[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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. ]