I'm a very private person, [ Harold says simply, his stock answer to when this inevitably comes up. He's always been this way, by nature and by necessity, and knowing Shadowheart is a friend of John's doesn't really change that.
It does earn her a clarification, however. ]
For what it's worth, he hasn't shared much with me about you, either. Not beyond basic facts. We don't share information with one another about personal acquaintances.
[ He means in contrast to information-sharing for other reasons, in which case all bets are off. But the second it becomes personal... they're professional intelligence agents, not gossips. Harold has always found that aspect of the job easy for him to fall into, the separation between the mission and a personal life. ]
If you're as much the inquisitive sort as you seem, what he's shared and what you know might be two very different things.
[Had she an understanding of how the network functions, Shadowheart might go prying in other people's affairs; she wouldn't be surprised if Harold's done the same. And she meant it when she called it admirable. She likes someone who knows how to collect information on others and isn't afraid to do so.
She doesn't, however, love the idea of someone poking around in her own life and relationships.]
So tell me, what is it John's said about me? And what else have you managed to glean?
[With a soft whine, Scratch returns to her and sniffs at the beads she was working with. She absently scratches behind his ears as she waits for Harold's response.]
[ Considering Shadowheart is one of the few people he'd managed to salvage a personnel file on, he's going to need to either evade or outright lie. Fortunately, Harold is good at being evasive -- he has a considerable amount of practice at it. ]
John said you're a skilled healer and a friend, [ he answers, raising his eyebrows in genuine interest and hoping to be a bit disarming, at least enough to get away from the subject of what else he's learned. ] Something about making pie? You're probably better at it than me already -- I'm entirely dependent on John for cooking.
[ Only a slight exaggeration. Harold can put a sandwich together or make pasta, but it's true he thinks Shadowheart is probably already better than him. The personal admission might help guide the conversation in a new direction. ]
True enough. That I'm a healer and John's friend, anyway. I can't say anything one way or the other about my cooking skills.
[She's bad at it. She's very, very bad at it.]
But since I'm John's friend, and you and he are together... [She's assuming.] We ought to be completely honest with each other, don't you think? I'm also a very private person, and I like to know what people know about me.
[She can't help the calculation she makes, purely automatically, that Harold would be a useful ally, that she should get him on her side. The thought that she genuinely likes and cares about John, and should therefore make friends with his partner, comes second, like an atrophied muscle struggling to catch up. She should work that muscle more, she thinks. She wants to; it's nice having a friend, after all, and wouldn't it be nice to have more? But Harold's only answered one of her two questions, and she's no better at pointing that out tactfully than she is at cooking.]
[ That puts him in an extremely difficult position. Harold does want to be on her good side, for John's sake if nothing else -- alright; for the practicality of wanting a healer who would do him a favor, too -- but he isn't in the habit of revealing the depths of his knowledge to anyone. For his part, he's used to having friends and calculating their potential utility simultaneously. ]
More than you'd like me to, I'm sure, [ he says in a tone of confession. He hopes this admission will be enough to satisfy her. ] ... Forgive me, did you say that we're together?
[ This is not a ploy this time; he's frowning vaguely, puzzled, uncertain. Together in that context is usually used romantically. Harold would gloss past it like he usually does, except this is a friend of John's. ]
What makes you think that? Did John say something?
[That doesn't set her mind at ease. The opposite, in fact; Shadowheart doesn't like the idea of anybody knowing more about her than she'd like. Especially since she knows so much less about herself than she'd like.
But she finds herself distracted by his seeming confusion.]
Aren't you? He speaks so frequently of you, and with enough fondness that I thought... Well. You said yourself, employer and employee is no longer the nature of your relationship.
[ Harold falters, suddenly floundering with how to explain what is the nature of their relationship. Normally he isn't trying to be honest about it, but Shadowheart is already suspicious of him and he doesn't think his usual blithe avoidance would work here, not without damaging things perhaps irreparably.
Having actual friends is so difficult. ]
We've committed to staying with one another, here in Etraya, [ Harold says slowly, because that is factual. He can't very well say, he died for me -- he said if he could only save one life, that mine was the right life -- and he can't say either, we found something together that we didn't expect, something more than the mission.
Awkwardly, with too-precise words: ] If he wishes for anything past that, he hasn't indicated it to me.
[She watches Harold flounder curiously. 'Committed to staying with one another' is not a turn of phrase that convinces her there's nothing romantic in that relationship.]
Vague. But not to worry, I've little interest in turning over your relationship like a rock to see all the bugs squirming underneath.
[And she doesn't want to go prying where she isn't wanted and upset John. She can respect a person's secrets. When they're a friend, anyway.]
What I am interested in is whatever information you've learned about me. [She's not letting it go until she knows what he knows.]
[ That's savvy but also a real kindness, and Harold recognizes it as such. No wonder John likes her. She has the same sort of sharp compassion that he does, where they see the places they could crack someone open and instead hold themselves back.
It makes Harold inclined to tell her the truth now. She's earned it from that moment of mercy in not digging into Harold and John's personal relationship when he was so clearly flustered by it. On top of which, it's not really dangerous information any longer; extending this small measure of trust will be better than solidifying himself as intractable. Harold likes to be mysterious, but he doesn't enjoy acting as a potential threat. He's done it a few times and it chafes like a polyester jacket every time. ]
There used to be personnel files available in the sub-basement levels of the hospital, [ he informs her, making that decision lightning-fast and, once made, speaking plainly. He'd vastly prefer to talk about this in any case. ] I was able to make copies of some of them before they were removed. Yours was one.
They aren't detailed, but they can be informative.
[ They're woefully inadequate compared to Harold's usual standards of looking up every minute detail of someone's life with about an hour of research and some judiciously applied hacking, but they are something more than the nothing he otherwise has available here. ]
[The change in his demeanour is noticeable, as is the quickness with which he opts to inform her of these files. So he's quick-thinking, decisive, and someone who likes to keep the personal private. All traits Shadowheart can respect.
What he says instantly catches her attention, thoroughly diverting it from any thoughts on Harold or his relationship to John.]
Files? Tell me, what do they say? Or better yet, show me.
[She can't exactly hide how eager she is to see whatever's in this file he's got. Eager and, perhaps, more than a little trepidatious.
She has precious few memories of her past. She doesn't even know her real name. But Aurora must know; she's tormented Shadowheart with pictures of people and places Shadowheart can't recall, memories that have been taken from her. If this file belonged to Aurora, it must have something in it that can shed light on Shadowheart's stolen past. Though, as badly as Shadowheart wants to know more about herself, she knows her past contains horrors that she's not sure she's entirely ready to face.]
[ Well. He has read her file, so he can imagine why she wants to know. Harold's not going to play difficult with something like that -- it's her own life and she has a right to it.
He lifts a hand to briefly touch his Etraya-supplied earpiece, and he enters commands through the eye motion tracker, gaze flicking back and forth in quick motions. He still prefers a physical keyboard, but he's reluctant to tamper with the earpiece too much and doesn't like lugging around a full wireless keyboard. And he's not about to show Shadowheart his second, secret communications device after this exchange.
Shadowheart will receive a document from username finch. ]
I've sent you what I have. ... I should warn you, I find it both woefully incomplete and frightfully personal.
[ Not at all the kind of dossier Harold would have assembled. ]
[Shadowheart waits nervously, not entirely understanding what Harold is doing – she barely understands how the earpiece works, only that it more or less does – and the anticipation of what this file might contain building and building until, finally, it arrives.
The first thing she sees is the name, and, without thinking, she whispers aloud,] Jenevelle.
[So she has a name. A name her parents gave her. Jenevelle Hallowleaf. And Arnell and Emmeline Hallowleaf must be her parents. Her eyes skim over the 'health profile' – accurate, as far as she can tell – and the 'personality' section – which she opts to dismiss, telling herself that Aurora, or Echo, or whoever wrote this, doesn't really know her – before returning to the name.
Jenevelle. Jen. That vision of her father in Aphaia had shouted for Jen, and now she knows why.
The other thing that catches her eye is the age. Forty-eight. That means she must have been with the Sharrans for near forty years. Her mother must be seventy now, at least. Old for a human. How much life has she got left? Even if Shadowheart rescued her tomorrow, they'd have so little time together.]
How do they get this information, do you suppose? 'Frightfully personal' barely seems to cover it.
[ Harold respectfully does not comment on her whispering her birth name aloud, instead folds his hands on the table in front of him and watches his own digits like they're fascinating until she's processed it enough to compose herself. Then he glances up, and answers factually. ]
There's a variety of possible methods I could speculate on, but it's really impossible to tell. Whatever method they use to transport us here is likely even easier to use for surveillance -- image and audio being far easier to transfer than matter.
[ It frustrates him that he doesn't know anything more about this, honestly, but Harold also recognizes that it isn't exactly the most relevant part of this conversation. ]
... If I'd realized you didn't know your birth name, I would have sent this to you earlier. I apologize.
[ Likely anonymously, but still. He would've sent it to her. ]
[His explanation, such as it is, feels... slippery, in a way. Based in technologies and concepts that she's not familiar enough with to entirely understand. But the basic thrust of it – that he hasn't got an answer to her question – she grasps with no trouble.
Her eyes flick over to meet his as she catches a faint hint of frustration. If Harold's frustrated, Shadowheart more than shares that particular sentiment.]
There's one thing about me you weren't able to glean. [A little joke.] But it's true, nearly everything in this file is as new to me as it is to you.
[She has no doubt that he's read it. Even if he hadn't implied as much, he is, as she put it, 'nosy and clever,' and that's the sort of person who wouldn't pass up the opportunity to snoop.]
Can I trust that you haven't shared it with anyone else? And that you won't share it with anyone in the future?
[ Harold grimaces at the jab, not because he takes it as a dig but because it serves as a reminder of how limited he truly is here compared to what he would have at home. Of course, there's other advantages to Etraya, and he isn't second guessing his decision to stay here -- but the lack of internet records to hack is never going to sit well with him. ]
Believe me, what I know is pitifully little. I'm accustomed to having access to a far vaster network.
[ Especially when he's working directly with the Machine. ]
Accordingly, I'm extremely conscientious about information security, [ he assures her. It's something of a hilarious understatement to anyone who knows Harold well, but he knows all she has in this case is his word. ] I haven't shared this, or any of the other files, with anyone. Including John.
[ Harold shares information with John when it's personal or relevant to the situation at hand, and John trusts him that he will. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I saw nothing
It does earn her a clarification, however. ]
For what it's worth, he hasn't shared much with me about you, either. Not beyond basic facts. We don't share information with one another about personal acquaintances.
[ He means in contrast to information-sharing for other reasons, in which case all bets are off. But the second it becomes personal... they're professional intelligence agents, not gossips. Harold has always found that aspect of the job easy for him to fall into, the separation between the mission and a personal life. ]
thank you 😔 and also sorry for the delay
[Had she an understanding of how the network functions, Shadowheart might go prying in other people's affairs; she wouldn't be surprised if Harold's done the same. And she meant it when she called it admirable. She likes someone who knows how to collect information on others and isn't afraid to do so.
She doesn't, however, love the idea of someone poking around in her own life and relationships.]
So tell me, what is it John's said about me? And what else have you managed to glean?
[With a soft whine, Scratch returns to her and sniffs at the beads she was working with. She absently scratches behind his ears as she waits for Harold's response.]
omg no problem at all, take your time
John said you're a skilled healer and a friend, [ he answers, raising his eyebrows in genuine interest and hoping to be a bit disarming, at least enough to get away from the subject of what else he's learned. ] Something about making pie? You're probably better at it than me already -- I'm entirely dependent on John for cooking.
[ Only a slight exaggeration. Harold can put a sandwich together or make pasta, but it's true he thinks Shadowheart is probably already better than him. The personal admission might help guide the conversation in a new direction. ]
no subject
[She's bad at it. She's very, very bad at it.]
But since I'm John's friend, and you and he are together... [She's assuming.] We ought to be completely honest with each other, don't you think? I'm also a very private person, and I like to know what people know about me.
[She can't help the calculation she makes, purely automatically, that Harold would be a useful ally, that she should get him on her side. The thought that she genuinely likes and cares about John, and should therefore make friends with his partner, comes second, like an atrophied muscle struggling to catch up. She should work that muscle more, she thinks. She wants to; it's nice having a friend, after all, and wouldn't it be nice to have more? But Harold's only answered one of her two questions, and she's no better at pointing that out tactfully than she is at cooking.]
no subject
More than you'd like me to, I'm sure, [ he says in a tone of confession. He hopes this admission will be enough to satisfy her. ] ... Forgive me, did you say that we're together?
[ This is not a ploy this time; he's frowning vaguely, puzzled, uncertain. Together in that context is usually used romantically. Harold would gloss past it like he usually does, except this is a friend of John's. ]
What makes you think that? Did John say something?
no subject
But she finds herself distracted by his seeming confusion.]
Aren't you? He speaks so frequently of you, and with enough fondness that I thought... Well. You said yourself, employer and employee is no longer the nature of your relationship.
no subject
[ Harold falters, suddenly floundering with how to explain what is the nature of their relationship. Normally he isn't trying to be honest about it, but Shadowheart is already suspicious of him and he doesn't think his usual blithe avoidance would work here, not without damaging things perhaps irreparably.
Having actual friends is so difficult. ]
We've committed to staying with one another, here in Etraya, [ Harold says slowly, because that is factual. He can't very well say, he died for me -- he said if he could only save one life, that mine was the right life -- and he can't say either, we found something together that we didn't expect, something more than the mission.
Awkwardly, with too-precise words: ] If he wishes for anything past that, he hasn't indicated it to me.
no subject
Vague. But not to worry, I've little interest in turning over your relationship like a rock to see all the bugs squirming underneath.
[And she doesn't want to go prying where she isn't wanted and upset John. She can respect a person's secrets. When they're a friend, anyway.]
What I am interested in is whatever information you've learned about me. [She's not letting it go until she knows what he knows.]
no subject
It makes Harold inclined to tell her the truth now. She's earned it from that moment of mercy in not digging into Harold and John's personal relationship when he was so clearly flustered by it. On top of which, it's not really dangerous information any longer; extending this small measure of trust will be better than solidifying himself as intractable. Harold likes to be mysterious, but he doesn't enjoy acting as a potential threat. He's done it a few times and it chafes like a polyester jacket every time. ]
There used to be personnel files available in the sub-basement levels of the hospital, [ he informs her, making that decision lightning-fast and, once made, speaking plainly. He'd vastly prefer to talk about this in any case. ] I was able to make copies of some of them before they were removed. Yours was one.
They aren't detailed, but they can be informative.
[ They're woefully inadequate compared to Harold's usual standards of looking up every minute detail of someone's life with about an hour of research and some judiciously applied hacking, but they are something more than the nothing he otherwise has available here. ]
no subject
What he says instantly catches her attention, thoroughly diverting it from any thoughts on Harold or his relationship to John.]
Files? Tell me, what do they say? Or better yet, show me.
[She can't exactly hide how eager she is to see whatever's in this file he's got. Eager and, perhaps, more than a little trepidatious.
She has precious few memories of her past. She doesn't even know her real name. But Aurora must know; she's tormented Shadowheart with pictures of people and places Shadowheart can't recall, memories that have been taken from her. If this file belonged to Aurora, it must have something in it that can shed light on Shadowheart's stolen past. Though, as badly as Shadowheart wants to know more about herself, she knows her past contains horrors that she's not sure she's entirely ready to face.]
no subject
He lifts a hand to briefly touch his Etraya-supplied earpiece, and he enters commands through the eye motion tracker, gaze flicking back and forth in quick motions. He still prefers a physical keyboard, but he's reluctant to tamper with the earpiece too much and doesn't like lugging around a full wireless keyboard. And he's not about to show Shadowheart his second, secret communications device after this exchange.
Shadowheart will receive a document from username finch. ]
I've sent you what I have. ... I should warn you, I find it both woefully incomplete and frightfully personal.
[ Not at all the kind of dossier Harold would have assembled. ]
no subject
The first thing she sees is the name, and, without thinking, she whispers aloud,] Jenevelle.
[So she has a name. A name her parents gave her. Jenevelle Hallowleaf. And Arnell and Emmeline Hallowleaf must be her parents. Her eyes skim over the 'health profile' – accurate, as far as she can tell – and the 'personality' section – which she opts to dismiss, telling herself that Aurora, or Echo, or whoever wrote this, doesn't really know her – before returning to the name.
Jenevelle. Jen. That vision of her father in Aphaia had shouted for Jen, and now she knows why.
The other thing that catches her eye is the age. Forty-eight. That means she must have been with the Sharrans for near forty years. Her mother must be seventy now, at least. Old for a human. How much life has she got left? Even if Shadowheart rescued her tomorrow, they'd have so little time together.]
How do they get this information, do you suppose? 'Frightfully personal' barely seems to cover it.
no subject
There's a variety of possible methods I could speculate on, but it's really impossible to tell. Whatever method they use to transport us here is likely even easier to use for surveillance -- image and audio being far easier to transfer than matter.
[ It frustrates him that he doesn't know anything more about this, honestly, but Harold also recognizes that it isn't exactly the most relevant part of this conversation. ]
... If I'd realized you didn't know your birth name, I would have sent this to you earlier. I apologize.
[ Likely anonymously, but still. He would've sent it to her. ]
no subject
Her eyes flick over to meet his as she catches a faint hint of frustration. If Harold's frustrated, Shadowheart more than shares that particular sentiment.]
There's one thing about me you weren't able to glean. [A little joke.] But it's true, nearly everything in this file is as new to me as it is to you.
[She has no doubt that he's read it. Even if he hadn't implied as much, he is, as she put it, 'nosy and clever,' and that's the sort of person who wouldn't pass up the opportunity to snoop.]
Can I trust that you haven't shared it with anyone else? And that you won't share it with anyone in the future?
no subject
Believe me, what I know is pitifully little. I'm accustomed to having access to a far vaster network.
[ Especially when he's working directly with the Machine. ]
Accordingly, I'm extremely conscientious about information security, [ he assures her. It's something of a hilarious understatement to anyone who knows Harold well, but he knows all she has in this case is his word. ] I haven't shared this, or any of the other files, with anyone. Including John.
[ Harold shares information with John when it's personal or relevant to the situation at hand, and John trusts him that he will. ]