You're welcome. [ There's another smile before she considers. ] Ones with chocolate on them are far better, but this one's still good. It's just like nuts and oats and stuff.
[ Honestly, she's not going to turn her nose up at a granola bar because it doesn't have chocolate on it. Besides, it's still sweet anyways — with some kind of syrup or honey (maple syrup, in this case. Sounds about right for Canada). And while he keeps his, Kate finishes unwrapping her half and eats as they walk, taking little bites here and there — taking her time with it, as if to make it last.
She nods her head and makes a soft sound in the affirmative as she chews in answer, then pausing slightly — the sticky-sweetness of the granola turning bitter in her mouth. It's there in her expression for a moment — enough to tell that things aren't... entirely 'going well'. There's another long pause and she finally tries to swallow, forcing the mouthful down. She's already spoken to Mr Goodsir about it, and she already knows fine well the dangers of a certain terrible mutineer — she's been fully warned by him.
But... she has questions, too. As much as she knows to avoid Mr Hickey, there was plenty he'd said that... arguably made sense, even if it might have all been hidden behind other motives. ]
Can... I ask you something important? [ Much like she respects Mr Goodsir's thoughts and advice, she respects the Lieutenant's, too. And while it's... not a nice thing to ask about, it is important.
She's so careful in asking, though. Or maybe it's why she especially has to ask. She knows the Expedition were stuck... for years. Starving and sick with poisoned food, out in the frozen nothingness. ]
Everyone's... gone. I've heard the road out of Milton to the south's all blocked up— [ A tunneled road through the mountains. Totally impassible. ] and there isn't any other ways out of town. No one's come for us, even if this is present times.
[ No rescue helicopters, no planes. Nothing. Even if someone doesn't know they're all here, no one's come for the people who lived here, either. No one knows they're dead, right? ]
no subject
[ Honestly, she's not going to turn her nose up at a granola bar because it doesn't have chocolate on it. Besides, it's still sweet anyways — with some kind of syrup or honey (maple syrup, in this case. Sounds about right for Canada). And while he keeps his, Kate finishes unwrapping her half and eats as they walk, taking little bites here and there — taking her time with it, as if to make it last.
She nods her head and makes a soft sound in the affirmative as she chews in answer, then pausing slightly — the sticky-sweetness of the granola turning bitter in her mouth. It's there in her expression for a moment — enough to tell that things aren't... entirely 'going well'. There's another long pause and she finally tries to swallow, forcing the mouthful down. She's already spoken to Mr Goodsir about it, and she already knows fine well the dangers of a certain terrible mutineer — she's been fully warned by him.
But... she has questions, too. As much as she knows to avoid Mr Hickey, there was plenty he'd said that... arguably made sense, even if it might have all been hidden behind other motives. ]
Can... I ask you something important? [ Much like she respects Mr Goodsir's thoughts and advice, she respects the Lieutenant's, too. And while it's... not a nice thing to ask about, it is important.
She's so careful in asking, though. Or maybe it's why she especially has to ask. She knows the Expedition were stuck... for years. Starving and sick with poisoned food, out in the frozen nothingness. ]
Everyone's... gone. I've heard the road out of Milton to the south's all blocked up— [ A tunneled road through the mountains. Totally impassible. ] and there isn't any other ways out of town. No one's come for us, even if this is present times.
[ No rescue helicopters, no planes. Nothing. Even if someone doesn't know they're all here, no one's come for the people who lived here, either. No one knows they're dead, right? ]
Are... we trapped here?