triangularity | AUs of our AUs: A timeline diverges, and a would-be queen leaves her kingdom behind.

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hadand

AUs of our AUs: A timeline diverges, and a would-be queen leaves her kingdom behind.

Hadand knew he was here. She waited in the throne room, dressed in her family's green rather than the royal crimson, a black sash at her waist. Cama stood by in Shield Arm position, having had both the faith in Hadand and Evred and the air of authority necessary to take over the Guard and back Hadand's orders. When Evred finally reached the throne room, his arrival heralded as much by the people's gasps and murmurs as by any formal announcement, she saluted, fist to heart.

Everything blurred together after that. Evred got her alone at first opportunity, taking Hadand by the hands once they were safely shut into the royal nursery where they had grown up together. "You held the kingdom. There's nothing greater anyone could ask."

It struck her suddenly, how tall and straight he'd grown. Only his expressions distinguished him from his late father. There were new lines around his eyes since last she'd seen him. Even at twenty, he was old enough and wise enough that Hadand could easily trust him with a kingdom. She would trust Evred with anything, herself included. He could never care for her romantically, of course, and she stamped out any faint tendrils of attraction before they could take root and grow strong.

"Sponge--" she started, cutting herself off at use of the childhood nickname. "Evred, I know you have far more than your share of worries right now, but could I ask you to take on one more?" At his nod of assent, an unspoken 'of course' implied in the look that accompanied it, she continued. "There are whispers in the palace. Eyes follow me, and people stop speaking when I enter a room. I've no wish to burden you, but things changed after my father went home to Choread Elgaer. I fear it may mean more trouble coming."

He squeezed her hands briefly before releasing them. "Hadand," and he paused here to consider his words, "you know that I trust you completely, and know you too well to believe any testimony against you." The one bit of broken trust between them had been long-since forgiven, though never forgotten. Evred loved her like a sister. He had always trusted and looked up to her, in a way he never had his own sibling.

"That means there is false testimony," Hadand concluded, as he'd known she would. "Lies to further muddy the waters, as if things weren't bad enough. What do they say?"

Evred's mouth twisted. "You were implicated in my brother's assassination." At her look of outrage, he continued, "I doubt they can get you executed for it, but they will almost certainly have you imprisoned in the numbers they are amassing to back their story.

"Hadand, I want you to go. Like Inda." He never mentioned Inda aloud anymore, but Hadand knew her youngest brother was always in Evred's thoughts. The name alone was proof of his seriousness. "I want you out of reach of this, and there will be no honorable return to Iasca Leror. It is all I can do for you. You deserve to be Hadand-Gunvaer, and hailed as Deheldegarthe by the people. You earned that place. You defended the throne with your own two hands, and I had thought to ask..."

He trails off momentarily, before shaking his head. "Go to Lindeth Harbor. Sail on the ship with least ties to home."

Hadand had remained stoic throughout the speech, but that last word, home, broke her facade. Evred could see how lost she felt now, rather than just surmising it. She knew nothing of space travel. When Barend came home to speak of his time aboard ships, it sounded like nonsense to her. And Iasca Leror was, of course, her home. Hadand could recall no time when she had not known that she would be its queen one day. Her life was here. Her family, what little of it remained to her, was here.

Her family.

With Hadand gone, that would leave not a single one of her parents' children alive and within the kingdom. Her mother would be left with the two girls she'd raised to wed the two sons now lost to her, and not even any letters from a daughter in the royal city as consolation.

That was unacceptable. "If I go," she said quietly, "I need a promise from you. As my friend, my family, and my king."

"Anything," he promised, "if it is within my power to do."

Hadand breathed deep before she spoke again, chin jutting out stubbornly. "Bring my brother home. Swear it to me, and swear it to my mother. Write to my mother from time to time. Tell her I escaped safely. Pass along my love, if you can manage it." She reached out, very lightly touching Evred's arm. Her voice was very soft. "Inda's situation was nothing like mine. He refused a whipping after contrived boyhood dishonor, not because he was afraid but because he did not deserve it. Find a way to set it aside. The revelation of your uncle's other treachery should help. Find Inda, and set things right."

He said he would, and so, she left.

As luck would have it, Hadand found the most foreign ship of all, one whose ties were in an entirely different part of the galaxy. Hadand pled her case with Captain Janeway of the Voyager and was allowed aboard. It pained her to leave Iasca Leror and know that there would truly be no return, but at least now there can be no second guessing.

Hadand can never go home.

She tries to settle into her new life aboard ship, the greenest of new recruits but willing to learn. Hadand cautiously works her way into the crew trying to find a place and a purpose after losing the only ones she'd known.

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It was purely luck that had Voyager passing by at that particular time, the exact moment when the young woman needed to leave. Captain Janeway hadn't taken much convincing to allow her passage. The situation had seemed grim and as it was somewhat similar to others they had met -- such as Neelix and Kes and Kallen, though no one remembered her, and even Seven -- the captain had readily accepted. The only caveat was finding a place for Hadand to help out.

Neelix performed his job as morale officer as well as he ever did, leading her around, introducing her to the crew, and telling her what life was like on the starship. He also told her what little he knew of Starfleet and the Earth they were returning to, but as soon as Chakotay could take her off Neelix's hands, he corrected a few of those misconceptions with a warm smile.

The Commander -- whose rank insignia was the provisional bar given to all of the Maquis when they joined Voyager's crew -- is calm and slow with her, helping her as he can when he's off-duty and needs to rescue her from Neelix. Today, they're taking another walk around the ship and he intends to show her the holodeck. Maybe that will help her find a little tranquility while she settles in.

"I hope Neelix wasn't too overwhelming today," he says as they walk. "He means well, but I know he can be hard to deal with sometimes."

The enthusiasm with which Neelix fulfills his duties is terribly jarring to Hadand, whose people live steeped in tradition and protocol, with a propensity for secrets. Their joys are expressed to those closest to them, of course, but never with quite such fervor or exuberance. The Commander's presence is always soothing in its aftermath. "His dedication to his duties and willingness to help are commendable," she replies diplomatically, saying nothing by way of criticism. The tiny smile she gives Chakotay implies her agreement, though.

Hadand is well aware of what Chakotay has been doing The casual check-ins after her time with Neelix, the time reserved with no prompting on her part for showing Hadand around the ship... Chakotay's support comes in a form both familiar and greatly appreciated. She may verbally thank him one day. In the meantime, Chakotay regularly finds himself the recipient of grateful smiles.

She may know nothing of space travel, but she has fallen into Star Fleet protocols more easily than Chakotay's Maquis did at first. Her background is miitary, leadership, and diplomacy. Hadand may miss her own traditions but finds it easy enough to fix the new ones in her mind.

Hadand can assimilate. Feeling at home is another matter. "I confess," she admits to Chakotay when they reach a corridor empty of other crew members, "that I still feel a bit at loose ends. I was accustomed to hours of drill every day, my own and that of the guards or the girls in training at the palace, usually followed by hours of work or study. All my days were full except Restday. Even then I was out of bed by dawn for knife practice. I worry that I am not being as useful here as I ought to be." And she dreadfully misses having someone with whom to practice the Odni.

Chakotay well knows how difficult Neelix can be to handle, even when he's at his best. Maybe even more so then. Neelix means well, but he's always had a little too much enthusiasm, a little too much heart. At least he's gotten a lot better than the first few days where he turned the Captain's personal dining room into a kitchen. Chakotay makes a note to tell Hadand about that sometime.

Chakotay enjoys their time together, small though it is so far. He likes her smile and often she'll find that her smile brings out one of his. It's so odd to think that only a handful of years ago, he was a terrorist, angry at both the Cardassians and the Federation and taking that anger out on both. Now he's one of Voyager's best diplomats and her First Officer. Funny how time changes things.

"Maybe we just haven't found a good place to use your talents," Chakotay suggests, pondering where they really could place her as they turn the corner to the entrance of one of the holodecks. It's currently off, which works well enough for his purposes. They can figure out what program to run or make once inside.

"Don't tell her I said this," he continues, lowering his voice as the doors part and he leads the way onto the holodeck, "but you might be able to convince B'Elanna to practice with you." If she's lucky. B'Elanna's been very good about accepting her Klingon heritage lately, though, so there's always a chance she'll be willing to work with someone new.

The doors hiss shut behind them and he turns to see Hadand. The bare holodeck isn't impressive at all like this, but the technology itself looks like nothing else they have on Voyager. Unless, she's been paying attention in sickbay, where there are holo-emitters for the Doctor. She hasn't needed to see him yet, but it's only a matter of time before the Doctor comes calling. He's already been after Chakotay for keeping her away, but the Commander had wanted her to settle in first before they tossed a holographic doctor at her.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but this is called the holodeck. It's where a lot of us spend at least a portion of our free time. The computer has a number of programs saved and we can even build one for you, if you'd like. It can be anything, a place or a representation of a story you know. Whatever it is, it's interactive. Everything will look and feel real. It's really fun once you get used to it."

They could even make a program of her home if she wanted it, as a way to remember the people and places she misses.

"I specialized in commanding defense at home, but I believe Lieutenant Tuvok may consider me a little too violent to approve of me as a security officer." She grins at the recollection of Tuvok's expression when she first boarded, weapons hidden all over her in addition to the ones strapped in plain sight at her waist.

Hadand considers the idea of practicing with members of the Voyager's crew, like B'Elanna. The Odni has traditionally been the trump card of Marlovan women. Teaching it to a non-Marlovan or to a man was a taboo never undertaken lately. I am never going home, she thinks to herself. This time it sounds like an assurance as well as a curse. "I would be glad to teach anyone willing. I do miss the Odni, and there is only so much I can do without a partner." Smiling, she confesses, "I appreciate that you do not find the idea of knives primitive. I thought your people might. Of course I learned to use any weapon we had access to on Iasca Leror, but the older traditional forms were always my favorites." Hadand learned every weapon with a singlemindedness borne of the knowledge that the planet's capitol would one day be entirely her responsibility to defend. The queen was in charge of defense, the king of battles in a larger sense. Hadand would never be queen now, and her lessons could well go unused. "Here, it would serve as exercise and something of home."

She needs the exercise; short and stocky, Hadand is all curves in spite of her muscle and extensive physical training. Sometime around puberty handsprings became much more difficult. It would be so easy for her to gain weight and lose strength, were she to become lazy. But she needs the peace and the familiarity more. Yes, peace, for despite being a means of fighting, the practice itself has always been one she finds calming. Hadand craves this bit of home, the almost meditative state of movements so well ingrained that they are second nature. Her knives are an extension of her, and Hadand never needs to think about where they are or how to use them.

Eyes widening when he explains the holodeck, Hadand moves to get a closer look at the technology. Iasca Leror never had anything but the barest essentials when it came to technology. Sartor trusted no people so military with knowledge or other useful things. Hadand knows that she received limited exposure to even the innovations common within her own system. The Voyager is in another class entirely. "I have never seen a hologram. Show me something now, if you don't mind, and maybe another day we could program at least a part of the palace where I grew up."

Not the people, especially not at first. That would be too painful. For now, Hadand would just like another glimpse of stone halls, of banners, of open courtyards and the view from the walls.

Chakotay's lips twist upwards in amusement at her words. "Were we on the Enterprise with their Klingon Chief of Security, he would have considered you more than worthy of helping just by looking at you." Tuvok is, admittedly, serious in a different way from Worf, but Chakotay has no doubts that Worf would have appreciated her warrior background. He likely would have challenged her to fights many times. "We might favor phasers as Starfleet officers, but many of us know how to use other weapons." Ones like knives, guns, bat'leths, or other Klingon weapons.

While Hadand is busy examining the holo-emitters, Chakotay addresses the computer. He's already got an idea of what to show her. After her words about knives and weapons, he thinks he can show her a few she might find interesting. "Computer. One Klingon--" He glances at Hadand to see her reaction. "--and two bat'leths." Within seconds, one Klingon appears holding a bat'leth. The Klingon doesn't move for the moment, which is nice, but that won't last. The other bat'leth appears in Chakotay's hands and he offers it to Hadand, showing her how to hold it.

"I don't like to fight unless I have to, I usually spend a lot of my free time in meditation, but I might be able to practice," Chakotay says with a smile. "You could come in here to practice alone, if you'd rather. We'll have to assign you a time to use the holodecks, but it could work."

Part of him fully expects her to ask why a pacifist would be on a military ship and also why one would know how to properly hold a weapon like a bat'leth. If she does, he'll answer. Now that she's a member of their crew and on her way to Earth with them, he doesn't have to worry about bending the Prime Directive around her. She'll hear enough stories from the rest of the crew, especially the Maquis members if she's astute enough to pick up on their conversations.

A simple smile is Hadand's only response to what she takes as a compliment, and then she is quickly distracted by the person and weapons that appear at Chakotay's request.

Her eyes light up at the sight of it, gaze intent on the entirely unfamiliar design of bladed weapon. "Three handholds?" she asks, taking it from him and surprised by the weight in her hands. It isn't just a visual simulation. This feels like a real weapon, and once Chakotay corrects her grip, she shifts her arms experimentally, trying to get a feel for the way the bat'leth might be used.

Hadand does not call him out on his pacifism being at odds with his role here or his knowledge of the bat'leth. It doesn't sound strange to her at all, that one who dislikes fighting might be in a military position. Being prepared for defense is a basic tenet of Marlovan life. Her sister figure, Tdor, for instance, is all about building rather than tearing down, but she went through her years in training the same way Hadand had. Every first son was heir, every second son was the land's defender in a Marlovan noble family. Women commanded defense of the castle itself. Many were not fighters by nature, but all of them learned to defend themselves and their homes.

"I don't enjoy fighting," Hadand states clearly. "I enjoy knowing how to use a weapon, and knowing my knives so well that they feel like extensions of my body. I enjoy drill, spars, demonstrations, and training. Real fights, where something important hangs in the balance, are far too serious to be fun." Only once has Hadand faced a real fight with true consequences should she lose; all the rest of her life was about preparing for the likelihood that she would someday. Her years of training stood her in good stead as Hadand and her two knives stood between peace and civil war. She saved the throne for Evred, and that fact alone made all the hours she put in over the years worthwhile.

She tries to explain why her knife practice is so important to her. "The Odni is like meditation for me. Especially without an opponent, going through forms is calming. It has been years since I last needed to consciously think about the movements during my own morning practice. Only when teaching others." Which she'll gladly do, if she has volunteers.

"Having a larger space in which to move would be good, but I don't need to be alone for it." Not all the time, certainly. There was something a little lonely about every practice being completed on her own, and her style is no secret here. Even its original purpose is no longer a secret.

Once Hadand has a good idea of how to hold the bat'leth, Chakotay steps back to give her room. Regarding the Klingon as he listens, he wonders how she might handle more Klingon techniques. Part of what she says sounds exactly like what he would expect to hear from a full-blooded Klingon. The rest sounds like a normal human. He nods, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"The Klingon people have a technique called Mok'bara," he begins, turning his attention back to Hadand. "They use it as a basis for their hand-to-hand and weapons combat, but it can also be used for meditation. I've heard the forms are used to clear the mind. I've never actually learned it myself, but... it might not be a bad idea." Honestly, if he and Hadand learned it together, it might actually be interesting and maybe a little bit fun.

Speaking of things they could do together: "I would be happy to learn," he answers, that smile playing with the corners of his lips. He's always found her to be an engaging and interesting person and now is no different. That's probably why he's decided to spend so much time with her. Well, one reason, anyway.

"Computer, show mok'bara techniques." With the order given, the Klingon finally moves. Using the bat'leth as an extension of his arms, just like what Hadand was talking about just now, the Klingon settles into the Mok'bara technique. Chakotay watches the sequence for a while, thinking back to his own past, his people, his colony and tribe. Most people they meet never find out that half the crew wasn't chosen to run Voyager, that half of them fought against the Federation if the Federation fought against them, or that Chakotay's people had rejected the modern life for a long, long time. His joining Starfleet had been a big deal, a blow against his father that they never recovered from. Not making amends with his father was his biggest regret to date... and the reason he had joined the Maquis.

Maybe Hadand will learn more about him than most.

"The holodeck can be as large as you want it to be. The holo-emitters can project anything you can program into the computer system. If you want a larger space, we can certainly create a larger space."

"On Iasca Leror," Hadand confesses very quietly, "the Odni is a secret of Marlovan women. Our last resort. Its original purpose was to allow us to defeat larger, stronger," male is heavily implied here, though Hadand refrains from stating it outright, "opponents, and it serves the purpose well. Its use allowed me to save the throne for a man who grew up loving me as a sister. Evred, the current king, knows the style, as did my youngest brother. I taught Inda only at my mother's request, and many of my countrywomen would have condemned me for it. He taught Evred the basics."

Clearly, she declares, "I would not offer the knowledge at all if we were to return. Here, I see no need for secrets." Out in open space, Hadand is not a political figure charged with defending the entire royal city. She is not navigating multi-layered politically fraught waters, and she has no need to worry about attempted coups or assassinations. All she wants is this piece of home, and there is no reason to deny herself its comfort. "I'd like to teach you, if you're willing."

Hadand's eager gaze attaches itself intently to the Klingon hologram when Chakotay orders him to run through techniques, not a single glance spared for the friend who brought her here. She memorizes the sequence, and then moves through it herself.

She may move very slowly, but there is no hesitance in the fluid shifting of Hadand's body. Speed will come easily enough, once she has fixed the forms in her mind and her muscle memory. For now, it is much more important to learn how this feels in all her limbs, in her shoulders and her back and her abdomen. Hadand draws from similarities to her own style but is also careful to note the many differences. "Computer, please repeat those techniques," she requests, wanting another look to pick out nuances she will have missed on first viewing.

"I wouldn't mind the throne room or a courtyard," Hadand tells Chakotay with a grin. She and Inda, and later Evred, used the room as their training space for forbidden teachings of the Odni. No one entered it most days, and certainly not during the early hours of the morning, before day broke and everyone began their day. That hour before dawn, it had been hers, her space for teaching the boys she loved to defend themselves. "No people."

At least not yet. Later, she might program in someone like Shendan, a friend but not one of those closest to her heart, with whom to demonstrate the Odni at its full potential.

Perceptive as ever, Chakotay picks up on the implications of that statement, but doesn't make a comment on it. He finds every culture fascinating, how each one differs. This was the sort of thing that interested him back in the day, when he was still a student at the Academy and happy with Starfleet.

"I can understand why." Why in all cases. "I would be honored if you felt you could teach me." He's a very good student when he's interested enough. This? This would be something worthy of his time. "Maybe in the future, I could teach you a little about my people." His people, not the crew of this starship, but his actual people. His tribe. The two are vastly different. Of course, the talk of his people might bring with it the question of how he came to be first officer of Voyager, but they'll cross that when they get there.

Watching her learn Mok'bara is like watching a dancer. Or maybe like watching Kathryn be a scientist. Chakotay can tell that this is important to Hadand and so he steps back and lets her work. She's lovely, graceful, and a very good student. Aside from the Mok'bara technique, she's already mastering voice command of Voyager. She doesn't have an official rank yet -- yet being the key; she might end up a provisional officer like half the crew and if that happens and Chakotay has his way, despite any misgivings he has towards Tuvok, she'll serve as a security officer. He feels that would be the best use of her talents, but hasn't mentioned it yet so as not to get her hopes either up or down -- but they programmed her voice into the system so she could at least use things like the replicators.

"Whenever you'd like, you can tell me the dimensions, what it all looked like, and we can program it in for you." This wouldn't be the first time someone had brought a piece of home to Voyager and if it will help Hadand settle in, Chakotay doesn't see the harm in it. "No people." That he can definitely respect.

That by now familiar smile of gratitude is once again directed his way. This time, Hadand follows it with the words themselves. Her voice hushed, she offers Chakotay a simple, heartfelt, "Thank you."

The promise of a partner for knife practice makes Hadand feel so much more at home. She has taught before, but always for the other person's sake. Chakotay's offer is a gift to her rather than the reverse. Hadand resolves to fully appreciate it.

And her closest friendships at home were marked by silence, by knowing one another well enough to read between all the words penned or spoken. Tdor was like that. She and Hadand could speak with a glance, with a sentence related to a different topic entirely. Evred too, usually. Hadand knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. On the Voyager, there is no one Hadand knows so well that she can hear all the things they leave out of conversation, nor who knows her well enough to pick up on her own subtleties. She has had to become more blunt here. Hadand is grateful for the chance to learn more about Chakotay, who has made such efforts to welcome her. "I would appreciate learning about your people," she tells him, her sincerity obvious.

Watching the Mok'bara sequence again, Hadand repeats the movements herself, once at her previous pace to correct any small errors, and once more at something closer to full speed.

She looks forward to programing a piece of the palace. "All this metal... I miss the stones of our castles." To be surrounded by stone walls again would be a blessing, even if the stones are no more real than the weapon gripped in Hadand's hands right now. It feels real enough. Perhaps the walls will as well. "I will write some notes and maybe make sketches if those would help." For the throne room, with its greater amount of detail, those seem like they may be necessary.

Chakotay can see why Hadand would be thanking him; in his eyes, though, he should be the one thanking her for her offer to teach him more of herself and her culture. Chakotay is always an eager student, but he would never push her for something she did not want. The fact that she cares enough to teach him means a lot to him, as well.

Someday Chakotay and Hadand will likely get to the point where words will no longer be necessary. It took Chakotay and Kathryn years to get to that point, but they managed it. Now the command team simply speaks with looks a good deal of the time. With as much as he is coming to know Hadand, he can see himself learning to read her the way he reads Kathryn and perhaps she will read him the way Kathryn does. Most of the crew knows each other well enough to say some things without speaking; most still require words. There are a handful of people who know each other on a deeper level -- Tom & B'Elanna, Tom & Harry, Chakotay and Kathryn, Tuvok and Kathryn (though Tuvok rarely avoids using words, as far as Chakotay has seen). Perhaps Hadand will find somewhere to fit into that. Neelix didn't and neither did Seven, but Neelix relies more on words than most people on Voyager and Seven...

Seven is Borg. Chakotay makes a note to warn Hadand about Seven today. She shouldn't be left unaware of Seven's presence or mannerisms.

Shaking off thoughts of their resident Borg, Chakotay watches her for a minute longer. Stones and castles. That can be arranged. "That would help," he answers. "For now, I think I might be able to fix that. It won't be the same, but it might help. Computer, create an ancient stone Scottish castle."

Instead of asking for clarification, which was what he had expected, the computer plops them into the courtyard of an ancient castle. It likely isn't anything like what she's used to, but maybe it's similar enough and has enough stone to help her acclimate better.

"This is from one Earth's ancient castles," he explains, glancing around at the walls, the fog rolling in from the ocean that isn't far away, and the birds flying overhead. Again, he doesn't speak of Earth as his personal home. It isn't. It's close, but it isn't exactly home to him anymore. "I thought it might help to have a transition state."

Hadand inhales sharply at the sudden shifting of their location, and her body goes visibly tense for just a moment. She calms very quickly when she sees where they are now, a broad smile spreading unthinkingly across her face. It isn't the same, of course. The grey stone walls are not the rich golden brown of her home, and there are clear architectural differences. But it's close enough. Hadand laughs.

Chakotay has done enough for her that thanks would go stale in her mouth if she kept repeating them over and over. Her response should be evidence enough of Hadand's appreciation. "It does help. I used to drill in courtyards like this, though of course the castle itself was different."

Her gaze stays on Chakotay only long enough to answer him. As soon as Hadand finishes speaking, her eyes dart in all directions, eagerly taking in the sky, the birds, the castle itself, the scent of the air. It's not Iasca Leror. It isn't the royal palace of the Montrei-Vayir, where she grew up among the family into which she was to marry, nor Tenthen Castle where she was born. The world is different, the creatures and air and animals, not just the castle itself. Even so, Hadand is comfortable here.

She realizes only now, as tension slides away, just how starved she's been for something familiar. A weapon in her hands even if it isn't her knives, open sky above, and stone walls all around. Hadand's shoulders relax. Her feet shift to something that feels more natural and less forced, somewhere between the new Mok'bara stance and a familiar Odni one. She will learn Mok'bara properly, but right now Hadand just wants to feel at home, or to approach as near as she can come to that feeling.

A good deal of tension in Chakotay releases at Hadand's obvious delight, her response to the change of scenery more positive than he had anticipated. She seems to be doing as well as she can be, but to see that bright smile brings a small but very happy one to his face in return. He likes seeing happiness and contentment on the faces of those around him, more so when his personal feelings become more, well, personal.

"This castle is from one of the old kingdoms of Earth, one that eventually became a country before the world government was formed," he speaks, watching her settle into the new environment. Eventually, he steps forward so he can gaze through a hole in the stones, out across the castle grounds. Past the fog, the ocean rolls, invisible to the naked eye for now. "That country was called Scotland. Anytime you have holodeck time scheduled, you can come back here and request this setting."

Perhaps someday he'll show her some of the programs already saved to the computer. For now, though, this is enough. He doesn't need to overwhelm her so soon.

"We can go take a walk sometime, if you'd like. I'm not familiar with this particular setting at all."

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/writes you a novel