Lydia isn't okay. She just isn't. But Lydia's always been good at pretending that she's fine when she isn't, so she gets herself released after three days of mind-numbing bullcrap being pushed on her and all that Lydia can think instead of "thank God" or "About time" or just about any other thing that should have popped into her head when she was released from the cloning center is that the "glitches" felt a little too detailed to be glitches and she's antsy just thinking about it.
Still, she spends her twenty-four hours of freedom from responsibility exploring quietly. She listens when her roommates are talking — two men; that figures — observes her surroundings carefully during meals, and stores all of the new information, mentally organizing what she thinks is important versus what isn't. Eventually, she'll want to draw back on the things she actually had time to pay attention to.
And now, she's being given her first official mission — with another man. She knows there's women here, so where the hell are they? — which means study hour is over. Lydia heads out in search of her partner and the truck they said would have the wire they need to transport. It's been made clear that it could be dangerous and she's been given a gun that's already making her feel a little uncomfortable in her own skin just holding. Lydia does the math in her head really quickly and hopes like hell that they're meant to be dropping off the wire to someone who can help them move it off the truck, because one hundred kilos doesn't sound so bad until you convert it to pounds and more than double the load.
He's tall and thin; his build reminds her a little of Isaac — was he a dream or a glitch? — and he's attractive, but he doesn't look like he's built to lift over two hundred pounds and God knows she's not.
"Hi, I'm Lydia," she offers, holding her hand out to shake as she approaches, pulling a map out of the pocket of her jumpsuit — ugliest effing thing I've ever seen. Would it kill them to give me a skirt and a cute top? For Christ's sake, I look like a criminal. — with her free one. "They said you had the truck, the cargo, and the paperwork, so they gave me a map and a gun and told me to hurry up, so...I guess I'm late? Sorry?"
no subject
Still, she spends her twenty-four hours of freedom from responsibility exploring quietly. She listens when her roommates are talking — two men; that figures — observes her surroundings carefully during meals, and stores all of the new information, mentally organizing what she thinks is important versus what isn't. Eventually, she'll want to draw back on the things she actually had time to pay attention to.
And now, she's being given her first official mission — with another man. She knows there's women here, so where the hell are they? — which means study hour is over. Lydia heads out in search of her partner and the truck they said would have the wire they need to transport. It's been made clear that it could be dangerous and she's been given a gun that's already making her feel a little uncomfortable in her own skin just holding. Lydia does the math in her head really quickly and hopes like hell that they're meant to be dropping off the wire to someone who can help them move it off the truck, because one hundred kilos doesn't sound so bad until you convert it to pounds and more than double the load.
He's tall and thin; his build reminds her a little of Isaac — was he a dream or a glitch? — and he's attractive, but he doesn't look like he's built to lift over two hundred pounds and God knows she's not.
"Hi, I'm Lydia," she offers, holding her hand out to shake as she approaches, pulling a map out of the pocket of her jumpsuit — ugliest effing thing I've ever seen. Would it kill them to give me a skirt and a cute top? For Christ's sake, I look like a criminal. — with her free one. "They said you had the truck, the cargo, and the paperwork, so they gave me a map and a gun and told me to hurry up, so...I guess I'm late? Sorry?"