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xp_logsMarie-Ange is temporarily indisposed, so 14's first uncomfortable and undesired conversation happens to be happening with Doug instead. She's so not ready for any of this.
The text from Marie-Ange had been a bit confusing, asking him to go check on the Stepfords, and that "they're being weird". Weird by Angie's standards could be any variety of things, but she wasn't prone to overexaggerating. So Doug was headed down the hall as fast as he could, in search of a Cuckoo to check on.
The last thing 14 expected, having just taken fifteen seconds to leave Marie-Ange a voicemail that could basically be summed up as "Hey, no rush, call me when you have a sec I have a thing to tell you", was to have Doug burst through the door. She took in his appearance, the sort of shuffled disheveledness, and the somewhat labored breathing and really there was only one conclusion she could come to with a single appropriate reaction.
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh, god. She called you, didn't she?"
Doug leaned a bit more heavily against the doorjamb than he perhaps would have liked. "Texted, but yeah," he replied. "It seemed at least somewhat urgent, so." He took a few moments to take in the body in front of him (even he was only about fifty-fifty at guessing which one he was talking to without obvious mannerisms to tell them apart) and cocked his head. "I mean, you seem fine - all of you doing okay?" he asked.
Wasn't that the thousand dollar question of the moment? Now that their guests from the future had left, 14 was... decompressing. Her good mood still hadn't quite left her, but the gravity of everything that had gone on was finally starting to catch up with her. She sighed. "More or less. You may as well sit down, you know. You've saved me the trouble of having to track you down. I have some news to share."
Doug grunted and shuffled over to the nearest chair. "Well, being told to sit down before news is not the best sign..." he murmured. That 'more or less' probably eliminated the first 'you'd better sit down' trope (I'm dying), and related to Emma or not, he just couldn't imagine any of them -having- sex, which took care of the other (I'm pregnant). The time-lost kids had been a definite soap opera sort of thing, so he was somewhat stuck in thinking of ridiculous plot devices. Amnesia? Evil twin? (How would that even work when there were five of them?)
He shrugged. "You might as well lay it on me, or I'm going to start guessing more and more ridiculous stuff from telenovelas."
Celeste shook her head. "It's nothing like that. You just..." she left the 'look kind of like hell' hanging. She was pretty sure it was implied easily enough though.
She tapped a finger against her leg. There had been a reason she'd wanted to start with Marie-Ange over the phone. It was... easier when there was some distance. Still, this was her secret, which meant that it was entirely her business if she wanted to keep it or give it away. And with Emma in the know, it was unlikely to stay a secret for much longer anyway. So it would be better if she told everyone herself, and if they hated her for keeping it, well screw them. She was a Frost and a Stepford and a damn fine telepath, and would be just fine on her own. She didn't care how they'd respond.
...she really, really cared. Fuck.
"No, this is just... let's call it a secret freely given." She hoped that'd impress on him how important this was. He should be well aware that she didn't just give secrets away without cause.
Doug absolutely caught the unspoken "look like hell", and lifted a finger off of his cane, like a fencer acknowledging a touch. He sat as gracefully as he could, still catching his breath. Stupid blood curse. "As the man said, 'you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention'." They had definitely inherited Emma's fantastic poker face - he picked up on the finger tap, the tiniest sign of nervousness in an otherwise impassive expression. "So what's the news?" he asked, evenly and as reassuringly as he could.
"Right." She resisted the urge to sigh. Keeping it simple and clean and smooth was going to be a challenge. She could already feel it.
"There's... not really an easy way to say it without bringing up just a ton of questions, I suppose. What would you say if I told you that I don't actually have any sisters?"
"Yes. Yes, I have questions." Doug's head was tilted very far over to one side as his brain tried to catch up with 14's sidewise implication. He was used to that sort of thing from Emma, but... "I mean, you come as a matched set, but..."
Wait.
"Horsefuckery," he breathed in Asgardian. "You mean 'I' in the collective, don't you."
"Ooh, I'm going to have to remember that one," 14 tittered. "But, yes, that's essentially correct. There's not a 'us', just 'me'. I admit the concept is... somewhat rather complicated."
Doug snorted. "Somewhat rather complicated. That's one way of putting it. I mean...I've seen you play chess before. On both sides of the board." He really struggled not to go down the rabbit hole of discussion of just how insufficient English was as a language when it came to pronouns and edge cases.
"Parallel Processing," 14 said with a smile.
There was a beat, and she laughed, unable to keep a straight face any longer. "Or at least, that's what I wish I could say. However, I'm not quite that capable. I simply enjoy analyzing famous matches through history. I look them up on my phone while playing myself."
Maybe it was just Doug's perception, but it seemed like...with the weight of secrecy off her shoulders, 14 was more willing to joke and be playful. It was a nice thing to see, even if he was still catching up to the revelation. He existed in a world of secrecy and transaction, and times when he could set that aside were to be treasured. He grinned. "Well, you had me convinced, and I'm not generally the easiest to fool."
"Call it a lifetime of practice," 14 said, smiling somewhat enigmatically. "The cuckoos are a product of a lifelong acting class, if you will. That, and the world's most complicated multitasking routine." Beat. "There's a reason that we all tend to stick to roughly the same routine. It's... easier on me."
"That makes sense. More actions and more complexity takes more concentration." Doug wrapped his hands around his cane, thinking through implications. "Does Emma know?" he asked. It would be difficult to keep a secret from her, but he would if needed.
"If she hadn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. What's the expression?" Celeste asked, as if it wasn't her signature phrase, more or less. "Two can keep a secret...?"
"-if one of them is dead," Doug finished the line in agreement. "I had thought that might be the case, but better not to make assumptions." Perhaps he was feeling still a bit paternal in the absence of the time-lost daughter he'd found out about. "If you need me, for anything, I will be there to help," he promised 14. "No obligations or favors necessary." He knew she could be touchy about such things, but he still wanted to make the offer.
14 could admit to herself privately that she hated lines like that. 'No favors necessary' always seemed to be a lie, with a hanging 'oh it's not related but could you do this one thing for me?' And suddenly she couldn't refuse without looking like an asshole.
(She would refuse anyway, of course. She didn't usually care what others thought of her, but it always got annoying when people made offers they didn't intend to keep and then got pissy at her when she took them at their word. There was nothing worse than an oath-breaker.)
Still, this was, if only ostensibly, her boss. Some manner of decorum was called for.
"I will... definitely let you know if the need arises," she eventually committed.
He knew that look. It was the same 'I will humor you but I certainly don't believe you' side eye that Emma tended to give out on the regular. So Doug waved it off. "I know, talk is cheap and all that. But if you ask Emma, I think she'll tell you that I keep my promises." Sometimes past the point of good sense, and even into (or maybe past) the jaws of death.
"I will keep that in mind," 14 said, injecting a tone of finality into what was quickly turning into an uncomfortable conversation. "Now, was there anything you needed while I was here?" She asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, letting the familiar habit wash back over her like a safety blanket.
The text from Marie-Ange had been a bit confusing, asking him to go check on the Stepfords, and that "they're being weird". Weird by Angie's standards could be any variety of things, but she wasn't prone to overexaggerating. So Doug was headed down the hall as fast as he could, in search of a Cuckoo to check on.
The last thing 14 expected, having just taken fifteen seconds to leave Marie-Ange a voicemail that could basically be summed up as "Hey, no rush, call me when you have a sec I have a thing to tell you", was to have Doug burst through the door. She took in his appearance, the sort of shuffled disheveledness, and the somewhat labored breathing and really there was only one conclusion she could come to with a single appropriate reaction.
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh, god. She called you, didn't she?"
Doug leaned a bit more heavily against the doorjamb than he perhaps would have liked. "Texted, but yeah," he replied. "It seemed at least somewhat urgent, so." He took a few moments to take in the body in front of him (even he was only about fifty-fifty at guessing which one he was talking to without obvious mannerisms to tell them apart) and cocked his head. "I mean, you seem fine - all of you doing okay?" he asked.
Wasn't that the thousand dollar question of the moment? Now that their guests from the future had left, 14 was... decompressing. Her good mood still hadn't quite left her, but the gravity of everything that had gone on was finally starting to catch up with her. She sighed. "More or less. You may as well sit down, you know. You've saved me the trouble of having to track you down. I have some news to share."
Doug grunted and shuffled over to the nearest chair. "Well, being told to sit down before news is not the best sign..." he murmured. That 'more or less' probably eliminated the first 'you'd better sit down' trope (I'm dying), and related to Emma or not, he just couldn't imagine any of them -having- sex, which took care of the other (I'm pregnant). The time-lost kids had been a definite soap opera sort of thing, so he was somewhat stuck in thinking of ridiculous plot devices. Amnesia? Evil twin? (How would that even work when there were five of them?)
He shrugged. "You might as well lay it on me, or I'm going to start guessing more and more ridiculous stuff from telenovelas."
Celeste shook her head. "It's nothing like that. You just..." she left the 'look kind of like hell' hanging. She was pretty sure it was implied easily enough though.
She tapped a finger against her leg. There had been a reason she'd wanted to start with Marie-Ange over the phone. It was... easier when there was some distance. Still, this was her secret, which meant that it was entirely her business if she wanted to keep it or give it away. And with Emma in the know, it was unlikely to stay a secret for much longer anyway. So it would be better if she told everyone herself, and if they hated her for keeping it, well screw them. She was a Frost and a Stepford and a damn fine telepath, and would be just fine on her own. She didn't care how they'd respond.
...she really, really cared. Fuck.
"No, this is just... let's call it a secret freely given." She hoped that'd impress on him how important this was. He should be well aware that she didn't just give secrets away without cause.
Doug absolutely caught the unspoken "look like hell", and lifted a finger off of his cane, like a fencer acknowledging a touch. He sat as gracefully as he could, still catching his breath. Stupid blood curse. "As the man said, 'you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention'." They had definitely inherited Emma's fantastic poker face - he picked up on the finger tap, the tiniest sign of nervousness in an otherwise impassive expression. "So what's the news?" he asked, evenly and as reassuringly as he could.
"Right." She resisted the urge to sigh. Keeping it simple and clean and smooth was going to be a challenge. She could already feel it.
"There's... not really an easy way to say it without bringing up just a ton of questions, I suppose. What would you say if I told you that I don't actually have any sisters?"
"Yes. Yes, I have questions." Doug's head was tilted very far over to one side as his brain tried to catch up with 14's sidewise implication. He was used to that sort of thing from Emma, but... "I mean, you come as a matched set, but..."
Wait.
"Horsefuckery," he breathed in Asgardian. "You mean 'I' in the collective, don't you."
"Ooh, I'm going to have to remember that one," 14 tittered. "But, yes, that's essentially correct. There's not a 'us', just 'me'. I admit the concept is... somewhat rather complicated."
Doug snorted. "Somewhat rather complicated. That's one way of putting it. I mean...I've seen you play chess before. On both sides of the board." He really struggled not to go down the rabbit hole of discussion of just how insufficient English was as a language when it came to pronouns and edge cases.
"Parallel Processing," 14 said with a smile.
There was a beat, and she laughed, unable to keep a straight face any longer. "Or at least, that's what I wish I could say. However, I'm not quite that capable. I simply enjoy analyzing famous matches through history. I look them up on my phone while playing myself."
Maybe it was just Doug's perception, but it seemed like...with the weight of secrecy off her shoulders, 14 was more willing to joke and be playful. It was a nice thing to see, even if he was still catching up to the revelation. He existed in a world of secrecy and transaction, and times when he could set that aside were to be treasured. He grinned. "Well, you had me convinced, and I'm not generally the easiest to fool."
"Call it a lifetime of practice," 14 said, smiling somewhat enigmatically. "The cuckoos are a product of a lifelong acting class, if you will. That, and the world's most complicated multitasking routine." Beat. "There's a reason that we all tend to stick to roughly the same routine. It's... easier on me."
"That makes sense. More actions and more complexity takes more concentration." Doug wrapped his hands around his cane, thinking through implications. "Does Emma know?" he asked. It would be difficult to keep a secret from her, but he would if needed.
"If she hadn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. What's the expression?" Celeste asked, as if it wasn't her signature phrase, more or less. "Two can keep a secret...?"
"-if one of them is dead," Doug finished the line in agreement. "I had thought that might be the case, but better not to make assumptions." Perhaps he was feeling still a bit paternal in the absence of the time-lost daughter he'd found out about. "If you need me, for anything, I will be there to help," he promised 14. "No obligations or favors necessary." He knew she could be touchy about such things, but he still wanted to make the offer.
14 could admit to herself privately that she hated lines like that. 'No favors necessary' always seemed to be a lie, with a hanging 'oh it's not related but could you do this one thing for me?' And suddenly she couldn't refuse without looking like an asshole.
(She would refuse anyway, of course. She didn't usually care what others thought of her, but it always got annoying when people made offers they didn't intend to keep and then got pissy at her when she took them at their word. There was nothing worse than an oath-breaker.)
Still, this was, if only ostensibly, her boss. Some manner of decorum was called for.
"I will... definitely let you know if the need arises," she eventually committed.
He knew that look. It was the same 'I will humor you but I certainly don't believe you' side eye that Emma tended to give out on the regular. So Doug waved it off. "I know, talk is cheap and all that. But if you ask Emma, I think she'll tell you that I keep my promises." Sometimes past the point of good sense, and even into (or maybe past) the jaws of death.
"I will keep that in mind," 14 said, injecting a tone of finality into what was quickly turning into an uncomfortable conversation. "Now, was there anything you needed while I was here?" She asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, letting the familiar habit wash back over her like a safety blanket.
