#prison break? maybe so

[goldeneyedgirl]

Late V-Day Space-verse Fic: Better Than Nothing

Six days late, but it's done!

A little Unimaginable Things-verse fic, because I love me some space drama.

Holidays are a quiet thing on the Olympia.

There is Carlisle, who is so augmented and been away from Earth for so long that his classification of ‘human’ feels very much like a technicality. Once, in another life, there were a pair of children whose birthdays were celebrated with much fanfare. But those times had passed.

Edward staunchly refused to celebrate anything, arguing that he is not a person but simply a program. Carlisle still makes sure to buy him huge quantities of music and software around the end of June, without comment.

Rose had little use for the traditional holidays of her people, only bringing them up to ridicule them. Whatever she celebrates, none of them know of it. Emmett celebrates with his family, carefully logging leave three times a year. And Esme’s ceremonies are solemn, uplifting, and intensely private moments.

And few other cultures have holidays like Earth - casual ones propped up with commercialism and novelty. More than once, he’s tried to explain them to his friends, Esme curious but bewildered, Rosalie quietly superior, and Carlisle chuckling in memory.

Alice had been intrigued, never knowing Earth or the little cultural touchstones. Maybe he liked the opportunity to get a little bit closer, explaining those missing common links carefully and greedily soaking in her presence.

But of all the things that left a mark on them, a scar that would never heal clean, neither of them would have ever imagined it would be something as harmless and cliche as February 14.

—

before.

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have been stranded in Cesset - the capital city of a planet called L’im - for a week straight. It’s a huge, sprawling city divided into sectors; more than half forbidden to tourists, travelers, or anyone without citizenship.

The rain comes down in bright sheets, and she settles in the doorway of a pick-up bay for the night; the last job she took turned into a scuffle and her lens is offline until her appointment with the technician in two days, once the bruising around her eyes heals more. Which means she might have money but no way to use it.

The stoop of the building keeps her out of the rain, and the night is still. She might even be able to snatch some sleep.

She rifles through her pack for something to eat - some half-finished cereal or a protein drink. There’s not much in there - food is so heavy to transport, and street vendors are always better than long-life snacks. But they are handy and the three bars, two gels, and one water will have to see her through.

(Does she think about going to the nearest comms center and getting Carlisle to wire cash onto a card for her, so she can get out of the rain and buy some food, get a bunk to sleep in? The gels are a slimy mass in her mouth as she takes a drag from the sachet, a gooey lump that is hard to swallow and artificially sweet, leaving a film in her mouth. She dismisses the thought of asking Carlisle for help quickly. She’s caused enough trouble. It's only two days. She’s lived through worse.)

Absently, she slides her hand into the back of the pack, searching for her slate. Old-fashioned, cheap, and well-loved, it was the first frivolous thing she’d ever bought herself, loaded with hundreds of books. It might have gotten her enough for a hot meal if she sold it (not a good meal, just one of the oily soups with a few tough cubes of meat that the city favored and sold at every store), but the sentimental part of her couldn’t part with it.

As she pulls it out, she freezes, seeing what is slipped into the front of the cracked cover.

It was an odd thing for her to bring with her, after everything. She doesn’t know why she slipped it into her pack instead of into storage. Maybe to remind her of better times. Or maybe that once, just for a little while, she was loved.

Paper is expensive and hard to come by - most planets use fabric or digital surfaces for art and letters. The planets that do use paper reserve it for books, mostly. It’s not easy to acquire privately. The old newspapers that Carlisle had bundled in storage should have been handed over for some credits but instead, Jasper had cut out squares, had folded them precisely into triangular shapes that had glided when he tossed them out. And she had laughed out loud, delighted as the little creations caught onto the draft leaking in from the departure bay. He had folded two whole sheets of newsprint for her in dozens of paper airplanes of all sizes; had shown her how to fold her own. Something all children on Earth knew how to do, apparently.

(The lie falls easily from her lips - “I was born off-world. I’ve never been to Earth.” But it’s not really a lie. Except she knows he’s picturing a story like his - adventurous parents, a tragedy - so it really is the worst kind of lie.)

All eight of the airplanes are folded flat in one of her boxes. They would be mistaken for trash now, she supposes.

What she kept is small, it fits in the palm of her hand. Rough pink speckled paper - probably bought from an artisan, because it’s too nice to be something that was just found - cut in the shape of a wonky heart. ‘Love you - J’ written on it in red ink.

For a little while, she was loved. That’s why she keeps it. No matter what happens next, she can remind herself that he loved her once. That he cared enough to make her smile.

Carlisle warned her when he arrived. Who he was. What had happened to him. And she thought...

She thought that it was romantic, a forbidden romance that could overcome anything that life threw at them. After all, the Jasper who teased her and bought her drinks and danced with her was sweet, kind, understanding. And Carlisle had smiled at her and let her walk away believing that things would work out and she’d get her happily ever after.

The stupid little Valentine he gave her sits in her hand mocking her, sitting in an old pick-up bay in the rain. She can feel the rain seeping in at the seams of her coat which is a cherry on top of this terrible day; Pro-tex is expensive and hard to track down on this planet, especially in her size. If the water is getting in, it needs replacing.

But it’s better than nothing.

—

after.

Carlisle talks him through Systemic Failure in the first two weeks, even lends him a few texts to go over.

By the end of the first weeks, he’s having nightmares of all kinds. Of finding her dead and cold back in Viltri, her eyes clouded over and the blood gathered under the tissue around her eyes and nose and mouth. Of waking up in a pool of blood as she silently hemorrhages out beside him, blood seeping through her skin. He dreams of her dead on the ground, her insides hollowed out, his father holding him back from her because it was ‘better her than them’.

“This is the one downside of the design of the Synths,” Carlisle sighed, as he looked over the notes he had downloaded from Alice’s lens. “There was a petition to take the earliest sufferers to Earth, to run genetic panels and see if there was something missing, maybe a transplant or donation that could offset the imbalances...something we could correct. We were denied rather forcefully.”

“A donation?” His mouth is dry as the voice in his head volunteers. Blood, bone, tissue, anything she needed.

“Unfortunately, your system has been compromised simply by leaving Earth. We tried with many local humans in the day, and there was nothing they could do for us.” Carlisle frowned, circling something in Alice’s notes. “None of us could supply the donation, and even then, it would take months and years of experimentation...”

She lies behind them in a capsule, wearing surgical modesty garments, green med-patches keeping her eyes closed. Spidery wires and tubes run from multiple arteries and places. She barely looks to be breathing, even though the readout says she is.

The first surgery was a week into her return, a hotspot on her thigh that Rose picked up with the handheld scanner. A thirteen-hour surgery that ended up with her losing more than sixty percent of the bone in her left thigh. Infected and eating away at the surrounding, healthy bone and getting ready to jump into her tissue and bloodstream. Carlisle had replaced the bone with titanium (he’d physically flinched when he heard that; titanium was one of the most expensive medical implants; almost all human implants were done with cheaper Med-fil and needed replacement every ten years. The idea that Carlisle had fucking titanium for surgery made him feel nervous). But the external support - the augmentation - would be waiting for them with the new supply pick-up.

Carlisle reassures him that everything is fine - more serious than he’s used to, but nothing that they cannot get on top of. They’re running her bloods twice daily, to make sure the infection doesn’t spread, and antibiotics feed constantly into her.

(The cost makes him feel sick. Alice will never get on top of this debt and he cannot even help her until his own debts are paid off. He’s got nothing of value to sell, and he just feels sick at what she’s going to wake up to.)

He leaves Carlisle alone in the med-bay when Esme makes dinner, picking at his food, and staying quiet. He’s still lingering over it when Rose and Emmett have cleaned up the kitchen and left, trying to wrap his head around everything.

The chime of his lens brings him out of his maudlin thoughts (he knows what happens to the people with debt they can’t pay off, that after death their bodies are broken down and sold off to recoup what they never managed to pay off. He’s been at those auctions and the idea of knowing the people behind the pieces on the block makes his stomach churn uncomfortably).

Memories: Six Years Ago Today!

The photo flashing up is of him and Alice together in a bar somewhere, cheek to cheek. Her make-up is all red and pink, with a glittery heart next to her eye. There’s a sticky, pinkish outline on his cheek of a kiss.

There’s a wire flower in her hand, iridescent and shaped like a rose and that’s what places him. Valentine’s Day. They’d gone out, she’d remembered the date, and he’d bought her the rose. They’d eaten and drank and come back to the empty ship - everyone else in the dock dorms - and had a rare night together, completely alone.

If his eyes well up at the sight of her, bright and smiling and so very happy, no one else sees.

He feels like an old man as he shuffles his dishes into the washer, as he slips down to the little room near the airlock that Esme keeps for her plants - the ones associated with her faith are in hand-painted pots and kept high so no one touches them. But there are a cluster that are free to use, and he plucks a spring of a flower, a short brown stem with tiny greyish flowers.

It’s easy enough to offer to watch Alice whilst Carlisle gets coffee and stretches his legs. Rosalie’s shift doesn’t start for three more hours, and Carlisle seems grateful for the respite.

Her pale, lifeless face is unchanged, unaware of anything. And he can see the scar near her eyebrow, the one he can’t think about too hard or he’ll remember the worst parts of himself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Alice.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and he tucks the little stem in between the hinges of the capsule.

There is nothing but shame and regret and grief whenever he’s with her, and bringing such a paltry offering - one no one will ever notice - feels more like an insult.

But it’s better than nothing.

—

Who said V-Day fics had to be happy and romantic? When you can have regret and pining?

Lenses are both an arm and eye implant, and the user can set whether the ‘screen’ appears on their arm or over their vision. When Alice got punched in the face on a job, it definitely fucked up her lens.

Esme’s species is very plant-and-nature focused, and that is evident in their faith. I’m still figuring out her full backstory, because she and Carlisle are very much in love but agreeing its a bad idea and they need to remain friends.

Alice’s slate would essentially be an old Kindle type device without internet access.

I am at a crossroads with where to take this verse. Both versions are valid and good, but have different outcomes. I will continue to contemplate it.

I don't think I've mentioned it in-verse, but Carlisle is not Edward and Edythe's biological father.

I am having a good time with the world-building in this verse.

[noxcheshire]

I kept thinking of little baby man Phantom and the potential of Danny being an actual baby of the Infinite Realms. However, he’s more snake teenager than itty bitty Little Baby Man edition, cause I think it’d be so funny to just — imagine this teenage snake curled up in a summoning circle, obviously having been taking a nap and looking up with his big green, sleepy eyes and Constantine just stares and freaks because, “THATS A WHOLE ASS BABY, PUT IT BACK!”

But they can’t because apparently the summoning was more of a ‘knock knock I’m a babysitter’ and Danny’s ghost parent decided that this was the perfect time to have some time for themselves if Heroes were so willing to take care of Danny for a little while.

Another take — mainly in reference to a different post about Klarion actually just being a toddler of the infinite realms with no ideas on how to human and thinks him fighting with heroes is just a play date — zooms into the human realm where the heroes are and just goes, “Hey I’m dropping my baby sibling onto you guys cause my dad got mad last time Danny got hurt by the humans I hang with. So here you go, I’ll pick him up later.”

A teenage snake Danny is dropped into a hero’s arms where he mainly grumbles and then shifts to better take a nap. Klarion drops the baby essentials at them with no further explanations other then “here’s their favorite blanket, if they get fussy taco them; here’s the baby milk make sure it’s -200 F, they have an ice core, etc.” and then just DISAPPEARS after leaving what amounts to a month old infant in human heroes care.

[iandarling]

I know in most fics Ian and Mickey have passionate reunion sex their first night in prison, and while I 100% believe they would, I wonder if their first night might’ve looked a little different

Watching Ian prepare for prison, learning how to stay safe, where to eat and who to talk to, saying goodbye to his whole family, bracing himself for a new life is stressful

I can only imagine how stressed he would be in this new, dangerous, environment. He is totally alone, the new guy who is publically gay (prisoners have access to the news), and ginger to boot

We know Ian sometimes struggles to sleep, and so I imagine Ian probably struggled to sleep properly through the night leading up to prison - let alone his first night inside

But then Mickey shows up

Mickey is there. And they are cellmates and everything will be alright.

Mickey, who has spent months in Mexico working for a cartel, dealing drugs and overall not making good decisions, does something so brave and romantic as turning himself in, just to keep Ian safe

Mickey must’ve been tired too. He’s been dealing with the feds, travelling from Mexico back to Chicago, getting a good deal, all while not knowing if Ian would even want to see him - or what mental state he is in

They’re tired. They don’t have sex.

Instead, Ian crawls into Mickeys tiny bottom bunk, sleeping next to the wall (Mickey prefers having a clear view of the door), holding each other as tightly as possible.

It should be uncomfortable how tight Ian has his arms wrapped around Mickey, but he doesn’t care. He needs it. Craves it. Loves it.

Sure, Mickey was secretly hoping for a little action, if not full-on banging a handjob would be nice - but he also loves this.

Just them. Close together, breathing each other in as they finally get to lower their guard.

Mickey turned his head slightly to steal a kiss from Ian, but to no avail. Ian is dead to the world, nose pressed deep into the nape of his neck, having spent a good few minutes just smelling his skin. Creep.

Ian finally gets his person back, and Mickey finally feels safe.

The mattress is too thin, there is just one pillow, and the bunk beds are not designed for two fully grown muscular men; but Ian is finally able to sleep trough the whole night not having a single nightmare, and Mickey is able to feel safe for the first time in months

Yeah, they’re in prison and everything gonna suck for a while, but they’re together and that’s all that matters

[originalartblog]

I just think Chuuya deserves to snap for this arc. Crumble under his unaddressed trauma. Be evil for a little while. Make Dazai face some consequences for a change. A little corruption arc, if you will.

[good-beanswrites]

One more scene from Fuuta-Es convos with @waivyjellyfish for now :3 I liked exploring Es' post-canon mindset as an ex-murder investigator... Like my other drabble, I don't have the details worked out but Milgram is over and they're living at the Kajiyamas' now.

What Fuuta didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

It’s what Es told themself as they slipped into his clothes. They’d spotted the outfit at the bottom of Fuuta’s closet a few days ago, then decided to bide their time. With Fuuta and his sister downstairs having breakfast, there was a small window of opportunity now.  

Es stuck their arm through the red-striped sleeve. They still didn’t know what possessed them to put it on. 

Was it the appeal of something familiar? In a world devoid of all memories, they enjoyed the idea of putting on at least one outfit that they’d seen hundreds of times on their little music video screen. Is it possible to be comforted by someone else’s memories?

Was it old habits? They’d spent each trial doing anything and everything to feel closer to the prisoners. To take a peek into their minds. To step into their shoes. This was taking it a bit literally, they knew. Although everything was over and they had no reason to connect so deeply to any of the prisoners, Es couldn’t get away from the duty they’d obsessed over for so long.

Maybe it was just their troublesome curiosity, always driving them forward. There was a small part of them that hungered for more information, no matter the reason. They were perfectly aware that putting on Fuuta’s red and blue tracksuit would probably offer them absolutely nothing new, but they had to try. Something might be revealed to them, and they needed to know. 

Es stood in front of the full length mirror. They turned one way. They turned the other way. They shifted their arms. They cocked their head.

Sure enough, nothing. 

They took note of the little details. It was a little big on them, (though  it wouldn’t take them long to catch up to Fuuta’s size). It was neither fashionable nor tacky. The material wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it felt warm.

But, did it make them feel any closer to Fuuta?

They contemplated a moment, thinking of all that he may have done in the outfit. There were so many classes these pants had walked to, so many arcade coins that these pockets had held. Es wondered if his friends ever nudged the shoulders of the jacket playfully. Maybe they weren’t the type. It had probably seen it’s share of all nighters. And also lazy days spent in bed, or sick days laid up on the couch.

They puffed their chest out, thinking of the confidence Fuuta may have had wearing this. They pulled the hood over their hair. It had likely seen just as much as his hesitance. How many times had he sunk into the thick material for an escape? Or was there an opposite effect – did he feel so comfortable in this that he could commit murder?

Es stared at themself.

There came some shuffling out in the hall. Before Es could move, Fuuta was shouting to his sister and bursting into the room.

“Will you get out of my fucking hair if I bring it to you right –” he froze. “Now...”

Es, too, was frozen in place, their eyes wide. 

“I-I’m sorry.” They started unzipping the jacket. “I saw it and… I didn’t mean to –”

“ – It’s fine,” Fuuta muttered. He waved his hand dismissively. He started shuffling things around in his desk drawer, angling his head down, out of sight. His voice was strained, though it wasn’t as angry as Es had been expecting. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna wear it again.”

Es carefully folded the jacket over their arm. “I wasn’t trying to bring up the past. I was just…” What had they been doing? 

“I said it’s fine.” 

“I know it’s not.”

“You don’t know anything. Wear it every day for all I care. I was just gonna toss it.”

“You still can. Or, I can.”

“Nah.” Fuuta retrieved what he was looking for. He paused in the doorway, taking one last look over his shoulder. “Looks better on you, anyway.”

Es straightened in surprise as he left. They took another look in the mirror. They allowed themself a small smile. They might have undersold how comfortable it was.

Now that they were thinking of it, they did look pretty cool… Maybe that was all there was to it.

[gjsxj0]

mindless rambling in tags don't mind me

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[bonefall]

This might be too much, but maybe you can kind of use both Mouse and Ash, by really amping up the idea there's some behind the scene meddling. Like Mouse was supposed to be the OG lawyer, but is being mysteriously held up by something (clues hinting at some characters Ashfur works with later during the next arc)

Obviously a lot of the tension is genuine, but there could be some very bad faith players deliberately trying to increase animosity since the stakes are pretty high (Especially for thistle law leaning characters who don't want Squirrel to win)

So just a few weird mishaps that get overlooked in the chaos of the trial, only being brought to light when the imposter arc happens, being kind of a stealth set up that things are about to go very, very wrong

Too little is far, far worse than too much imo. I'm a whole-pussy kind of writer. I spell suBtlety with a capital B.

I'm leaning very strongly towards Mousefur being Ashfur's first victim, done in a fit of entitled anger because he wanted to take over the trial. But I think your suggestion of mishaps should be important too, that's a very good detail

Thoughts...

The trial was paused through some accident of one of Ashfur's cohorts. Someone broke something or called for a break.

The last person to see Mousefur was a Traditionalist, leaning on the harder side.

Mouse either goes missing just before Leafpool's Trial, or midway through.

It is NOT known that Ashfur has this terrifying ability yet, though. His cohorts simply think that Mousefur is having a hard time getting back to StarClan, not knowing that Ashfur has been messing around with the boundaries between realms too.

[cuteniarose]

Personally I find it really funny that based on what the twins said in the Book 2 finale re: having to tell their mom about what happened to Unalaq, it's literally canon that Unalaq's wife a) exists, b) is alive, and c) is just chilling in the Northern Water Tribe

She took one look at all the spirit fuckery her husband was getting up to and went "Well that's none of my business" and honestly I respect that

[bumblevoid]

a wild mags!

yes hi this is my design for mags. specifically for my au

for sparkbird's circle maker contest! i don't think that's on tumblr at all but im proud of this piece which is rare

w/o the lyric version:

tried a lot of new things on this! i can remember exactly one other time ive actually drawn a face in 3/4 view and it was awful (but also middle school art class sO). also new style of digital shading,, usually only throw an actual noticeable light source drawing traditionally and not characters for some reason?? idk

[fluffypotatey]

Season 3 had a moment of weakness and then they kept fighting. Season 4 had moments of weakness and they they kept bickering, and as season 5 showed the beach hangout was a one off. They keep having moment of weaknesses and then going back to fighting. Im so happy, it's perfect. God bless the world being in the brink of destruction several times, if not these asses would never get their shit together for a second

it is, how you say…chef’s kiss

they are not allowed to be normal or get together properly. MORE OF THEM BEING THE WORST TO EACH OTHER PLEASE!!!! I BELIEVE IN TOXIC SHADOWPEACH SUPREMACY 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

[tathrin]

Okay but who is going to write the Ultimate Mutual Hurt/Comfort LotR AU where it is Legolas and Gimli who get captured together and taken to Isengard? And no doubt spend the whole time doing the “no, torture me instead!” thing, poorly disguising their concern through “well my people are heartier than yours, I just didn’t want your frail elvish/dwarvish self to get hurt” banter that inevitably breaks-down into “I was afraid you were dead/dying” love confessions and...

[appleebees]

I like how committed the dragon age franchise is to a) haunted houses and b) jailbreak quests. Idc what else veilguard has, if it's missing those I'm rioting

[zularchive]

Don't call me daughter

[quillkiller]

how are there six seasons of lost

[good-beanswrites]

LCSYS ask again(undercover asker here hiiiiiaufhghghgn)thank you for responding!!!! ilovfe seeing your ideas theyre such good fuel in between trials❤️❤️

i was wondering how th prisoners would react to es’ usage of violence, like some of the younger prisoners complaining about it while the older are concerned because Hello Where did that stem from???? you cant tell me es’ “phew, i feel so much better” after hitting shidou didn’t send his mind racing a million miles per minute

ALSO curious about YONAH………… similar to how red’s violence towards es was scripted, was kotoko’s monologue about es being imperfect Also scripted, or was it on her own? yonah is probably my favourite voice drama of all time and I’m curious about how it would be interpreted in this au 🫶

Ah hello again! Thank you so much for reaching out -- every time I think I've covered everything you guys hit me with a new insane detail that makes my brain go brrrrr >:3

Because OMG I spent so much time thinking of the faked violence, I don't know why I never put as much attention on the flipside! I love the idea of Jackalope assuring them, "there will be no physical punishments. We'll talk about restraints but that's all fake. We'll make up injuries between trials but that's all fake. You don't have to worry about any real pain." And then this 15yo strolls up, interrogation one, ready to smack someone😅😅😅

Seriously though, I think it would come as a pretty big surprise to the group. They knew it was a possibility, but didn't think Es was that likely to attack, since they've made a few comments about being against violent punishments. Haruka comes back to mention the slap, and Yuno follows their instructions and says she also suffered violence, and the group is Shocked. I think it would just kill Fuuta that he wasn't allowed to hit back and avenge the others. He probably has the most complaints about the situation (and is insanely relieved that he get by in his own interrogation.) In a feeble attempt to get back at Es and make them feel bad, he encourages Muu to cry and make a big show about being afraid of them. Muu is frightened enough that it doesn't take much persuasion... I think Kotoko and unfortunately Amane wouldn't mind the threat, they both have lives in which authority showing power isn't out of place (and maybe Haruka?). Mahiru, too, thinks it's just the way a prison guard can run their prison if they want, though she's determined her charm will keep things running pleasantly.

Kazui reaches out asap* to question the legality of the experiment, since they're allowing children to get hit, even if by other children. There's a tangle of signatures and consent from everyone involved so it's okay, but the whole thing still rubs him the wrong way. He knew the experiment was a bit shady, but he(Though, this does make his first vd kind of funny -- instead of actually talking through his theories on the prison, now it feels like he's just egging Es on to see if they'll actually hit him...)

And I really like that idea that Shidou's dad instincts kick in (or maybe it's doctor instincts)! He'd understand if it was a child trying to play the role of an intimidating adult, but the way Es is doing things, the things they're saying, it all points to something deeper going on in Es' head. I can see him sitting down with the others and Jackalope to discuss. Of course Milgram gives him very little to work with, but this still kickstarts everyone's efforts to make sure Es is also taken care of post-Milgram.

*I just realized I'm still a bit fuzzy on communication during the trials. Jackalope can definitely get information to the prisoners (most commonly the 'voices' they're supposed to be hearing based on Es' notes, but also in case of emergency changes or things). I was picturing the prisoners unable to communicate outward until the trial ends, as it builds up the feeling of isolation and imprisonment. The issue is, I feel like Jackalope would want to keep that line open in case the prisoners had questions/issues with the experiment that affected their acting. So idk if the prisoners voice these concerns about Es mid-trial or they're forced to wait. I'll get back to you on that, hm

And Yonah!!

I wasn't avoiding spoilers, I actively looked for snippets here and there, but it was this ask that finally motivated me to sit down and watch it through -- and I'm SO GLAD I DID 👀 It's really well-written and wonderfully acted!! I'm floored with the whole thing omg

I really like the idea that the Milgram team instructed Kotoko to mention Es' imperfection to rattle them a bit, but left the specifics to her. Jackalope thought she'd just make some quick comment, and does a double take when he listens in on the interrogation and realizes she has a lot to say on Es and the way Milgram is run.

Jacklope told her to be harsh with Es, and she thought that was no problem at all. She felt those opinions strongly and wasn't going to go easy on the criticism just because they were a kid. She goes into the interrogation ready to stay completely put-together... and then surprises everyone and herself when Es' distress moves her to pull them into a tight hug and tell them everything's going to be alright ;---;