His face gave away nothing, neither did his eyes. If she was expecting an immediate answer, then it would unfortunately be subject to some delay in the same way she'd so eloquently performed an act for the sake of more attention.
Gracefully, and in a manner that seemed indicative of at least some degree of affection, his right hand reached out and brushed the hair that was obscuring half of her face behind the ear. This brought her face back into full view, at which point he returned his hand to himself. It was now clear that for as much as she enjoyed his attention, he not only enjoyed providing it but simply being able to look at her without obstruction. And it was only once this was apparent that words were uttered. "I understand. But you might find it ironic to hear that your admission of this only makes you seem relatable, and even likable to me." The apparent stoicism broke upon the expression of this, undone by a subtle smile and a mild wrinkling at the corner of his eyes.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" It was an offer that came across as sounding genuine and with no discernable ulterior motives.
She remained perfectly still as he brushed a few unruly strands of black hair away from her face and, save for a few long blinks, watched him intently. There was no hint of worry or nervousness in her expression - she looked as if she was in complete control of the situation.
"From our dialogue, it does not strike me that you are the sort of man who would find anything interesting in someone else's weaknesses, Mister. Doe. I take you for a man who will ruthlessly exploit the weaknesses of others to achieve his ends."
"And as to your second, gallant question - I am afraid not. I suppose nothing can be done about these innate difficulties of mine. Even our vast scientific knowledge is still short on the fundamental matters of our mortal biology, is it not?"
There was still a hint of amusement in her voice. She raised her crystal glass higher and went on the 'counter-offensive'. With slow, weighted steps, she silently walked around him, watching his reactions closely.
"I suppose you are satisfied with my answers, Mister Doe, so now I'd like to ask you a question. A serious question, however, I will not draw any consequences if you do not answer it - after all, it is personal."
She spoke again as she finished her lap around him and took a short break to take a drink from her glass.
"Who do you plan to be in ten, fifteen years - a hero, a statesman, or someone else entirely?"
He shook his head as she circled him and made her observations, as if disagreeing with certain parts of it. "I exploit the weaknesses of my enemies. It's an important distinction, considering you're not currently an enemy. Knowing the weaknesses of my own people allows me to protect them. And in your case, it's just refreshing to see one of you actually being human. Your peers pride themselves on this notion that they're perfect. It's why I can't stand them, and like I said, it makes you relatable and likeable." Having made this small clarification, he listened as she stated how there was nothing he could really do to help ease her current discomfort. To this he nodded, but felt like there was a point to be made regardless. "I don't disagree, but I was wondering if I couldn't just get you a cup of tea or anything else that might prove comforting. I'm not naive enough to think I can make this place comfortable to you, but at the very least I might be able to mitigate your discomfort."
With her lap around him complete and punctuated by a question that was quite significant and personal, she was confronted with an answer that was likely the one she least expected to receive. "Being the triumphant hero, or the great statesman, those are both equally overrated fantasies. I want what you have, what you were so fortunate to just be born into. The fact that you could go home right now, to a place that has an actual soul by virtue of the fact that it's inhabited by a real family. One that welcomes and accepts you, that shows you that you're genuinely part of it. That's what I want out of this prison of a life I was forced into." From his expression, posture and tone, there was nothing to suggest this wasn't the truth. There was also the fact that whatever her intentions might have been, the lap around him seemed to do nothing. He was neither intimidated nor impressed, and his eyes tracked her intently. Even when she left his line of sight, he was aware of her position in the room. The only reaction she did get from him was a silent sense of curiosity for why she'd asked him something this specific.
She stopped in front of him and silently watched him for a moment, assessing him. Then she gave a slight nod of her head in agreement and glanced briefly toward the trophies of local fauna displayed high on the wall.
"I apologize for my inappropriate behavior, Mister Doe. Apparently I was a bit more irritable than is usual for me at that moment. I am grateful for your offer to make my stay here more enjoyable, but for now it will suffice if I eat nothing and sip iced water or stronger black tea."
In an apologetic gesture, she curled her gaze to the ground for a second or two before looking him squarely in the eye.
"So what you want most of all is a family, Mister Doe? I would not say that about someone in your position. However, I already know what your parents are like from our previous conversations, but have you tried contacting and finding your extended family, more distant uncles and aunts? They may be completely different people than your father and mother."
She paused for a moment after her question and began to circle the rim of her crystal glass with her left index finger. For a moment she looked thoughtful, or perhaps downright dreamy as she waited for his reply.
The fact his position made that answer seem surprising amused him to no small extent. "Heh. Is it really that surprising? Of course it's what I want, my MO's always been that simple. I want all the things I felt I never had." A tilt of the head and a smirk following this response made it seem as if he was implying she already knew that, and his only reason for reinforcing it now was to act as a reminder.
What she brought up next was dismissed quite decisively, but there was an exception in the back of his mind that he was yet to get to. "I knew who my extended family were, but they weren't much different and didn't like me. My parents were a lot more successful than any of them were, and I was their perfect son, a literal product of a service none of them could afford. Most of them were like this, with the exception of one of my uncle's from my mother's side. He was different." Since the subject of how he'd essentially been made to order had come up before, he felt no need to elaborate.
To establish how this person he'd just brought up was different, he needed to go quite far back in his life and dig through memories which felt remarkably fuzzy. But recollection was possible, even if the finer details felt like they were lost. "Had no kids of his own, wife died in a shuttle crash and he never remarried, probably still hasn't. So on the rare occasion he was allowed to spend time with me, he treated me like a son. And those were the only times in my life I felt like a son. He took me to my first concert, would buy me ice cream if he met me after school, and when I was much older he was the only person willing to argue on my behalf when my parents were adamant that I follow the decisions being made for me. I think the tragedy is he knew what was wrong with me and was fighting as hard as he could to stop me from becoming this. Wonder how he'd react if he could see me now." There was a lot to unpack in his melancholic elaboration, the fact his nature was essentially an error in the genetic code his parents had paid top credit to meddle with, effectively denying him the right to be a person of his own determination. So of course he sided with the cause seeking independence above all else, of course he fought tooth and nail to keep external influence out, because these things were the most basic foundations of the things he craved on a deep and personal level. But he was also acutely aware of how cruel, ruthless and morally culpable his nature was. So while the fault might not have been entirely his, he made no attempts to excuse what he was and his enjoyment of violence.
It was no wonder official media omitted the nuance, people might understand, or worse yet, relate to him otherwise.
She looked up from her crystal glass of water with that still dreamy look and murmured in agreement. With a hint of slight irony, she chuckled.
"I have it exactly backwards, Mister Doe."
"My parents love me as their daughter and perhaps more or less spoil me. But it was my maternal uncle and aunt who began to provoke and develop my intellect with appropriate questions about culture and philosophy. This is not to say that my parents are uncultured barbarians - quite the opposite - they like art but do not know much about it. Their main interests are politics and business, and they have only what limited time they have left for their art studies after their main interests and family."
"This is not the case with my uncle and my aunt, who have their residence turned into a gallery - their political and business ambitions are limited - they devote themselves solely to culture. They study it, they develop their talents, they create their own pieces. They inspire each other."
A slight smile appeared on her dreamy face as she delved further into memories of her uncle and aunt. She was looking directly into his face, but her eyes were gazing into an imaginary infinity somewhere behind his head. She lowered her voice to a half-whisper.
"An extensive library with digital and rare paper volumes, a small concert hall, a sculpture and painting studio with landscaped gardens surrounding the residence. I love spending time there when I can, it is like a whole other world compared to how Sirius feels in space. An oasis of calmness."
After a brief moment she came out of her reverie and her gaze sharpened, this time she was looking at him with her eyes slightly downcast and asked him a question.
"What is your peaceful oasis in this wild universe, Mister Doe?"
He listened intently, as if ensnared by how she had the complete opposite experience he did with family, and he himself was unsure if what he was feeling in the moment was just remorse or severe envy. Faced with her question at the end of it all made it feel like she was twisting the dagger she'd unwittingly stabbed him with, but despite the deep seated pain and regret, he did have an answer for her. "The only time I'm really at peace is those first few moments after strapping into the seat of my ship, right about when I launch from base or a hangar. It's just this sense of being absolutely unrestricted, coupled with the fact that I'll either triumph or die on account of my own efforts out there in the black. There's no interferences, no distractions, it's just me and who I'm capable of being. That's what I always wanted." All of that was expressed quite wistfully, the way he felt seemed to compel him to break eye contact and turn away from her and to the window instead. As if the view of an expansive city might bring him comfort. But he knew it wouldn't.
After his honest answer, she watched his face with her steely blue eyes and listened. And as she studied his reactions, she gave several long blinks, letting her long eyelashes show. Cautiously, she stepped closer to him - close enough for him to smell her rosy perfume - and continued in a half-whisper.
"Do you only feel peace and tranquility in the cockpit of your machine? Let me tell you something, Mister Doe - life is a miracle and yet you are depriving yourself of its beauty. Life is more than an endless struggle for freedom."
In a slow, fluid motion, she reached out her left hand to him and tried to stroke his cheek with the back of her right hand. Even in this rather intimate gesture was her omnipresent calmness and regal demeanor. A caress on the cheek, if he allowed it, was obviously governed by some calculated rules and regulations of her own.
"Imagine that nature - in your case, science - has endowed us with the ability to perceive and explore our existence. They have given us reason, memory and taste."
"You live like a soldier, like a killing machine. Are you not missing other beauties in your life, other deeper experiences of your existence? I know that you are a very intelligent man, Mister Doe. An intellect like yours must be provoked by everything that is happening around you, regarding your future and even your past."
And with the same slow movement, she drew her hand back from his face to her body. She smirked lightly in amusement before turning her back on him theatrically and looking at the decor of their room. Then, in a half whisper, she asked him again.
"How do you actually perceive the world around you? For example, when you look at everything in this room, including me, what are the first five questions that arise in your mind, Mister Doe?"
That first statement she chose to make about the miraculous nature about life prompted him to shake his head in disagreement, obviously he felt this way because the whole point of a miracle was the fact it occurred despite the slimmest probability possible. There was nothing miraculous about a predetermined product like him, maybe except the fact that despite the sheer amount of time and resources invested in trying to dictate who he would be, he became the opposite of it anyway and that fact seemed to startle him enough that he hesitated.
That was the miracle.
By the time his initial series of thoughts resurfaced, she'd decided to touch his cheek and break that focus again since it wasn't something he expected she would do. So rather than disputing anything he had just been told, he just listened and fired off five questions when prompted to do so at the end of her philosophical musing. "What's your angle for doing this?" It was the base and instinctual response, one that said more about him than it attempted to uncover about her, namely the presence of an inherent trust issue that had been there for some time now. Even if the gesture was appreciated, the intention behind it was still being questioned.
"How long will it take before this place is closed despite the best efforts of its owners?" The second was residual and more tangential, something in the back of his mind rather than the forefront and which he had probably unknowingly considered it from the moment they arrived.
"Will we ever have a place for all these people beyond this prison?" The third was a concern mixed with some amount of pragmatic skepticism over the viability of their end goal. Even if a conflict over something like Atka could be won, would they be able to keep it? His eyes had been fixed on the somewhat smoggy cityscape out through the glass windows when asking it
The fourth was more of a personal inflection, casting a brief glance in her direction before just simply questioning the nature of his life. "Why couldn't I just have a life like yours?" It didn't seem like he wanted to be exactly like her, but to have enjoyed the same treatment instead.
And when it came to his fifth and final question, it was hardly surprising as to what it turned out to be. "Will it ever actually feel like I have a home?" Despite the fact that his people welcomed him and treated him like one of theirs, it still felt like he didn't really have one. If anything, it actually felt like he was locked in an eternal struggle of trying to give himself something like the oasis she mentioned earlier. But at no point did it feel like he was making any actual progress, it was just fighting and plenty of it. Even if he thoroughly enjoyed conflict, there was still a threshold before it just became monotony.
She listened attentively to his answers as she stood with her back to him, looking at the decorations in their room. It would almost seem she was ignoring him, but her body language suggested she was listening intently, taking note of his presence.
When her companion asked his fifth question, she turned her head to look at him over her right shoulder, still wrapped in her bathing gown.
"My reasons for all this. Well, one might say I am doing this for the sake of politics and business - but, the terms of our meeting clearly denied those two matters - thus, this is all primarily out of my own curiosity, Mister Doe. You offer me a different perspective. I find our differences amusing and interesting."
She slowly stepped her bare feet over the carpet in the room and turned her body towards him. She looked into his eyes again. Again it took several long seconds before she resumed her carefully articulated speech.
"I like to encourage interesting personalities to ask spontaneous questions - it suggests something about how the person thinks, does it not? For example, your first question said it quite clearly - you are still on the edge, wondering about my motivations."
"There was a sense of sentiment and melancholy in the second question. I know that you are ruthless, but you can still feel something, and all those disappointments you have experienced so far make you more inclined to feel such feelings."
"The third question suggests to me that whatever situation you are in - somewhere in the corner of your mind you are still thinking about your role, your movement and your organization."
"The fourth and fifth questions are personal, about what you are missing from your past, present and inevitably your coming future. Your demons. I do wonder whether you will be able to beat them one day."
She paused in her monologue for a moment to take a sip from her glass of water and raised it to eye level so she could look at him through the water.
"There are no big revelations, I am well aware, but that is to be expected after all those deep and thoughtful conversations we have had before this moment. But it is certainly not a useless thought exercise. Would you be interested in my spontaneous questions as well, Mister Doe, or would you like to converse about something else entirely?"