[She says it coldly, nodding towards Fink. He's got most of their patents under his arm by now, and picks his way carefully towards the stairway. Rosalind follows, turning sharply on her heels and putting her back to the bodies.
She can't bear to see Robert's body. Not now, not when she's parted from him. Her own doesn't matter, but Robert . . . no. Her throat would close up, her eyes would fill, and she'd never forgive herself for that humiliation, not even in front of Prompto.
Up the stairs, down the hall, and into her bedroom. The remains of the machine rupture up in here, but there's a little area where their bed and nightstand are that's just for them.
Fink is tugging open the dresser drawers, rifling through each one with no shame.]
He's looking for my diaries. He wants to finish his looting before anyone, even the paramedics, gets in, just in case they wonder why he's so eager to explore Lutece Labs.
That was his promised price, you see: our patents, and anything else he could get his hands on and make use of. I'm sure Comstock meant it in a purely professional sense, but Fink took it to mean personal usage as well.
[She hadn't reacted when he'd grabbed her diaries. But she does go stiff when Fink hesitates, then reaches for a portrait of Robert.]
no subject
[She says it coldly, nodding towards Fink. He's got most of their patents under his arm by now, and picks his way carefully towards the stairway. Rosalind follows, turning sharply on her heels and putting her back to the bodies.
She can't bear to see Robert's body. Not now, not when she's parted from him. Her own doesn't matter, but Robert . . . no. Her throat would close up, her eyes would fill, and she'd never forgive herself for that humiliation, not even in front of Prompto.
Up the stairs, down the hall, and into her bedroom. The remains of the machine rupture up in here, but there's a little area where their bed and nightstand are that's just for them.
Fink is tugging open the dresser drawers, rifling through each one with no shame.]
He's looking for my diaries. He wants to finish his looting before anyone, even the paramedics, gets in, just in case they wonder why he's so eager to explore Lutece Labs.
That was his promised price, you see: our patents, and anything else he could get his hands on and make use of. I'm sure Comstock meant it in a purely professional sense, but Fink took it to mean personal usage as well.
[She hadn't reacted when he'd grabbed her diaries. But she does go stiff when Fink hesitates, then reaches for a portrait of Robert.]