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Come on. [ She's shocked Rex wouldn't know what she means- and she doubts he's hiding anything. She thought it was clear.

She knows how much Rex cares about the people around him- his clear care for Martin, the way he's helped her. And he defended Andy, too. ]

Because the two people you're closest to were brainwashed for a week, one of your housemates was also kidnapped, and one of those people is dead right now. I think it's probably normal for me to ask if you're holding up fine.

[ She finally takes a sip. ] So are you?

Ah.

[ Recognition registers on his face. It's not that he's unused to others caring about his well-being - his lot is not so sad as that, thank the gods big and small - but it's rare that someone will directly ask him about it, particularly when it comes to a death, commonplace as death has been in his life. Usually there's getting aggression out through sparring or at the shooting range or through training protocols, hauling a brother down to the soothing motions of repainting armour, or when their leaves permit it, someone coming to share a bunk.

Everything is different here. This too is different, both more direct and not. ]

I am. [ And he is. He feels awful, of course, aggrieved and tightly wound up, and it would be a lie to say that he hasn't taken it out at the shooting range or on a punching bag since everything had fallen apart. He's sad and angry and confused and aimless but even so, he's holding up. He has not flagged in upholding his professional duties, has not lagged in keeping his own space tidy and clean, has recontinued his brothers' Mando'a lessons, has been taking care of Martin to the best of his ability.

That's the very definition of holding up fine. You can mourn, yes, but it should never interfere with your duties. And this has not interfered with Rex's, as paltry as his current set of duties may be.

He sets his glass on the table with a click and sighs, quietly. When he speaks, his voice is just as quiet, though it's only low, not weak. ]

I'm angry about what happened, of course, and... I mourn Andy's death. [ It had been sudden; jarring. He wishes he could have seen her body. Knowing what he knows about her, seeing the things he has, her death still doesn't feel real. ] I'm not made of stone. I can hardly claim to be unaffected. But I'm holding up fine. Truly.

[ Perhaps the lines he's been fed about not being affected by stress, about being able to withstand any mental duress are lies - but when you believe those lies, it makes little difference at the end of the day. ]

[ Cassandra has, to put it bluntly, fucked up at performing empathy before. Even to people she cares about, even to people she's tried desperately to understand, she's made assumptions and been unable to see past them, got stuck deep in her own preconceptions and had to be shaken out of them. She's spent the last few months trying to ease those problems.

But after all this? For most people, she doesn't have the energy. Someone she trusted used her that badly, hurt those around her that badly. The world might be fucking ending. Sometimes it feels too hard to bother.

For Rex, though, she's trying. And his voice dipping the way it does catches her. ]

Are you sure? Because you don't sound like it. [ She says, knowing she's glossing over how much of a wreck she is by following this trail, in some ways using this to get his attention off of her. ] Just because you avoided getting your mind hijacked doesn't mean you have to be all dandy.

Seriously. If you're worried about Martin, I'm sure somebody would keep an eye on him. Archie. Or me.

[ Once she says that she knows Rex is going to shoot her down, tell her that she went through much more and this isn't her problem. Should've just stuck with Archie, huh. ]

Absolutely not. All things considered, you hardly need to worry about me - you've got too much on your plate to occupy yourself with that. Besides, Archie's already been 'round. He cares too much about Martin for anything else to be the case.

[ And just like that, the moment's over. Rex had been honest with Cassandra because he's a reflexively honest man but stoicism is where he's happiest and it's where he eventually settles, expression shuttering, tone brightening. ]

I'm fine.

[ And that is, as far as he's concerned, the long and the short of it. He's fine. He always is and always has been, through worse things than this. He's not the one whose world is falling apart around him. ]

And I didn't come here to talk about myself. [ He studies her. ] Have you been eating? Not that I'm here to make you a homemade meal, but you ought to at least be getting some food in.

[ Basic self-care's usually the first to go. Rex can't cook, but he can order takeout like nobody's business. ]

[ She rolls her eyes and sighs, though not in a particularly demeaning way; it's more than she's exhausted. She wants Rex to give this to her straight, and she's still not sure he's telling her everything, nor is she sure he's truly doing as fine as he says.

And his needling about her eating habits gets to her, too. Partially because- well- she never eats very well. Now that he mentions it, she hasn't really eaten much, and hasn't since far before this Woden fiasco. But like hell if she's giving that away. ] Of course I've eaten enough. I'm not that far gone, thank fuck.

[ She's maybe eaten two pieces of toast today. ]

Besides, nothing's unpacked anyway. We'd have to dig through all my shit for anything to eat with. [ In her head, this is a far more successful deflection than it really is. ]

You do realize that's not the best counterargument you've come up with, right? And ordinarily, you're pretty good at that.

[ Which is to say: he doesn't believe her. She may not be starving herself but eating's not just about calories. It's about the nutritional profile of the thing as well and, for that matter, a little bit of comfort. There's almost nothing Rex finds more comforting than a good cup of caf, and he knows the same goes for plenty of people and food, no matter what that food will be. ]

At any rate, I haven't eaten, so I may as well order something - or pick it up, if you don't care to give out your address. And in the meantime, you know I could get you unpacked in twenty minutes flat, yes?

No. No, Rex, come on, if you fucking baby me I'm going to feel even more like shit. Did I not make that clear?

[ Rex, as a close friend, is the rare person who can escape Cass' frequent anger. She's not hiding that she's frustrated with him now, though, maybe for the first time actually directed at Rex himself.

She does need to be cared for- but she's not going to acknowledge it. Acknowledging it means she's acknowledging how much the last few weeks have hurt, and she's not ready to do that yet. Even with someone she trusts. She rubs one of her eyes, trying to hide how tired she is, too. ]

Fine, we'll- we'll order something. What do you like? I'm not really familiar with whatever tastes you picked up living in deep space.

[ Rex clicks his tongue. ] I'm not babying you. What I'm doing here now is no different from what I'd do for...

[ Ah. Never mind. Rex shakes his head. He doesn't know if she'd understand, or if she did, if she'd even appreciate the sentiment. As close as Rex is to those he's found here, he knows that he doesn't see the world the same way that he does. He moves quickly by necessity; a single month for him seems to last an age. Is it any wonder that he grows attached? And he grows attached quickly. It's the way he's always been. Either someone is one of his own, or they're not. He doesn't know how to move in half measures. It's not his way.

It's a damn good thing clones can't be Force sensitive, because he'd make a damned awful Jedi. He cares too much. And somehow, though he's not sure when it happened, that includes Cassandra.

He discards the thought, opening a menu on his communicator and shoving it Cassandra's way before rising to his feet. ]

Chinese is good. Here, you look at the menu and figure out what you want. I can at least take care of the dishware.

[ Ugh. Though she's trying to bury it, she already feels guilty about all of this. Guilty because so many people she's close to got wrapped up in it. Guilty because she didn't realize Woden would do the exact same thing, just on a larger scale, that he did back in London. Guilty because she didn't realize Woden was right there, using her, for so long. Maybe she's reaching, but Rex seems aware of it- too aware of it.

At the very least, he's aware of how bad she really feels. And she doesn't even want herself to know that.

Fine; if he's going to be so fucking helpful, she'll take that as an excuse to needle him. She starts looking through the menu, but she's not that intent. ]

What you'd do for who?

[ Hell. Of course she's going to make him say it, isn't she? It doesn't feel like the thing that ought to be said out loud. It ought to be the sort of thing that's just implicitly understood. But that's never the way it is with Cassandra, who likes to pick and tear at everything until they're down to their base elements, so perhaps he should have never expected it in the first place.

It's easier not to look at her as he unloads dishes, thoughtfully rubbing his fingertips against some of the dust while she - hopefully - busies herself with figuring out what she wants to order. ]

A brother, [ he says, stiffly. ] After undergoing a hardship.

One of the other clones, you mean.

[ That's- she barely knows what to make of that. Rex clearly sees the world through a somewhat militaristic lens, his relationship with his fellow clones included. But he seems to consider them family, too.

Which would mean...come on. They haven't known each other a year. Rex is certainly one of her closest friends here, but if he thinks of her that way- she doesn't know how to take that. ]

You don't have to... [ Fuck. She doesn't know what to say. She didn't know what to say to Martin, she doesn't know what to say now. Why does this have to be so hard? ] You don't have to be dramatic, Rex.

[ She puts his communicator down. ] The Lo Mein's fine. I guess.

I'm not being dramatic, [ Rex says, rolling his eyes, trying to make less of it than it is. Really, this is why he hadn't said it in the first place, and now he wishes he hadn't been so reflexively honest. To get dismissed so handily is just embarrassing, not that he had expected anything else. ] I hardly have any other frame of reference.

[ It's easier to downplay it, even if he does care about her nearly as much as he cares about many of his brothers. It's not purely dishonest either; what do ordinary people do for one another after they undergo trauma? It's only natural to go to someone, to provide conversation and solace, to provide some handy hidden contraband, human contact, make sure that they eat and drink and that their bunk is kept in order for them. He can't think of what else one would do.

Maybe most of them just ignore it. That's what the Jedi seem to do. Somehow, Rex doesn't think that his Jedi, as much as he likes and respects them, are a good example of that sort of thing. ]

...Lo mein's fine.

[ She wants to tell him that that isn't good, to know how to process only a certain type of relationship; but she doesn't feel like fighting him right now. She feels awful in a new way, suddenly. Someone thinks of her this highly and she just acts like a total fuckwad. She keeps doing this. She's always doing this. It makes her want to lie down, not think about this, about anything.

But she wanted to do that before Rex walked in, too. She'd just never let it happen. ]

I'll order it. You're the guest. [ And she's going to be firm about that before he steps in and says he's going to pay. ] You sure you don't want anything else?

[ She's not looking at him. It's not usual for her, to give up so easily, and it nags at her. ]

[ This, at least, he can answer. ]

Ah... get some beef and broccoli as well as some form of vegetable. I eat a lot.

[ That's an understatement. If not for good manners, he can inhale an entire container of Lo Mein on his own - and that's on a good day. When particularly famished, he can pack away a lot more.

He had been expecting her to needle at him more than that. She must really not be feeling well. He cleans the rest of the dishes in relative silence as Cassandra orders and, true to his word, he's finished going through all of her dishes and silverware in that short period of time. Even so, he dallies at the sink, wiping his hands off on one of the paper towels she had sitting on the counter, considering what to say, how to improve upon matters. He suspects he was not of as much help as he wanted to be, but he should have expected that cultural differences would get between them. ]

How do you do it, then?

[ It seems a brusque, abrupt question, though Cassandra may know him well enough to know that it isn't; he's simply the sort to ruminate on a single subject for far longer than others do, and to continue the conversation as though the other party had been thinking on it as well. ]

[ If she was in a better mood, she would smirk or roll her eyes at his final request; of course Rex wasn't going to just have Lo Mein. It's why she asked.

She makes the order, but she's entirely on auto-pilot, really; she's ordered enough take-out in her life that she barely has to think about it. If Rex watches her tone he'll know she's mentally somewhere else, though. Mostly in that she's coping with the sudden exhaustion that comes with the realization of how awful she's being, and the idea that she's going to have to sit here and eat with Rex when what she really wants to do is fall asleep somewhere.

Not that she'd let herself sleep for very long. And not that she doesn't want Rex's company; she thinks she doesn't, to some extent, but she does. She just doesn't know what to do with it. ]

What? [ She asks, clearly caught off guard, though she's not doing well hiding it. ] Sorry, we- we've talked about like five different things here, Rex.

Right.

[ Unless Cassandra stops him, he's going to start folding dishtowels and putting them away. It's fine. It's kitchen gear. It's all within the same category and is, in his humble opinion, simply adjacent to taking care of the dishware.

(Really, what he needs is for Cassandra to go lie down for fifteen minutes and he can finish the whole thing. She looks like she could use it, poor thing.) ]

Providing assistance to a friend who could use the support. How do you do it?

[ It is, in essence, a smaller question and one he suspects Cassandra will catch onto: what do you need? If what he's doing now isn't it, the only way to know what to do is to gain verification from the source herself. ]

[ She's on the verge of telling him to quit it when she sees him move onto the towels, but she's also on the verge of giving up on stopping him altogether. Clearly he isn't going to stop easily, and she's known Rex to be stalwart if anything; she doesn't doubt that he'd go out of his way to help anyone he cared about, even if jumping to potentially considering her family feels strange. She opens her mouth to stay something, and makes a small noise as if about to speak, then stops.

She leans her elbow on the table, rubbing one of her temples. She is starting to feel drowsy, but she doubts she'd sleep comfortably. ]

With the people I know? Make sure they don't destroy anything. Make sure they're not partying themselves too hard. Try to actually figure out what the problem is, not that they're good at telling me.

[ She doesn't mean it to be a dig at Rex, but it kind of is. But it's also, unintentionally a dig at herself. Evens out. ]

Well. I'm hardly worried about the first two.

[ Cassandra may seem as though she has an explosive temper from speaking with her - and in many ways, she does - but she's never been at all destructive. And partying too much? No. Not a chance.

(And, frankly, he's not self-aware enough to consider how any of these can apply to him. He's too sensible for that sort of behaviour, after all, and too resilient to let things bother him more than he ought to.)

He finishes folding the last towel and shuts the drawer, each item in its place. ]

Though if you want to discuss anything else - [ though this doesn't apply to Cassandra either; Rex knows what the problem is, and it's that di'kut Woden burning down the very house he'd built for himself ] - my door's open.

[ She won't want to now. She won't want to in the future. He knows that, sees the way she's propped up on the table, defeated, sees the way she's rubbing at her temple. She's underneath a great deal more stress than she can reasonably deal with. ]

If you want to rest before the food arrives, feel free. I'm the intruder here, and I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself.

[ Read: perfectly capable of cleaning the rest of this place up. ]

[ Don't know about that, Rex; he might think differently if he'd seen what she did to David Blake's office. She's at a low right now, but she can get lower.

She nods at his offer for help, not knowing quite what to do with it. She sighs. Well, she does know what she should do- it's more that she doesn't know how she feels. ] Thanks. I'll...I'll keep it in mind. [ She says, in the clear tone of someone who's just saying it to say it.

She snickers dryly at his last statement, though. As if she's going to let him do that. ] What would you entertain yourself with? Mythology textbooks? Endless notebooks of research? I watch TV on my laptop. Unless that's not what you mean.

[ For once she knows what he's up to. ]

Keep it in mind, Cassandra. Really.

[ She ought to give it more thought than she's giving it right now. Rex isn't what he'd call touchy-feely, nor is he particularly good at discussing feelings, but everyone needs an outlet. Even him. There has to be at least one person you can confide in when the going gets tough and he's not confident that Cassandra has that outside of those that are intimately involved in her affairs. It has affected Rex, true, but he wasn't involved. It's why he treasures his friendship with Cody so much. Sometimes you just need an outside point of view.

Of course, when she catches him out, he pauses. He doesn't even have the good grace of looking at all guilty. ]

I'll have you know that I like cleaning.

[ As if Cass ever confides in anyone. She was so connected to the Norns they knew her problems without her having to say much of anything, and thank fuck for that; but they're not here, now, and she's starting to think they never will be. Someone would have to pry a lot more than Rex is to get anything out of her that's more than I'll figure it out.

That said, at least this gives her an excuse to needle him again, though it's closer to teasing this time. It's somewhat of a relief. ]

Of course you like cleaning. You're exactly the kind of person who would. [ And, shockingly, she's not, although she'll pretend she keeps things clean. ] Do you actually like doing it or do you like knowing everything's finished after?

I'll take that as a compliment.

[ Which he does, really. There's nothing wrong with keeping things nice and tidy and he's always been detail-oriented, focused on making sure that things aren't just going passably well but that things are done right. Sometimes that means hours poring over stratagems with Cody and sometimes that means making sure everything's in its place. ]

Can't it be both? I'd hardly waste my time if not for the end product but I don't mind the process. It's relaxing.

[ Of course that's how Rex relaxes. ]

[ She rolls her eyes. This weirdo. No wonder he considers this something he needs to do; it matches up so cleanly with the habits he already has.

He's a good friend. She should probably tell him. But that's...difficult. It always has been. She's not even really sure what she's doing with him, or Martin, or anyone in that household.

But she is starting to feel useless. She pushes herself up out of her chair, approaching him and whatever he's been working on. She can't be that tired, right? ]

Come on, give me something. I need to figure out where all of this shit even goes anyway.

If you say so. You may well feel better once this is taken care of.

[ Clean spaces are good for you, in Rex's professional opinion. The longer the to-do list, the more unease you'll feel until you've at least managed to pare it down. His to-do list is almost never done back home - there's always more to do, no matter what - but he always felt better being proactive about it, even when ostensibly in recovery. ]

Why don't you take care of the mugs? [ He says, passing the box over and getting started on a new one. Clothes. Somehow, he thinks she'll appreciate him rummaging through them and getting them washed and pressed less than Andy does - which is to say, Andy accepts it without any complaint and Cassandra probably isn't fond of the idea of him rifling through her things.

(Did. At this point, he's just cleaning her clothes for his own peace of mind, as though she'll show up needing something clean to wear for tomorrow. Stupid thing to do. He ought to be more mature than that.) ]

Have you always lived alone, then? Or is this a first?

[ She thinks mugs are kind of a simple option, especially considering Rex has started on her clothes, but she's getting too tired to push it. If Rex looks, he'll see basically all of her clothes are in the same mold- black, flowy, some tights and hooded cloaks. They're actually not nearly as nice as what she would wear back home, considering her limited budget, but at first glance they may as well look the same, and serve the same function. Benefits of wearing all one shade of color.

She starts on the mugs anyway, stacking them in a cabinet over the counter. At his question, she shrugs. ]

I might as well have been living alone in the other housing, considering how little I saw the people who lived there. I had too much to do. [ Although a lot of what she did involved sitting in her room, all holed up. ] But yeah, I mean, I've done it before.

I wasn't doing it before I was Ported in...but it looks like Lachesis didn't give a fuck about that, so I'll have to get used to it. [ She sounds particularly bitter, on that front. It's been half a year, and she's still not used to being alone all the time. ]

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