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[doihavetoexplainmath]

[There's no greeting or anything, just some changing and scraping sounds and a shot of a shadowy, faintly purple ceiling, and it cuts off four seconds later.]

Comments

[thebubblyone]

Hello, love. We've been paired up for good, now - I wonder if you might want to see your file?

[doihavetoexplainmath]

[The reply takes a little time. Entrapta rarely actually thinks about things she's going to say and how.]

I can't see how that'd be informative.

[thebubblyone]

Maybe not for you, but for me? I'd like to make sure it gives me the right idea about you. And it might be interesting for you to know if the Admiral has his facts right.

[doihavetoexplainmath]

I'm assuming based on flood evidence he should. I mean, if we see each other's memories and such. But fine.

[thebubblyone]

Lovely! Why don't you come over?

...I've made some tiny pies.

[doihavetoexplainmath]

[Darn it. This is the problem. She wouldn't care if she didn't generally enjoy Hilda's company. This warden thing ruins everything.]

Okay...

[thebubblyone]

Lovely! I can't recall if you've visited before - level one, room twenty? Door's unlocked.

[doihavetoexplainmath]

Fine.

[Once again it takes a long time for her to show up, and she looks decidedly sulky on the doorstep. Even her hair is flat and still.]

[thebubblyone]

Which Hilda immediately notices, when she answers the door to her.

"...ah, lamb. I know this isn't what you wanted, but let's try to make the best of it, hey? Come in."

She steps back, ushering Entrapta into the warm, cosy, spice-scented space of a large household kitchen.

[doihavetoexplainmath]

Entrapta wrinkles her nose, more than usually ready to be annoyed. Normally she wouldn't react to "lamb" with anything more than mild confusion, if at all, but right now it's unwanted. She walks in and leans one shoulder and one pigtail against the nearest convenient wall.

This is dumb and there's got to be a way she can get out of it without the admiral making her scheme.

[thebubblyone]

Ah. She's a teenager after all. Hilda offers her a plate with a tiny pie on it. It's pecan.

"You know you couldn't get out of this forever, don't you?"

[doihavetoexplainmath]

She is both feeling generally rebellions and faintly distressed in ways that for her are almost generous, but she's not going to turn down tiny pie. She snags it with a lock of hair without uncrossing her arms. "Seems like there's precedent. How long was that guy who'd just graduated and talked about a record here?"

[thebubblyone]

"I think about ten years," Hilda volunteers, and takes a tiny pie for herself. "Do you really want to be here that long?"

[doihavetoexplainmath]

"Why would I want to leave?" She's been working on good lying, but that's an active choice. All you have to do is say whatever you want the other person to think. Slightly more subtle forms of deception like not blurting out pretty much exactly the thing you don't want getting around are different.

Also she's told several other inmates as much. And Gortys. And maybe some other warden, she doesn't know.

[thebubblyone]

She looks unfazed.

"Why would you want to stay?"

[doihavetoexplainmath]

"Time is completely irrelevant, information's available from a potentially unlimited number of worlds, serious injury and death aren't a problem..." She ticks off her points on locks of hair shaped into fingers.

[thebubblyone]

"But if nothing's a problem, then nothing matters," Hilda points out mildly. "You can spend centuries gathering information, but as long as you're stuck here there's not much you can do with it, is there?"

[doihavetoexplainmath]

The next look Hilda gets isn't sulky. It's totally uncomprehending. "Information matters."

[thebubblyone]

"Information just for the sake of it?" Hilda wonders. "Information you just gather up and then don't do anything with?"

[doihavetoexplainmath]

Right, people are generally terrible, gotta remember that. "I've tried just researching things other people think are useful. It's boring and restrictive."

[thebubblyone]

"Nobody's saying you should do anything you don't find interesting," she says mildly. "But if you find it useful, wouldn't you rather be able to put it to use? Prove that other people should be paying attention?"

[doihavetoexplainmath]

"Other people are on their own." Bitterness from a few directions there, but all beneath the surface Entrapta's looking at, which consists pretty much entirely of righteous indignation.

[thebubblyone]

Hilda goes to put the kettle on.

"Is that how you're feeling too, Entrapta?"

[doihavetoexplainmath]

The transition is lost on her. "Huh?"

[thebubblyone]

"Like you're on your own," she clarifies, quietly.