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[never_francesca]

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[never_francesca]

[At home - well, at least she's a little bit past the reality/unreality bit.]

They were. Some lived. Some didn't.

[cactusy]

[Wordlessly, Shaw reaches across the table to clink her glass against Franky's - a toast to the absent and the lost.]

[never_francesca]

[She nods in acknowledgement, draining her last with a satisfied sound.]

Right. That's me seen to.

[She pushes to her feet, giving Shaw a nod.]

I know you've been through the ringer since coming here, and God knows how many before that. But I meant what I said. Headshrinkers are all well and good, but you don't have to suffer. Certainly not alone.

Look me up when you need someone on your wing.

[cactusy]

I was gonna invite you to eat.

[Shaw says, looking woozily at the refrigerator and the leftovers within. Still, she won't stop Franky from leaving.]

It's practicality, the headshrinking stuff. Making sure I'm not gonna lose it on anybody.

[Practicality is the easy bit to sort out.]

[never_francesca]

[Which brings a pause. It's either a formality or exactly that sort of trust. She nods again.]

Probably good to have something to soak up the booze.

And good on you, not going spare. Working on it. It's hard sometimes.

[cactusy]

I'm better at that than the whole--

[She flutters a hand vaguely in the air.]

"You don't have to be alone" thing. Never really knew what to do with it.

[Even now, when she has her team at home: people who she trusts, likes, and wants to be with.]

Food's in the fridge; you wanna...?

[She's had a bit more than Franky, and has a feeling she'll be a bit wobbly if she tries to stand up.]

Hope you like pasta.

[never_francesca]

[She nods, moving towards what this counts as a kitchen.]

Amazed it's so common in the future. It was still rare Italian food, back home.

[cactusy]

It's all over the place now. So's, uh-- Chinese, thai. Indian. Bubble tea.

[Not that she can get any of that stuff here, at least not on demand.]

[never_francesca]

[She reads the instructions on the packet, and after a false start or two, figures out how a microwave works.]

Bloody miracle, really. Certainly beats beans on toast. When I'm from, if one wanted a decent curry, they had to fly to Calcutta.

[cactusy]

Where in England are you from?

[never_francesca]

[She smiles a bit.]

Dad was...oh, pure country gentry. Mom though? London through and through. So I'm a bit of a mutt, really.

[Another black mark she'd had to step over.]

[cactusy]

Mm, yeah. Me, too. My dad was American. My mom was from Iran. Made growing up in the Middle East and America kind of awkward sometimes.

[never_francesca]

[She nods, turning her attention back to the now-dinging microwave. She moves to extract the food.]

A foot in two worlds, but a seat in neither. Heard that one before. Definitely couldn't have been easy. For me it was the class divide between my parents. A love-match despised by the rest of my family - and you know England. Never met class snobbery it didn't love.

[cactusy]

Sounds like they made it work, though. Congrats to them.

[With some effort - she's both exhausted and more than a bit tipsy - Shaw hauls her self up from her chair, because she can at least help portion the food out onto plates.]

[never_francesca]

[There is a slight smirk at that.]

Let's just say that a stubborn streak runs in the family.