[ march ii log: ageless beauty ]

[barrayarmods]

Who: Everyone!
What: The skies finally lighten, and so do spirits, but there are still quiet machinations in the dark. The good doctor's fate is finally decided.
When: March 18th - 31st
Where: Barrayaran camp, Cetagandan base & Riverfall Village
Warnings: TBD

Quick links:
Riverfall
Barrayar: Plague / Camp / Missions
Cetaganda: Plague / Base / Missions

First: Special thanks and credit to Vee (veelynn) for lending us her beautiful photography for this event!
TIMELINE
3/19 Art Fair
3/20 York & Ratchet's arrival to the Barrayaran camp
3/22 Raid: Medical Supplies
3/26 Haut Sei's arrival, Eavesdropping Eta
3/27 Eavesdropping Sigma
3/27 - 3/28 Rat Race
3/29 Official reception for Haut Sei
3/30 Mystery Plot

One thing can be said for the month of March: at least the weather's gotten better. By mid-month, while the piled-up snow is slow to melt, the temperatures have now risen to just freezing rather than well below freezing. It's still a pretty cold March, but by this point, anything close to freezing feels like a balmy spring, and they have a nice string of sunny days for the rest of the month.

riverfall
Although their numbers have been thinned by the flu epidemic, Cetagandan patrols still pass regularly through the village, allowing those spying for the Cetagandans to pass along information via dead drop.

Riverfall was hit just as hard by the epidemic as the camp, and by the end of the month, the village houses no more than sixty people. The aid from the outsiders and soldiers in caring for and treating the sick goes a long way, but by the end, there are still a lot of bodies to bury and souls to burn death offerings for. There's an overall somber cast to the village despite the brightening weather.

barrayar
The Barrayarans haven't been hit as dramatically as the Cetagandans, but their numbers are much fewer, and patrols are still thin. Anyone healthy enough is being asked to pull double shifts, stretching their resources where they can, but at least the food situation is improving considerably thanks to both Xav's relief supplies and the lightening weather.

Once seeing both his daughters recover from the flu, Prince Xav leaves camp on the 19th to rendezvous with his transport back to Vorbarr Sultana so he can make another risky attempt at getting off-planet and back through the wormhole blockade. Ezar, as Piotr's aide-de-camp, sticks around -- and so does Negri, of course.

Knowing that it would be safer (if less comfortable) and possibly more useful for the Barrayarans to rendezvous with Micah rather than try to get them back off-planet, Xav leaves Doctor Niadem's fate in Barrayaran hands…and not to great result. Now that the Cetagandans have Micah, Piotr and his general staff -- and anyone in-the-know enough about the situation to provide any advisement -- are still debating what to do about Micah and the wormhole device. They could either try to rescue Micah to their side…or leave them in Cetagandan hands and hope to make contact via one of their informants.

This makes cultivating informants on the Cetagandan side an even higher priority, and if anyone has any ties to outsiders on the other side, personal or otherwise, Piotr wants to hear about it. Any intelligence about the Star Gate Project is vital.

plague
The ill in the camp and Riverfall are recovering, slowly, but the flu is still spreading, reaching its apex, and people are still getting sick. Even as the weather clears up, it's still damp, and many of the sick are falling to pneumonia, a near-certain death without antibiotics. They've already exhausted the medical supplies Xav and Ezar brought with them, and the medical raids went poorly -- only resulting in enough antibiotics for about 20% of the village and camp's combined population.

By the end of the month, though, the Barrayarans are finally beginning to pull through. The camp and village start to recover, with the mortalities over the month total to 58 influenza-related deaths. It's time to bury the death, burn a death offering, and keep on moving on.

camp
Both Olivia and Sonia have recovered from their bouts with the flu, more or less intact despite Olivia's very touch-and-go health for a while. Now Sonia's repaying everyone's visits to her by tending to the sick and helping out where she can. And as the weather warms up and people start to recover, the line for the bath tent starts getting longer…it's still pretty cold, but after lying around in the sickbay tent for a while, few people are going to complain for the chance to wash.

Morale is still buckling, so amidst all the doom and gloom, Sonia decides to try and bring a little levity to the camp by hosting a makeshift little art show on the 19th. The Princess can often be seen with her old antique camera, taking candids or scenic pictures in the mountains, although she rarely shows her work to anyone else. Tonight, though, she has hung up a variety of her black-and-white photos around the camp for the art fair -- some of the candids are even of outsiders, and Sonia's aim seems to be catching everyone in their warmest, happiest moment. There's no sense of tragedy or despair in her work.

She's encouraged as many of the soldiers and outsiders to contribute anything in the way of art -- stories, songs, performance, or craft, she invites it all. A few soldiers make a surprisingly harmonic little chorus, and some visiting villagers give engaging tellings of Barrayaran legends. Lakshmi shows off some of her embroidery, and Beth and Tucker both bring a little singing to the table, although the majority of Barrayarans probably aren't going to appreciate a cappella Queen. Daryl shoots a mouse and either fails to understand art entirely or transcends to a brand new plane of artistic enlightenment. Also, please don't let Tucker pose nude for you.

It winds up doing some good for morale -- giving the soldiers some other context to focus on besides the war, something of an escape, or a reminder of what they're fighting for and what they long to live to see again. And for the first time, Sonia doesn't feel quite so useless.

missions
The medical assistance provided by the outsiders doesn't go unappreciated, nor without effect. Not every day is a success, but at least they manage to keep the mortality rate from climbing too high.

The medical raids are a near-unmitigated disaster, with every single raiding party running afoul of Cetagandan guards and losing some of their bounty on the way out. They only manage to make away with supplies/topicals/OTC analgesics for 40% of the population, vaccine for 20% of the population, and antibiotics for 35% of the population.

The race to Micah's location in Vorkosigan Vashnoi is a frantic one, but despite the outsiders' efforts as well as Natasha, Byerly and Kaidan's efforts to slow down the Cetagandans, the Cetagandans get to Doctor Micah Niadem first.

Here are the unabridged mission results.

cetaganda
Piotr's attempt at psychological warfare was a total success: Zahal is furious over the severed body parts of his own soldiers discovered around the camp, and even more so over the wholly unintentional but devastating biowarfare that comes with it. That part has Piotr rather tickled.

With full intel on Micah's location in hand, Zahal sends as many able-bodied squads to Vorkosigan Vashnoi as he can, including several exotics. Natasha, Kaidan and Byerly work covertly to try and slow the operation down, but ultimately, the Cetagandans still reach Micah first and bring them back to base -- taking proper precaution to vaccinate them before bringing them in, of course. It wouldn't do for their newest and very valuable asset to suddenly die of some backwater plague.

The Cetagandan base is still pretty thin on the personnel front, but they're managing to continue operations as normal. The announcement of the visit from the Handmaiden of the Star Crèche has every able-bodied person on base in a frenzy as they try to prepare and make the base suitable for receiving her. This is clearly an occasion of great honor as well as face -- if she were improperly received, ghem-General Zahal and Lady Diya would surely suffer for it.

plague
The plague reaches its apex in the Cetagandan base, but with Ratchet and Natasha's help, they were able to synthesize a vaccine for the flu. The quarantine isn't airtight, so there's still risk of infection, and they have to make sure those distributing the vaccine aren't at risk of spreading the infection. Overall, they're able to inoculate about 80% of the uninfected population.

Amai makes a full recovery, despite being dramatically (albeit not entirely unrealistically) convinced she was on death's door every second.

By the end of the month, the Barrayaran flu has about a 30% mortality rate on the Cetagandan base, resulting in about 3000 influenza-related deaths.

base
The quarantine remains in effect until nearly the end of the month, but finally, once the epidemic has died down and the Handmaiden has been vaccinated, Haut Sei Navarr arrives. The base hurriedly puts together a formal reception for her on the 30th, and rather than another party, it is just that -- a clearly ritualized receiving of her presence, so rarely seen beyond Eta Ceta, let alone the rest of the Empire.

The reception for Haut Sei is exceedingly formal, and unlike the relatively lighter air of the party last month, inappropriate behavior is going to be much less generously tolerated here. The exotics are not required to attend, but if they do, it'll be about a four-hour reception with a clear ritual protocol that will nonetheless seem very obtuse to outside viewers. Diya is prominent in the reception, being the only other haut on base, and is in fact the only one truly suited to receive her -- although, unlike Diya, Haut Sei does not appear in public unmasked. As is the custom of haut ladies still in their constellations, Haut Sei travels in a float chair encased in an opaque force bubble -- she can see out, but no one can see in. She brings with her a small entourage of servitors known as the ba, who serve not only as testing grounds for new genetic combinations, but are also genetically engineered for loyalty and service. Ba are not clones -- each ba is a work of art unto itself, each carefully created, and while they are not quite so fey in their beauty, the aesthetic effort is undeniable. All of the ba with Haut Sei are curiously hairless, which seems to be a popular trend in their design among the haut these days.

Meanwhile on the scientific end, the Cetagandans are delving deeper into what is officially referred to as the Star Gate Project. They're working with Satya to build a hard-light mapping device, but in the meantime, they have laid out the most crucial parts needed to build it: high-precision electromagnetic bearings to hold up the Necklin rods and spin them by a magnetic field for reduced friction; high-quality seals and pumps to create the necessary vacuum required for precise jump-plotting; something generating EM shielding to prevent interference, a problem unique to creating a Necklin field of this size and in this environment; and high-precision controls and controls software based on those used in existing jump ships, modifications for which are underway. And, of course, the Necklin rods themselves, which they have yet to figure out a way to fabricate.

And now that Micah is on base, the Cetagandans can finally put them to work in the wormhole lab on some of those elusive five-space math problems.

They're still developing their theory of neural netting and how a Necklin field might directly interact with the human brain without a jump implant. Based on their research so far, this may not actually be much of a problem, but there's another factor they have yet to work out: how to key the Star Gate to an exotics' own home universe. The Cetagandan neurologists have a few theories that they're working with Deanna and Natasha on.

missions
With help from the exotics, they're able to vaccinate 80% of the base's uninfected population. Satya and Pearl, despite their hard efforts, have yet to finish the hard-light mapping device by the end of the month.

A few exotics learn a bit more about Sei and Diya's history, as well as Diya and Amai's plans for covering up their less than authorized experiments. It also comes to light that the haut are planning to open gene therapy trials for any exotics who experienced power loss.

The race to Micah's location in Vorkosigan Vashnoi is a frantic one, but despite the outsiders' efforts as well as Natasha, Byerly and Kaidan's efforts to slow down the Cetagandans, the Cetagandans get to Doctor Micah Niadem first.

Here are the unabridged mission results.

Note: Negri, Amai, Zahal, and Olivia are available for threads by request only. Please hit up Madi (Negri & Amai) or Ammay (Zahal & Olivia) respectively for you want threads with either of those NPCs. You can also request a thread with Village Speaker Yakiv Gura if you want, in which case hit up Madi.

Comments

[littlemissfutility]

Beth tries to push his knife out of the way, but she knows it's a futile effort even as she's trying. Wash is stronger than her, and he knows how this particular move works--far better than she does, when she's pushed away as easily as a kitten. It's another moment of having to think about righting herself before she can do anything else. Her weight falls back to one heel, but she doesn't tumble over this time, either.

"At home, it is." If he were a walker, he'd be on the ground by now--the first blow to his chest wouldn't have missed, and she'd have followed it with a knife to the forehead. She draws in a breath, eyeing him for an idea of what she should try next. "You don't aim for anything else unless you have to."

And even then, it's usually desperation. Fighting people that can think is something very different--something that apparently got her killed at home. Wash is patient, asking questions without condescension, and she knows enough to tell that he's not using a tenth of his energy, putting aside her blows.

[protocol]

He is only using a fraction of his energy, but it's less because he wants to go easy on her and more because he's trying to test her, gauge how much she can already do. So far what he's got is that she's capable, would be able to hold her own against an opponent who was -- similarly unskilled. Anyone with training, anyone who's a soldier, she seems quick enough on her feet to maybe get something in if she's lucky, but if she's only ever been taught to go for the head, then. That might not get her anywhere.

Still. She doesn't have technique, but he can tell from the way she goes at him, from how familiar she is with the knife. She has fought before. She has attacked before.

"It won't work here so well -- Heads are hard to get to." The same is true even when it comes to guns. Go for a shot to the head if you can get a clean one, sure, but otherwise it's the center of mass, the most vital targets all in the same much larger much easier to hit area. "Why's that what you go for, back home?"

He's tended not to ask about her home, but he might like an idea of what she's used to fighting if he's going to try and teach her. He pulls away again, getting a few steps of distance between them, gesturing her forward once more.

[littlemissfutility]

She's about to try another jab at him, but his question stops her. The right answer is no reason or I can't tell you. And she's tired of the right answer--it means lying about something so basic that every other part of her existence is affected by it.

Beth lowers her knife, the tension of a waiting attack disappearing.

"Promise not to tell Daryl I said anything." She's tired of meandering around the question, awkwardly avoiding an explanation she wants to give anyway. "He freaked out when he found out I told people."

And it was stupid, say her rolling eyes. She gets why he was worried--the way Byerly's face went bloodless at the idea of the pathogen--but trying to act like everything at home was normal is impossible. Nothing about home was normal, by the end of it, even if there were pockets of time when she could believe they could have real lives again.

[protocol]

Oh. Well.

She lowers the knife, and Wash is uncertain, wavering, and the tone of her voice gives him a good hint even before anything else. She sounds tired. Tired of dodging around it, maybe, about whatever it is about her world that she's had to keep secret -- but he's met Daryl, and he seems sensible, practical, mostly concerned with taking care of his own. If he's told her not to tell, he wagers Daryl must have a good reason.

But Beth sounds like she wants to talk about it, and Wash is always inclined to listen. He hesitates, looking back at her before he nods, flipping the knife back into his palm as he straightens.

"Promise." He's making a lot of promises like this lately, apparently, but he means every one of them. He gestures with a tip of his head. "Take a walk with me, maybe?"

Maybe they can walk and talk for a while. This seems -- important, whatever it is, and if it's a secret the further they are from prying ears the better.

[littlemissfutility]

She nods, sheathing her knife next to her hip, and for a minute or two, they walk in silence. It's not hard to get out to where there's only trees to hear them--one of the nice things about living like this. There's always someplace you can be alone, if you really want to be.

"It sounds crazy," she starts, her gaze steady on the snow before them. This is the kind of story that's easier to tell when she's moving, especially lately; the thought of death, her death, doesn't hold as much weight that way. "But when somebody dies--" you know dying, right?--"they don't really...stop. Not anymore. Somebody dies, and as long as their brain's still in one piece, they get back up again. But it's not the person you knew. It's just a body."

A really gross body, the kind of rotting, shambling nightmare that makes it easy to stay awake when it's your turn to keep watch, but Wash doesn't need the details. In deference to Daryl, she's skipping everything that might really get them in trouble here. (The pathogen, mostly. She's skipping the pathogen.) "And it doesn't stop, no matter what you do, unless you do something to its brain. That's why you always aim for the head. Nothing else counts."

god halo kind of has legit alien zombies but i THINK wash wouldn't know about them

[protocol]

Wash in the meanwhile might spin the knife idly as they walk, just some idle thing to keep his mind busy. The silence is comfortable, quiet comes easily to Wash, and he's content just to wait and let herself build up to talking about it. He wouldn't mind if she changed her mind, really. But then she starts, and Wash is listening, keeping his eyes ahead.

It sounds crazy, and that alone might have him tensing a little instinctively, just for the choice of word, sorry, Beth. But then -- when somebody dies, they don't stop. A chill runs down his spine. Zombies, like in those old holovids, that's the first thing to come to mind, and the more she talks the more it sounds exactly like that. He's never been the type of guy for that kind of thing, has never thought about what it'd be like if they were real, and he's trying to imagine it, trying to process it. It's difficult, until she talks about how that's why you always aim for the brain. It doesn't stop, otherwise, of course it doesn't, and that's something grounded and real and practical for it all to click into place in Wash's head, at least a little. That's why she fights like that. She doesn't fight people, she fights. What they become.

A sharp inhale. What can he offer her? Sympathy, solidarity. That's kind of the best he can do. It's clear he isn't thinking of questioning her, that she might be lying to him.

"That sounds like literal hell," he says. Another spin of his knife. Quiet, otherwise.

ahahahahahaha, damn

[littlemissfutility]

She doesn't realize he's tensing up, too focused on trying to explain this as clearly as she can. (And, maybe, idling over how she's going to explain it to Daryl if he finds out. He's going to teach me knife stuff. He has to know what I know already. Which, it turns out, isn't much of anything.) But she looks up when he speaks, gauging his answer.

"Sometimes it is," she agrees, her voice dropping low. It makes people do things--she wants to go on, but they're both better off if they focus on the walkers. Bring up the way it destroys the humanity in the humans left fighting, and then you have to explain how you know. Even if he doesn't ask, the idea of telling is there, and of thinking about it. She shakes her head minutely, trying to clear it. "There's more of them than us. But if you have people you trust..."

Like Daryl. And Maggie, and Rick, and Carol, and everyone else she's left behind, but it's Daryl that Wash knows. "Then it's not that bad. Nowhere is."

[protocol]

She doesn't have to say it, Wash is already imagining it, though he's trying not to let it go too far -- what he's picturing is probably a little too fueled by shitty holovids and old Earth stories he remembers from when he was a kid. But he's already built up an image of her world from what he's been able to put together. On the run, scrambling for weapons, scavenging. The way Daryl acts, his skill with hunting and traps. Clearly out of survival and necessity. He's quiet, listening, watching her out of the corner of his eye when she shakes her head, when her voice drops into something lower, softer.

A smile then, though.

"People like Daryl, huh?" He doesn't know Daryl all too well just yet, but from what little he's spoken to him it seems like he'd mostly rather be left alone -- but Wash of all people can't hold that against him. It's nice to know that she had someone there, looking out for her, teaching her, that someone she knows is here with her, too. "Hell's always a lot easier when you've people to go through it with."

For all the hell Wash's been through, Wash might do it all again, just knowing it's how he met most of his friends. A pause though, curious. There's nothing about this that seems too -- sensitive, and if they're already at this point, then holding back questions feels somewhat unnecessary.

"Why wouldn't Daryl have wanted you telling people, about that?"

[littlemissfutility]

"Yeah." She smiles back, everything about her brightening a little--her voice, her face, her posture. The fact that Daryl's here makes everything better (and considering that there are no walkers, it wasn't that bad to begin with). Wash gets it, she's sure of that. He doesn't always say a lot, but he listens, and he understands.

His question is a little trickier, though, brushing up against everything she's not going to mention.

"He doesn't want anyone to use it against us." No, not use. Maybe Wash won't notice, but the last thing she wants is for anybody to think there's anything to use. That's a secret she's leaving with Byerly, wherever he is. So she adds a half-lie, as easily as she might the truth. "To look at us differently, I guess."

It's about a lot more than looking, but Wash doesn't need to know that. Beth turns them back toward camp, adding, "He's kind of paranoid. I guess we all are, at home."

[protocol]

The way she brightens in response to that doesn't go unnoticed, it makes Wash brighten a little more in turn. For as miserable as her world seemed to be, it really is good to know that she had others there to survive with. And here, well, from how he's seen her around camp, how determined she seems to do her part where she can, she seems to have found people here, too.

Wash does notice, unfortunately. And inwardly, he picks at it, what is there to use about knowing they're from a world where the dead don't quite die? With the Barrayarans there isn't much risk, but with the Cetagandans, Wash finds the most likely theory. the thought of someone figuring out how that might work. Making use of it, somehow. Daryl had hated the Cetagandans, seemed even more paranoid than Wash himself was about them, and he wouldn't put it past him to assume that might happen. He doesn't think he's got the whole story here, but. It's enough for her to share this much. He nods.

"Not paranoia if they're really out to get you, so they say." A shrug, another smile, another idle spin of the knife in his hand. His voice softens a little. "Thanks for telling me that, Beth."

It's genuine. Daryl won't hear about this, not from him, and while it sounds like this is more of his secret than something Beth wants to hold back, he still appreciates her trusting him with it.

[littlemissfutility]

Beth shrugs off his thanks with a little smile. It's easier when people know, but it's only really easier on her--nobody likes imagining worlds where the dead rise up to tear you to pieces. She should probably be thanking him.

Well, thanking him as long as he doesn't mention her home to anybody else, but she doesn't think he will. Wash has always seemed like the kind of person you can trust with secrets; he's quiet, but in a thoughtful way, and he seems to weigh everything she says to him.

There's not much else worth saying right then, not until they're back on the soft-packed snow where they started. She pulls her knife again and glances sidelong at Wash, her expression a little lighter. "So--you're still gonna show me how to fight a real person, right?"

[protocol]

It's not exactly fun to imagine, no, but Wash likes knowing a bit more about her. He'd ask more, press more to get an even better picture, but he thinks she'll share with him more on her own whenever she feels comfortable, and Wash prefers not to pry, where he can. Zombies. Actual zombies. He'd doubt it ( and there's a voice at the back of his head, fucking hell, David, do you believe this too what's happened to you, but he ignores it ) but there's a truth in the way she'd said it, and it makes sense, given how he's seen her fight.

"That's the idea, yeah." He gives her a bit of a smile. "I think if you really do want to work at it, you'll be pretty good at it, someday -- but even with just a bit of practice, you'll pick something useful up."

That is, after all, the convenient thing about starting from scratch. The early improvements are always the most significant, and the easiest. There are some things he does want to ask, though. If only because he can teach her a few things quickly that might help her if she ever does go home.

"Tell me a bit more about the -- things you fight." He almost said zombies but that feels. Strangely dismissive. If they have a word for it, he'll pick it up when she mentions it. "You have to go for the head, right? How do you usually approach, where do you aim? Does injuring them otherwise slow them at all?"

[littlemissfutility]

Beth smiles back--pretty good sounds fine to her. Even a little skill can make the difference between living through a fight and bleeding out, and if there's one thing she has here, it's time to practice. Combine it with an idea of how to be quiet, how to get the jump on people who aren't expecting anything from you, and she's sure she can make a few knife skills go a long way.

"If you're lucky, they're behind a fence or something. Then you can get them through the chainlink." She turns away from him a little, so she can demonstrate without swiping and stabbing at him. "But usually, you just have to go up to them if you're gonna kill them. Fast, like--"

She imagines a walker a few paces from her and walks over steadily, the stab to its featureless face a smooth extension of the motion. And then another to her left and another. It's not that easy at home, of course; there, it often turns into a volley of frightened jabs. But in theory, this is what you do. "If you can't get their heads, you hit what you can, but nothing stops them for long."

[protocol]

He steps back to give her some room even when she turns away, watches with something curious in his eyes but also a quiet, studious intensity. Wash tries to imagine the things she's fighting, what he pictures are dead, shambling things, faces slack, arms held out, like all the zombies do in those old vids. That's probably not what it's really like, at all.

There is something to the way she moves. There's no technique in it, no, but there's still a familiarity when she stabs forward, and again, and again, though he does wonder if that's how easy it is, most likely not. But what he notices first, of course, is that she'd said ( like they do in all the vids ) that you have to get to the brain. He nods, and when she stops, he steps forward.

"The reason why you don't usually go for the head with a knife is because the skull is a lot tougher than you'd think." She might've noticed that, surely, if she's stabbed some of these things in the face like she seems to be miming here. He taps her lightly on the shoulder, a warning that she's moving up behind her, and then lets his hand shift under her arm. First thing he does is lightly adjust her grip, a reverse grip like she was using before, thumb on the back of the handle, and then he guides one hand to her elbow, the other under her forearm. "But if you need to get to the brain, there's maybe two sure fire ways -- though you do have to get close."

He guides her arm in the motion, slowly, drawing her arm back towards herself and then up. Not a straight stab, like she's been doing. And calmly as he's demonstrating it for her, "If you manage to hit under the jaw, for one. A clean thrust, right up under the chin. Avoids the skull completely, and the way jawbones work, it practically guides the blade right up into the brain."

Wash drops her arm, then, steps back again, tipping his head back and to the side slightly, tapping the spot right under his chin with the back of one knuckle, just to give her a better idea of what he's talking about. "Keep that in mind, when you get back home."

[littlemissfutility]

"Our skulls are," she says, watching the way he demonstrates with her arm. It's an unfamiliar way of doing it, but when she pictures the bones by themselves, she think she can see how it would work. What's the underside of your jaw except a bunch of skin and muscle, anyway? "But theirs aren't."

She doesn't have enough experience with stabbing the living in the face to know with any certainty. But breaking through a walker's bones is easy, easier than it maybe should be.

When he lets go of her, she tries the thrust again. Up from near her body, extended past her imaginary walker's mouth and into its brain. And a second time, trying to picture how it'd work in the middle of someplace more chaotic than this empty space. "So what's the other way?"

[protocol]

"I guess being technically dead might degrade their bodies some?" Didn't think about that, but that makes sense. He watches her practice the movement, nodding, she has the idea right enough, and knowing where to aim makes a world of difference. "Still, path of least resistance."

At her question, he pauses slightly, something flickering across his eyes as if -- considering. After a moment he relents, turning his head slightly so he can demonstrate, and while it's a little obscured by the hair at the back of his neck, if Beth hasn't noticed it before she'd certainly notice it now. There's metal, there, flush against his skin right at the base of his skull. An implant of some kind. And electrical scarring, spreading out from it like lightning, going far enough down to vanish under the collar of his coat. He taps his fingers against the back of his neck, just to indicate the area.

"Getting behind is a lot easier than getting close, if you can sneak up on them." Calm, even. He'll answer if she asks, at least in some regard. The implant isn't exactly hidden, after all, just not easily noticeable. "I'm guessing that severing the brain stem might work as well as destroying the brain, and you can get to it pretty easy back here."

Hence where the implant is located, really. Access to the brain.