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[oceantier]

[There's a blue lady on the comm's screen, not looking like she completely trusts it -- or that she quite likes being so visible. She has something to ask, though (as much as it feels like an exploitable vulnerability to ask) so she stays. And it's fair that others should see who's talking.]

Hello.

[. . . Knowing how to start is harder than anticipated, and considering the last time she was on the comm was to apologize, it feels even more awkward. She swears she can feel eyes looking at her. Unconsciously, her arms tuck into a cross.]

I heard there are "missions" every month. Where we're supposed to infiltrate, or something attacks.

. . . This time there was water in the city. In the pipes. And the sewers. But people say it's not always a city. Locations are different every time.

I need to be able to access some when it isn't there naturally.

I need . . . help.

[Silence for a moment. That was extremely uncomfortable to say, and the next question isn't much better for her.]

Also . . . I'd like to know what people do to find their own space. Where they can sometimes be alone. When . . . they need to.

. . . Thank you.

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[salutosinedelectat]

[ Aziraphale remembers her, of course. Hard not to - and not just because of her blue tint. ]

Suppose we all find our spaces.

[ He addresses her entirely naturally, no mention of the first time they met. ]

There are private cars for free use. They can be locked.

And there are spaces that, while accessible by everyone, tend to stay somewhat quiet at certain times of day.

[oceantier]

[Someone else who she really hopes saw her network apology. Her eyes betray a flicker of worry, darting over his face, searching--]

[He doesn't seem to be angry, though? At least not that he's showing.]

[She tries to answer as he does, not bringing it up in turn.]

Private cars . . . ?

[salutosinedelectat]

[ He's not angry. Whether that's on his angelic nature, naivity, or simple empathy is up for discussion.]

Yes. Or, well- car with the small sitting rooms. You can lock thee door, if you wish. It's one of the few ways you can make sure no one will bother you.

[oceantier]

[Ah, she'd been hoping he'd meant something else -- something that somehow she'd failed to notice. These she's familiar with. She gives a small nod, eyes slipping sideways.]

For some times, those are all right. But. They start to feel like a cell.

Even knowing I can get out.

[salutosinedelectat]

Ah.

[ Well, this is a little awkward. He really can understand how bothersome the lack of true privacy and the limited choices to find it can get to you after a while. And it's not that every space is exactly particularly comfortable (at least, to his standards). ]

I do suppose our choices are...rather limited.

But there are certain places, at certain hours, that do tend to be emptier. It's temporary, but perhaps you can find your spot then.

[oceantier]

[A small nod.] I know. Just.

I think that's one of the hardest parts of this place. Before . . . I at least had spaces I could call mine. Where there wasn't a time limit. And I could end that time when I wanted.

Here . . . whether anyone means it or not, we're at the mercy of everyone else. This place seems to try to have everything.

But not privacy.

[salutosinedelectat]

[ The angel finds himself more than lucky, then, with the way he can conjure up his own privacy if he so wishes, even though he doesn't usually do much more than retreat to his and Crowley's modified room, or take advantage of the quiet of the library when most of the passengers find themselves asleep, even if they don't exactly have a sun to guide their day.

So he thinks, for a moment, of how to offer her comfort. It's not that she's wrong, not really. ]

I do suppose you're right.

But I do find that most people seek the exact same thing, and, in their way, offer the respect of giving someone else the privacy they may also want. It's not perfect, but I do believe we can all do what's possible to respect each other in these trying times.