"It's--well, I suppose it's all right. If someone was in front of me dressed like Anne Boleyn, I'd question that. But...2009? You're not joking are you? Dear God. But under the circumstances, I must say that it's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Wesker."
She allowed it. She knew that she shouldn't, that Mother would be fluttering about her like a steel butterfly in disapproval. But truly, the past few days have been joyous and painful in equal measure, she doesn't have the heart to correct him or not allow it. "I must say that I'm glad to hear it. Back home, it wasn't valued so highly. I can speak French and Latin as well as read German, ancient Greek, and Spanish." And there was a small chuckle to herself. "Cal was less than pleased to find out that I could read and understand the works of Freud."
And Rose brought a hand to her mouth with an expression of shock. "How...extraordinary! I'd heard of magic, Houdini and the like, but nothing like the magic out of fairy tales. Which is the kind of magic you're speaking of, Dr. Wesker?" Something without a name tells her that he's being sincere, though she has no idea how that might happen. Women's intuition, perhaps?
And the marvels fail to cease. "How strange! Strange and terrifying. They're a part of everyday life, then, not like God and Jesus, prayed to from afar? But," She took a deep breath. "may I ask of second chances...I'm not dead. I know I'm not, I was standing on the deck of the Carpathia. That's the last thing I remember. Surely I'd remember collapsing dead, wouldn't I?"
The being seems almost too serene. Like there ought to be a great deal more ceremony after being fetched from the ocean as a squid. But she takes the bag and looks inside: a woolen coat, a--what looked like a ladies' undergarment, and a workman's denim with black boots. She supposes it could be worse, but what of the undergarment?
no subject
She allowed it. She knew that she shouldn't, that Mother would be fluttering about her like a steel butterfly in disapproval. But truly, the past few days have been joyous and painful in equal measure, she doesn't have the heart to correct him or not allow it. "I must say that I'm glad to hear it. Back home, it wasn't valued so highly. I can speak French and Latin as well as read German, ancient Greek, and Spanish." And there was a small chuckle to herself. "Cal was less than pleased to find out that I could read and understand the works of Freud."
And Rose brought a hand to her mouth with an expression of shock. "How...extraordinary! I'd heard of magic, Houdini and the like, but nothing like the magic out of fairy tales. Which is the kind of magic you're speaking of, Dr. Wesker?" Something without a name tells her that he's being sincere, though she has no idea how that might happen. Women's intuition, perhaps?
And the marvels fail to cease. "How strange! Strange and terrifying. They're a part of everyday life, then, not like God and Jesus, prayed to from afar? But," She took a deep breath. "may I ask of second chances...I'm not dead. I know I'm not, I was standing on the deck of the Carpathia. That's the last thing I remember. Surely I'd remember collapsing dead, wouldn't I?"
The being seems almost too serene. Like there ought to be a great deal more ceremony after being fetched from the ocean as a squid. But she takes the bag and looks inside: a woolen coat, a--what looked like a ladies' undergarment, and a workman's denim with black boots. She supposes it could be worse, but what of the undergarment?