yorisearching | IC Contact for Inugami

[She'd considered saying "while you're here" instead of invoking unknown errands, but she really doesn't want to push Rinzler into leaving yet if she can help it. From the sound of it there's no way to know when it might be safe to speak in person again, and he also has no phone.

Even if he gets his phone back, messages won't be particularly safe. Alternate routes. All they have is pencil and paper, but it might do. The bulletin board is far too public. They'd talked before about how conveniently close their school lockers are.

She leans into his uncertainty, trying to store the feeling of his warmth for later.]

If you are going to be with your admin, maybe I could leave you messages on paper in your locker.

[Reconsiders. It's not out of the question Clu would want to see Rinzler's locker one of these days, or use it for something at just the wrong moment.]

Or in my locker? I could make sure you know the combination and you could check when it wouldn't delay you from anything, couldn't you?

[The locks seem to function on a purely mechanical system, not proof of identity. Yori supposes they have to, with no simple way for Users to transmit that kind of proof. It's less than wholly secure, but it does leave options open.

It means Clu will be able to get Yori's locker number from Rinzler if he ever asks, given that Rinzler can't lie to his admin, but she has a gym locker too now. Losing the other is an acceptable risk for the method of contact.]

[Rinzler doesn't offer much feedback to the lean, but it's a fair bet that the unhappy tension coiled in his hunch was there already.

Paper messages send uneasy loops of risks and shouldn't running through his processing, but after a long pause, the enforcer nods. He could check. Their lockers are nearby. Whether he ought to—whether it was fair for either of them to make that sort of error... that's harder.

But he'll try.]

[Leaning against a tense, unhappy shoulder is more familiar than not. The main difference is that she'd have known how to make Tron relax a little. There's nothing to comfort Rinzler with now except staying by him while she can.

The nod is enough relief that her acknowledgement comes out as a sigh. Even with the admin's presence Rinzler's doing the best he can under the orders. Can she ask more?]

Thanks.

[She thinks better of pushing too hard about return messages from Rinzler. If he can, he will. In the meantime she'll have some proof whether he is well by the fact of the notes she leaves being read or not.

A fragile connection and not much comfort. But enough to let her hope she and Rinzler can make progress before they have to confront Clu.

Eventually the admin will notice her. Not yet. She's not going to make things that much more difficult for Rinzler before she really has to.]

Rinzler...

[Words come reluctantly. Yori rubs a fist across her knee.]

I think I need to tell you what little I've figured out, but I don't want to say anything that will hurt you.

Do you want to hear about Encom yet?

[Unsteady rumbling fills the pause. Yori's thanks feels badly misapplied, but the tags of not enough/not permitted are clashing too much to choose direction. He'll check for her updates unless he can't. Simulating future possibilities has rarely proven beneficial for the enforcer.

Rinzler exhales instead, noise evening a little. Yori isn't done, though, and his eyes drag up to her face at the address.

Something she needs to tell him. Something she's figured out. There's a tightness in his throat, something fractured and desperate and far too deep (~~too scared~~) to attribute solely to the nausea of locked permissions. Encom. Fingers curl at his side, lights dimming noticeably, but Rinzler makes himself output a jerky nod. He trusts Yori. He'd accept her data. And if she thinks it's important...]

[How much to say, how to phrase it, how much Rinzler wants to hear and how much his programming will even begin to let him accept...Yori's been doing her best to juggle calculations with very little solid data. She waits a breath, watching the telltale dimness of his circuits, the tight anxiety in his face, as though another word might break him.

She can't bear the risk he might shatter. Not too much at once. Is there anything that wouldn't be too much? Yori edits and re-edits. Personal data. What truth she can give.]

Memories are difficult. I remember having a lot of family in Encom. Friends, my sisters, people who cared about me.

One program I remember falling in love with.

[It seems like such a long time ago, now, with captivity and triumph behind her. Such a short time compared to the span Rinzler reports. How much was left of the Tron she knew even before Clu stepped in? Impossible to guess. Yori swallows hard.]

You remind me of him. I know you're not him, but I'm not the Yori who fell in love back then; she was never human, she was never here.

[Yori reaches across, curls her left hand around the clenched fist of his right.]

I'm glad for the chance to come here, to meet you and be your friend, Rinzler. I care about you a lot already. I'd like the chance to know you better, but I don't know if it's going to happen.

[She hesitates. Is that true enough? Is it going to break into realizations he isn't ready for? Will Rinzler come back to her when he knows more and say she lied, she should have told him more? She hopes not. This is the best she can do, so it must serve.]

That's my point, I suppose. If we can't see each other in person. Don't forget that I care about you and I don't want you to be hurt.

[Whether he remembers more of being Tron or not, and whether she survives this mess for long or not. For now, at least, Clu can't tamper with his memories. Rinzler can choose whether to remember her words.

Half of it is a message meant to comfort Tron in case she dies and then he reclaims old memories. Yori doesn't know whether to hope Rinzler catches on to that subtlety or not. If she knew what would comfort Rinzler in case she dies, she'd be more specific, but she's pretty sure nothing would help much.]

[Memories are always difficult... but family is a tag Rinzler has only observed in passing. It never seemed to make much difference for his prey. Still, as Yori talks, a sentiment pings faintly at the edge of awareness. She misses them. 'Him'.

That's what it feels like.

The explanation doesn't take much work to parse. A reminder. Ghost data, and the assessment fits (even if a corner of his code feels much too small and hollow). Circuits or no, it takes a moment to read the touch-sensation past the loop filling his processing, and Rinzler glances down, surprised as he registers her hand's faint pressure against his own. After a moment, he relaxes his grip, empty fist uncurling a little against Yori's. She cares about him. She wants him to be safe. Those sentiments might be just as foreign as the missing was, but error or not, he thinks he understands.]

Data appreciated.

[As brief as the reply is, the words ease Yori's anxiety. The small signal of his hand helps more. She's been heard. She has to trust he'll understand, either now or when he's able.

If she says anything else, the effort of trimming it down will be for nothing; she can't talk about Encom without risking too much. This has worked too well for her to want to spook Rinzler off with claims he literally isn't able to believe. She can wait...but not if she lets herself focus on the past and calculate what Tron would think of the future.

The bright glow of his fingers is a convenient distraction. With no threat of immediate danger she has time to ask.]

You're looking a lot brighter than last time I saw you. Is that something that happened with your admin, or unrelated?

[The thought of Tron forced to choose the orange he had so many times refused burns. But this is Rinzler, who can't remember anything about Sark or the MCP, and he will be hurt if she can't accept what he looks like.

Rinzler has always been orange and never had a choice. If Yori reminds herself often enough she hopes the flinch won't be visible. No one did it just to remind her of the orange-red flickers that meant the MCP's army.

She keeps her hand on his.]

[If the brightening of those circuits is any sign, Yori's flinch is well-hidden enough. Rinzler shakes his head. Not Clu's doing, no, but he's more than glad to have them back—to look down and see some fraction of himself rather than smooth, foreign shell of a user.]

-6 millicycles. Present on restart.

Same timestamp: scans, tracking functions reactivated.

[The way Rinzler's glow went stronger still when she mentioned it is definitely more like Tron than anyone else. Even if the color feels wrong to her, what she can see of the pattern is Tron in every detail. Yori decides to take it as reassurance that when she guesses what Rinzler will do based on what Tron would do she is right about some of the foundation of his code.]

I remember the note that some people get back capabilities or appearance, but I wasn't sure it would apply to programs. It's good to see circuits again.

[Except he isn't Tron, and tracing the lines up his hand would be inappropriate for their new-formed friendship. Yori clings to the mental separation she needs, but she wraps her fingers a little tighter around his anyway.]

You can track people and scan for threats even in this world? Has it been helpful?

[When his noise returned, Rinzler had been fairly certain about the rest. (Or had refused to process any uncertainties.) Still, if the brightness of his circuits doesn't signal satisfaction clearly enough, the expression on his face should do it.

There's a nod. Circuits and functions. He shifts down to a crouch, placing a hand on the ground to demonstrate, and faint footsteps trace themselves up from the ground. User-white, for the most part—though there's a red-orange tint to his own.

Helpful is hard to quantify—he hasn't had many assignments in the last six millicycles, much less ones detection could be pivotal for. Rinzler nods again anyway. Just being able to sense what's around him is a massive relief—he'd felt blind and glitched relying just on visuals. Rinzler brings up his phone to say as much... then freezes, stare fixed on the time.

Clu.]

Should go.

[He should have gone a while ago—should have been back where he was expected. He can't quite regret the lag completely, but that doesn't do anything to ease the sharp twist of disobedience tightening through his core.]

[The short demonstration makes Yori smile; the abrupt reminder of their time limit does not.]

All right.

[Even if Yori thought it were safe to argue the point with Clu somewhere in this same building, she can see it wouldn't do any good. The return of all the hard tension that had just begun to leave Rinzler's posture is an ache she can't quantify.]

I'll leave you a note in my locker tomorrow, okay?

[If it takes her all night to figure out something to put in it.

She would like a farewell hug for her own comfort, but that's asking too much of Rinzler. He's under too much pressure from his admin's presence; he barely knows her. Yori manages to abort the half-instinctive reach and folds her arms together instead.]

I promise to keep out of the way as much as I can. I'll try not to be in the cafeteria at the usual times.

[A much easier prospect than not knowing when she might see Rinzler again. She can stock up early and avoid the crowds at lunch, figure out a rotating schedule of quick visits in the evening.]

[A nod to the first. Sensible to test the system. He'd check back when he could and confirm. Yori's second promise earns something closer to a stall, head dipping with as much guilt as acknowledgement. She shouldn't have to change her recharge cycles because of his failure with Clu.

Still, any attempt to argue or plan differently will take more time, and Rinzler recognizes the practicality of that decision, even if he hates it. He steps back, fingers curling in faintly around the phone as he glances down and almost stalls again. No. Not fair to say anything he didn't know would hold. A last, jerkier nod, and Rinzler steps back completely, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him.]

[That quick flash of guilt pulls a near-instant response from somewhere that requires no processing.]

Not your fault.

[All the rest hangs, uncertain. If there were anything she could say that would break Rinzler free, she would say it regardless of price or cost. Yori fights her doubt and her own lightning calculations, unable to narrow down to any one thing to tell him. Has she said enough? What if he needs more and she hasn't given it to him? But what if she's increased the danger he's already in by saying too much?

Is there any goodbye that would be remotely adequate? No. But does that mean she can't give any at all?

The door closes. He's gone.]

Stay safe.

[A fierce whisper, a plea, an order. Yori doesn't believe Rinzler can hear the words.

Even if he did, it isn't Yori who commands him.]

IC Contact for Inugami

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