into a deeper hole.

The silence was deafening, and the withering look Cleo whipped Scar with almost made him falter, fur beginning to prickle under the intensity. Well, Cleo didn’t want to kill Cub anymore, that was for sure. Scar was starting to wish they’d go back to arguing.

“Cleo-“

“I can’t help but notice that Cub has nothing to say,” Cleo spoke thickly, honey-sweet dripping off venom loaded fangs, hot and begging to strike. Cub knew it, and he wasn’t surfacing from his blanket cave any time soon; Scar envied him desperately. “What do you think of me?”

“I think,” Cub started, tiptoeing, more than aware of the cobra looming above him, “Maybe. It’s not a terrible idea. Niceties- Compliments, however Scar phrased it. We can try.”

Cleo sneered, disgust raking through the air like barbed claws, snatching the oxygen from Scar’s lungs. “I see.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh you don’t, do you?” Cleo’s voice was scathing, and despite the words not being directed at him, Scar shrank away as if burned, “Don’t want to talk about it? Why? Never kept anything from me before, no reason to, nothing to hide, unless there is,” Cleo whirled on Scar, and all he could think of was hiding, running away, but he was frozen in her blistering glare, “What did you say about me? Jump to a couple conclusions, have you? What did you fucking say.”

Scar’s mouth went completely dry. He prayed that his microphone would miraculously combust.

“Scar.”

“Stop it.” With some strain and awkward shuffling, Cub resurfaced from underneath the blankets, shaking out his hair, “Leave him alone, no one said anything about you.”

Cub did not flinch under Cleo’s vehemence, always mild, and Scar didn’t know how. “Do you think I’m fragile? Go on, I can take it.”

“For fuck’s sake, not everything is about you,” Cub’s frustration left him in a huff, and silence afterwards was so utterly petrifying, Scar could do nothing else but cover his eyes. “-Wait. No, that wasn’t- That came out wrong.”

“Oh did it now?”

“I’m sorry.”

No one moved. The whole spaceship seemed to stop in time, no white noise, no chugging machines, no sound. Scar wouldn’t have been surprised if both their planets stopped spinning, if only for a moment. Cub managed to find his footing.

“I really- I really didn’t mean that. It just- it wasn’t about you, it really wasn’t, it was about me. It was about me. Me not- not being good enough. And I didn’t want to talk about it because I don’t like thinking about it because I don’t want to hold myself to a higher standard, but I am starting to feel like maybe I should, and there’s- there’s just a lot of dissonance happening. Because I want to be fine with this. Unkindnesses. Because it’s not worth fixing, right? My life is already over, there’s no point whether I get out of here in one year or five, no point trying to preserve any humanity in myself, because it’s over. Every day it’s worse, even through the resets, I feel myself going, I know it’s over. And it’s over for you, too. We’re not making it out of this. There’s nothing left for either of us back home. No point.. no point trying.” Cub pursed his lips. “Unless you do care. Unless it matters to you how we live here, how we treat each other because it- It. What matters to you matters to me. And I-” Cub laughed, sheepish, “I don’t really know when that happened but.. I don’t know. I don’t really want to talk anymore.”

It was slow, the way Cleo leaned over, almost lurched, and wrapped their arms around Cub, pulling him toward her, so the both of them ended up in the middle, inclined awkwardly, hugging tightly. Scar wanted out. He wanted out so bad. He wanted out more than he’d wanted out of anything his entire life, but when he started to move, Cleo grabbed him, and there was no more escape.

“‘M sorry, buddy,” she mumbled, and maybe she sensed his panic, because graciously, Cleo released him, and Scar scurried away out the closest door, which just happened to be the one to his reset room. He managed not to die on the way there, and reveled in air that wasn’t hot, sliding back against the wall right where he’d been the night before.

…

“It’s not over, Cub,” Cleo mumbled, and they did mean it, they meant it with their whole heart, but they did not know if it was true. All the same, if Cub was convinced he had no life to live after they were released, she would not change his mind. Cub was rigid, immovably stubborn; he decided things about the world and himself as a form of control, he needed that control, because letting go meant Not Knowing, and that was so much worse than being unhappy, being bad, committing acts of interpersonal and environmental violence on purpose, becoming a man that no one could forgive. It was easier to be intentional.

If you weren’t bad, then what were you? Why were you here? How did you get so sick?

Cub couldn’t face those questions. He had to answer them objectively, conform to the new person he needed to be, erase all dissonance, and become the type of man who’d wage that kind of war.

But it couldn’t be over. It couldn’t be over for Cub because Cleo wasn’t ready for it to be over, and she couldn’t do this without him. She didn’t know what came after this, she was afraid, and she couldn’t face it by herself. So Cub needed to believe it would be okay, at least for a few months, a few years, as long as he lived after this was over.

“You matter too much to me for it to be over. I’m not ready.”

“That.” Cub paused for a moment, and Cleo wished they could read his mind, because they had no fucking idea what was going through his head. “Is extremely inconvenient for me.”

Cleo laughed, a relieved sound maybe, because an answer like that was just so Cub, so human, and that was proof enough he wasn’t as far gone as he believed, “That so? Bet it would be a lot easier for you if I only considered you a pain in the ass.”

“How did I fuck this up so bad.”

Cleo shrugged, resting their chin on his shoulder, “You’re kinda fun.”

“Fun? Fucking hell.”

“Uh huh. Where’s my compliment?”

Cub pursed his lips, to which Cleo smacked him gently on the forehead, chuckling when he scoffed. “I didn’t study for this quiz.”

“How about we come back to you later, then.”

Cleo felt Cub breathe against her, deep, full, he always breathed so deeply, and Cleo wondered if he struggled to get enough air, or maybe he just appreciated the breath in his lungs while he still had the chance to take it in.

“That’s okay with me.”

“Good,” Cleo mumbled, closing their eyes, but opening them just as quickly, “I’ll go fetch Scar.. shouldn’ve bit his head off like that. Just.. struck a nerve.”

Cub nodded against their shoulder, then hardly loud enough to hear, “But I’m glad he said something..”

…

The walkthrough was over. Finally, it was over, and the humans were ready to begin the puzzle. Scar was antsy to get started, contrasting infuriatingly with the general apathy the humans seemed to feel, taking their sweet ass time writing notes and setting off traps and making sure everything was Literally Perfect before they began. Scar had hoped he could get a head start while Cub and Cleo finished everything they needed to do, but he didn’t know how, and the humans either didn’t trust him to not fuck something up, or they were just dismissive because they were so damn apathetic about this whole scenario. Either way, it was driving Scar crazy. ‘I’ll show you where we start when we’re all ready to take a look,’ JUST SHOW ME NYEEOW!

But it was done. The walkthrough was done, and Scar could finally see what the hell was the deal with this ‘box’ they two of them kept vaguing about.

“Don’t get too excited,” Cleo mumbled as they typed something into the monitor; maybe this is why Scar had been dismissed before, acquiring the box meant working with the computers. Teaching him his own name in Human had been hassle enough, Cleo probably didn’t want to continue with any more of that, and Cub would likely rather shoot himself.

Regardless, Scar was still restless, whiskers still twitching, tail still lashing. When Cleo made a snide comment about Scar getting all worked up, he snapped back, “It’s hard not to be when you guys have both been so secretive.”

Cub snorted, “We told you exactly what it was. Each room has a puzzle, you solve the room, get a pendant, stick it in the box, what else is there to know.”

Scar threw up his hands, “But what about the riddles!”

“There are riddles on the box,” Cleo said, bland, “They tell you where to start. It is quite literally that simple.”

“Mumbo says all sorts of things are simple but they’re always more complicated than that, come on, you two have been terrible these last couple days.” Scar crossed his arms, to which Cleo only rolled their eyes.

“In a couple years after you’ve been through the ringer on stupid traps you missed, accidents, annoying puzzles, and all sorts of other bullshit, you can get all pissy with me, but in the meantime, all your impatience accomplishes is providing motivation for me to fuck with you.”

Cub hummed behind them, but Scar wasn’t paying much attention, focused on what Cleo was doing with the screens. Typing something into the search bar; ‘C-A-T-S S-M-E-L-L,’ erased after Cub chuckled, ‘S-H-I-T-T-Y P-A-W-S,’ erased, then, ‘Z-O-O-M-I-E-S T-I-M-E W-I-T-H S-C-A-R.’

“Why’re you searching my name?”

“Oh hey, he is paying attention,” Cleo smirked, to which Scar straightened suspiciously, and Cub breathed a soft chuckle.

“He’d make a good iPad kid.”

“Hey.” Scar growled, “What does that mean. You’re not allowed to call me names I don’t-” and then Scar turned around, and Cub was holding a box, a little wooden thing, it fit comfortably in his two hands, his fingers almost wrapping completely around the length of two sides. There were indents on the faces, each side a different color, and Scar could see the inscriptions that had to be the riddles, “-HEY!”

“Take a look,” Cub shrugged, tossing it, and Scar snatched it out of the air, holding tight with all four paws.

“Please don’t break the very important escape room box.” Cleo was deftly ignored, as Scar was swiftly remembering that he could not read.

“What does it say?” Scar shoved the box back in Cub’s face, who continued to stare at him blankly before seeming to think better of defying Scar, adjusting his glasses to read.

“Soldier boys line up to fall, seek illusions reflected off the stars.” Cub turned the box back around for Scar to see, as if having the line read aloud would magically transform the words into something readable. “This feels pointed.”

Cleo snorted, “Not every riddle is pointed, Cub.”

“A lot of them are.”

“A few.”

“They don’t like me, Cleo.”

She laughed, “Yeah! They don’t like me, either!”

Scar cleared his throat, interrupting, “This one’s for the safe room-control room hall. The mirror, right?” Cleo and Cub looked up, stares equally blank. “The mirror?” Scar tried, “With the winged humans? They’re kinda falling, aren’t they? They’re going down, not up.”

“Uh,” Cleo tried, her hesitation rejection enough to make Scar nervous, “I mean, maybe. I don’t remember. We can check, but let’s go through the rest, first. I’ll make a note.” They did so, scribbling something in their notebook, but Scar couldn’t help feeling a little dejected regardless. “Read the next one, Cub.

Cub did as he was told, flipping from the green side to the magenta face. “Judgment crash down upon unworthy souls, snarling at the gates, deny, deny.” Cub pursed his lips, “That is pointed.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty explicit.”

“Well that’s the Scar- My room. I don’t know what to call it. The Scar room. Right?” Scar’s fur started to prickle when Cub and Cleo Looked at him again- What was he doing wrong? “The statues! You guys have seen the statues in there, up on those tall shelves, right? I always feel like they’re judging me..”

After a moment, Cub shrugged. “I agree. They are judgemental. The ‘gate’ thing might be an allusion to heaven or whatever, up high, yeesh. The angels on the last riddle might fit with a theme, also.”

“How do you guys remember this shit? Those statues are in the corner of the room, I wouldn’t have remembered if you didn’t bring it up.”

“They’re judgemental, Cleo.”

“I got that, thanks.”

“Okay, well the next one,” Cub turned the box to the cyan side, “How to step in another person’s shoes? Take a look through a different point of view.”

“What do you think of that? Pointed?” Cleo teased, but Cub nodded sharply.

“I’m sure wherever we’ll be ‘looking’ will be plenty pointed. What do you think, Cleo? Up to the pearly gates where we’ll never be allowed to go, or down into the fiery pits of hell? Does Scar know where we’re going yet? I think I know.”

“I- I mean there were sunglasses in a drawer in the control room-Scar room hallway. It’s pretty outdated technology, even for the sun..”

“No one wears those anymore,” Cub agreed sagely, and Cleo laughed, shaking their head.

“I can’t believe this, how are you so fast at these, Scar? Were you just studying the rooms all this time? Usually we get one or two off the bat and then we’re wandering aimlessly until we stumble into the rest of the answers.”

Abashed, Scar shrugged, a paw sliding unconsciously behind his ear, “I mean, you don’t have people back home that talk like that?”

“Nope. Assuming you do?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s everywhere. And they reference little things too, and if you don’t get what they’re referring to.. prone to offense is what I’ll say, but honestly, I just happen to know a couple.. unhappy.. sphinxes. Stereotypically they’re uppity but I think the guys I know may take that to an extreme..”

“Saw that,” Cleo snorted, though not without a little awkwardness, which made Scar deflate slightly. He didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable. Now that Scar was paying attention, Cub looked a bit awkward himself, glancing away, shifting his weight almost like he thought something was going to jump out at him. Scar didn’t want to leave the conversation like this, dangling over his miserable call back home; maybe he could change the subject?

“Why do you wear glasses? They’ve got lenses, I checked.”

“Some people just wear glasses, Scar,” Cleo bordered on aggressive with her assertion and Scar backed down, ear drooping, but he was deeply relieved when Cub laughed.

“Did you put them on while I was sleeping? I bet that did a number on your eyes.”

“Well yeah! Enough to tell they’re prescription!” With some apprehension, Scar perked up, but Cleo said nothing else, only looking wary.

“Uh huh. That’d be because I’m blind without them. Literally. Legally, and by most peoples’ definition.” Cub took off his glasses, batting Scar away when he started to sniff at his eyes, “I just see a little pinprick of you,” Cub attempted to tap Scar’s nose with a finger for emphasis, but missed. “Woof. My depth perception has seen better days.” Cub instead planted his entire hand in Scar’s face, eliciting a startled yelp as Scar winced back. “Gotcha. Anyway, usually you super die of sculk sickness before you go blind, but hey, the sculk’s got a friend in me, right?”

Cub returned his glasses to his face, shrugging, “What’s more expensive? Changing your escape room for blindness accessibility, but not using braille, I don’t speak it- you know what I mean. Second option, correct my eyes with surgery, which may or may not be successful, who knows with the sculk. Or glasses? Glasses are cheaper. They don’t entirely fix the problem but hey, all he needs to do is see and read.” Something about Cub’s demeanor shifted, his light hearted tone gaining a dark edge that set the fur at Scar’s neck on end. “Pump him full of weed killer and it won’t get any worse, right? No thought to what I want to do, no, no, I would have been fine, they- they think they know better than me-“

“Cub. You’re fine. You’re okay.” Cleo reached for Cub’s hand while Scar took a step back, frightened that he’d set something off just by asking- just seconds ago he’d been fine!

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Cleo, I don’t know. I wasn’t- This wasn’t supposed to stop yet, I wasn’t done,” Cub took off his glasses and Cleo snatched them from his hands, shoving them just as briskly into Scar’s paws without explanation, though, Scar could guess it would be very bad for the loop if Cub broke his glasses. “Cleo, I wasn’t supposed to see.”

“I know, Cub, I know, let’s sit down, alright?”

“It’s too bright.”

“I’ll take you to the safe room, I’ll turn off the lights.”

“I can’t see.”

“I’ve got you.” And Cleo did, taking Cub’s arms, so gentle, and Scar wanted to help, he didn’t understand, but he was scared, and he did not move.

“I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you.” Cleo looked back at Scar then, she mouthed something, but Scar didn’t speak Human, he didn’t have a single clue what she meant to communicate. He hoped he was doing the right thing by staying. Cleo didn’t turn around again, so. Nothing else to do.

It wasn’t long before Cleo returned, Scar sitting on the floor by the two other seats while he waited, staring down at Cub’s glasses in his lap and wondering what he’d done wrong. Gently, she took them from him.

“Sorry about that, Scar. I don’t.. I mean, I don’t really know what to say. Sometimes he gets.. caught up. He’ll be alright though; give him an hour with every blanket in the complex and the lights off and he’ll calm right down.”

Scar pursed his lips, unable to face her. “Did I do something?”

“Oh.. I mean, technically yes, but nothing you could have known better.” Cleo sat down beside Scar on the floor, “He’s been through something really traumatic, I think. The transition from wrecking environmental havoc on the Midwest to jail cell was particularly difficult. He’s always got that sort of calm exterior, right? He wasn’t very concerned about being caught or questioned, but whatever happened to him with the sculk, it really got in his head- whether that’s literal or metaphorical, I genuinely don’t know. I’d bet a bit of both, honestly, but that facade or.. whatever it was.. kinda fell apart when they started killing the sculk in him. Psych ward level breakdowns, he was seriously messed up, and it was only a few weeks later we were introduced. He was holding himself together somewhat fine, but put him in a doctor’s office.. any doctor; general health, specialists, optometrists- for god’s sake, if he knew you had so much as a PhD he would flip his shit, and he still does, he hates doctors. Sometimes he raves about it in a funny way, and other times.. that happens. He’s particularly sensitive about things relating to his symptoms, his eyes for example. He can be sensitive about his skin, too, he covers up like he does for a reason, sleeps in the dumb lab coat, you know.”

“Oh.. I wish I’d known..”

Cleo shrugged, awkward, “Sorry.. This kind of stuff doesn’t come up frequently, and he’s usually well tempered about it. There are some circumstances where he's fine talking about this stuff; sometimes he brings it up himself, but usually I would avoid topics like specific health issues; eyes, skin, any of his meds, doctors in general. He’s anxious enough about all the appointments he’s going to be forced through when we’re back home.”

Scar huffed a short breath, “Damn glad I didn’t grow up on your planet. Criminals or not, everything I’ve heard just feels cruel. Do you have no rights? No choice of anything? This whole ship! This is terrible!”

“Oh, well, in theory we’ve got rights. Half of them get thrown out the window once you’re given a prison sentence though. You have a lot more freedom with prisoners, whether they’re innocent or guilty of the crimes that landed them there. You can justify a lot of shit. Incarceration is a business and we’re just lab rats I’m afraid. We’re here to be used or studied, and even in Cub's case, where it’s entirely unclear what happened to him, it doesn’t really matter. Whether he was a puppet to an alien parasite or did this all of his own free will.. he’s still here. For the record, I do not think the answer is as simple as Cub being straight up possessed, sculk sickness does not escalate like that and Cub should have known he was sick, he should have gotten help- but that’s neither here nor there. Whatever the case, that illness left him significantly impaired, and the way he’s been mistreated afterwards has only made the whole thing more of a shitshow. I mean, come on, he’s far from perfect now, but this is leaps and bounds better than day one, and if he’d gotten proper care and treatment the second he was apprehended, maybe he wouldn’t be so fucked up.” Cleo threw up their arms in a great exasperation, “But what do I know.”

“Oh. Guess that makes sense.” Scar fiddled with his hands, looking down. Most things he heard about Cub confused him, the sculk especially he did not like. The idea something like that could ‘possess’ you at all was frightening, even if Cleo didn’t believe that’s what happened. Scar’s ear turned downward in his thought, brow furrowing. “What do you think happened?”

Cleo shrugged. “You mean how it started? I haven’t got a single clue. Like I said before, Cub has a different story every time, and 80% of those excuses aren’t even feasible.”

“But what about after? Do you think he wanted to do all that? Spread it around?”

Cleo was quiet for a moment, and they closed their eyes, shaking their head. “Who knows. Could’ve, but he has no motive besides Thinking It’s Neat, which isn’t really anything to go off of. I sure think Present Cub believes he wanted to commit all that damage, he says he’d do it again in a heartbeat, but he says just as much he’s tired of being eaten alive, so do with that what you will. Honestly, I think he hates it, sculk. How could he not? It’s sufficiently ruined his life, even if he did set out to infect half of his own country with it intentionally. But I don’t think he knows he hates it. I don’t think he’d ever be able to let himself know it, because then he’s trapped, and you got a taste of what Cub does when he feels backed into a corner.”

Scar grimaced, but took a breath to let the discomfort pass. “Do you guys talk about this stuff a lot? Cub’s only really brought up the sculk to me once, just the other night. He wanted to know if he’d gotten me sick after I ate him.”

“Oh, right,” Cleo looked amused, “Did he?”

“Well he sure thinks so, but I don’t.”

“Right. Well to answer your question, no, not anymore. But we used to, god did we used to. It was around half a human year where all the walls came down and we just talked and talked and talked.. Everything. Secrets I’ve never shared with anyone, shared like it’s a regular Tuesday afternoon. He had so much to say about sculk, so much, a lot of it repetitive and most of it pretty incoherent, but he talked about it regularly for almost a year before tapering off. I think he was trying to figure it out for himself. Thinking out loud. It was damn interesting to listen to, though with how inconsistent and straight up contradictory 90% of what came out of his mouth was, I bet the assholes eavesdropping through the cameras were slamming their heads against their desks trying to figure out what the hell happened. I hope so.”

But Scar’s ear pinned, whirling around in his search for cameras, “I- They can listen?”

Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? I mean, not 24/7, but with you here I bet someone’s almost always checked in; not every day we get to learn a thing or two about the catfolk all those light years away.”

“This- I gotta get out of here.”

Cleo laughed, “You get used to it. I wouldn’t worry too much, your planet isn’t in any sort of danger.”

“I.. I really don’t like that.”

“Well, nothing you can do. Best to forget about all the ways your privacy is being violated because it will never end. Only one camera in the safe room, though, and if you talk quiet they can’t really hear you.”

“This sucks.”

“Yup! Welcome to prison life on planet Earth! Plenty more horrors await you, though luckily, this is pretty much as bad as it gets. Oh, joy!”

Scar huffed a laugh despite the lack of humor; nothing funny about it, really, but what else could you do? Any objections weren’t going to make him any less stuck. Did the folks at home know about this? Scar wondered if they objected or if anything could be done. A pang of longing dragged his shoulders into a hunch. How long had it been since that last call? A month at least, maybe more.. Scar struggled to keep track outside of human units. Would they still be angry? Bitter? A surge of homesickness almost pulled him straight to the monitors, and very clearly he could imagine himself at the keys, clicking in his name, struggling to remember the steps to call home. Anxiety overcame him in the end. He said nothing. Maybe Cleo knew, but she didn’t say anything either.