in a supposed democracy

[she_sells_seashells]

Snow's death is announced on television the day after it happens. The announcer speaks of "sudden illness".

There are going to be emergency elections to replace him in three days. Without advance notice and the standard scheduling of elections, they're going to be setting up polling places in the Capitol at a limited number of sites. Some outlying neighborhoods will be served by schools and the like. But most of the city will be congregating at the Memorial Dome to cast their votes for the next president.

(There follow thirty solid minutes of campaign ads. The district imports comptroller, the chairman of the traffic control commission and former Gamemaker, the deceased Snow's personal assistant, and a handful of lesser individuals are running. Bell hates them all.)

"Suppose the Memorial Dome caught fire," she says to Sherlock and Tony, frowning at the TV.

Comments

[sicaria]

"He likes you," says Sherlock. "Not just in the same way he likes anything that has recognizable emotions."

[dark_light]

"...As in the relevant sense, or as in I am at least marginally distinct from a puppy or the next-door neighbors?"

[sicaria]

"I don't know how to translate. You and he have very different experiences of the world. If you told him this, he would think it was sweet, and want to hug you and tell you that he likes you. If you asked him to kiss you he would say yes."

[she_sells_seashells]

"That... does indeed fail to translate into something I know how to label," muses Bell.

[sicaria]

Sherlock shrugs.

"I am very good at Tony, even though I am not very good at anyone else."

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell hesitates.

But Sherlock said that she'd transmit her entire experience of the world if she could. And Bell believes her. And she can do something just about that sweet. If she wants to.

Bell hands Sherlock the recorder. "You can listen to anything on this. It's... basically my brain. There's only a handful of locked parts and most of them are locked because the other person found out I was recording and wanted it done, not because they're like what you just heard. Mostly I've been willing to rely on strangers not knowing how to work it and friendlier types never getting their hands on it."

[sicaria]

Sherlock takes it.

And—stops, for a moment, doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't breathe, doesn't do anything at all.

And then she hugs Bell.

[she_sells_seashells]

Bell hugs her back, tight.

[sicaria]

"Thank you," she murmurs.

[she_sells_seashells]

"You're welcome," Shell Bell murmurs back. "Um, if you could tell me which things you're listening to, that would be - good. And I'll want it on me whenever I'm in Milliways and whenever I need to work something tricky out."

[sicaria]

"Yes," she says. "Yes, of course."

[she_sells_seashells]

Nuzzle nuzzle.

[sicaria]

Later, she will listen to things.

Right now: snuggles.