first;

[broughtthegirl]

Zachary Hale  12/16/17 near Recolle

Starting this by saying the name on my damn profile is wrong. And yeah, already contacted technical support.  Anyway, the name's Booker DeWitt. Not exactly a fan of social networking, but plenty people use this, right?  I work for Recolle Metro as a Detective, but I'm extending my services to Private Eye work. Spread the word, give me a call, whatever piques your interest. Got ten years of experience and rates are fair.  Direct message me for questions or details.

Comments

[broughtthegirl]

[ Booker's brow knits, silent for a second as Rosalind goes through the memory. Still zero context to drive on here, and honestly he is absolutely confused when she elaborates. ]

Was...

Was that English?

[originallutece]

Of course it was English, it simply lacked context.

. . . though admittedly, it was rather cryptic English.

[broughtthegirl]

Do you know who the guy was?

[originallutece]

[There's a little pause.]

A man I was very much in love with.

[broughtthegirl]

[ That piques his interest. ]

In love with.

[ He repeats, curious. ]

How's recalling that been for you?

[originallutece]

Not tonight, Booker.

[It's a gentle dissuasion-- though after a moment, she adds wryly:]

Which ought to give you answer enough.

[broughtthegirl]

[ He clams up, simply looking at her. And though his gaze is stern, it softens a touch. Booker knows more than anyone what it's like to deal with lingering feelings and unfinished business. So when she puts up the wall, he respectfully concedes. ]

So, there's obviously more beyond this lighthouse business. What else is there?

[originallutece]

. . . I used to live in a floating city.

[What are the chances he says bullshit? Fairly high, she imagines, but perhaps not. She says it with a slight smile, cheered that he both respects her wishes and amused at the thought of telling him such a bizarre fact.]

[broughtthegirl]

Bullshit.

[ Spoken immediately, even. Rosalind knows Booker far too well. He sits up straight, lowering his cigarette. His expression suggests that he doesn't believe her in the slightest. ]

[originallutece]

Why on earth is that unbelievable, but the fact we can't taste our dinner isn't?

[But that's rhetorical. Rosalind gets up, heading into the front room, seeking out a particular book. Over her shoulder:]

I hardly know how you expect me to share memories if you're going to ignore me at every turn. But fortunately for you--

[She returns, a blue book in her hands.]

--I've proof. Go to chapter four.

[Where, indeed, there's a very long and detailed explanation on how the city of Columbia manages to stay midair: not a matter of levitation, but rather quantum suspension.

(Will he think to check when the book was published? She wonders).]

[broughtthegirl]

[ Booker makes a face at that, mostly because he has no patience to fight back with her. Rosalind hands the book over to him and he scoffs before begrudgingly taking a look. It makes no sense from start to finish, but he somehow gets more interested the deeper he looks through.

He squints at the text. ]

Giant balloons.

[ That's what he's getting from this. ]

[originallutece]

I'm going to pretend you didn't just say such a stupid thing.

[UNIMPRESSED TBH. Rosalind takes a few steps over, leaning her hips against the back of the chair so she can peer over his shoulder at the book.]

Quantum physics. It's something to do with atoms and what have you.