[ he guides her easily and gently into the kitchen, but he busies himself with gathering up what he needs for a cup of tea to give her a few moments of privacy. ]
[ cassian knows she likes sugar in it, and he knows which kind of tea she prefers too, which is why he pulls out the english breakfast without even asking after filling up the kettle. he does have an eye for what people like, he's just too naturally observant without any other espionage outlet. ]
[ while it's boiling, he sets the sugar on the table in front of her and digs out her preferred mug. it's a small part, but she can do the sugar herself and feel productive, but he'll do the rest before that. ]
I have been lectured so many times about the proper way to make tea.
[ it's not a flippant question. daisy's entire experience with tea pre-new amsterdam boiled down to whatever jemma happened to be drinking. it wasn't the sort of thing she tossed back on a regular basis. even now, she's still only drinking it because jyn does. ]
How many ways can there be to heat up water and throw a tea bag in?
According to Jyn, anyone who puts the milk in first is dead to her.
[ not that he would do it - it sounds weird even to him - but it doesn't stop him from making fun of jyn's tea dedication. ]
[ he starts digging around in the cabinets, looking for any of daisy's favorite snacks too. distraction with food and drink is very important, but also a level of normalcy. ]
I prefer caf. Coffee, here, but given how rare it is, tea is an easier option.
[ daisy would agree. not to the same extent as jyn, never so vehement or opinionated about it, but milk in tea just sounds gross to her. she might have felt differently if she'd grown up with her mother, but she's too americanized to appreciate milk in tea at all, regardless of the order.
she drops a compressed cube of sweetener, some agave or cane sugar substitute, into the cup, and rattles a spoon around until there's no more resistance. nothing left to dissolve. ]
There's a mushroom substitute, apparently. One of the girls at work is always talking about it. Mushrooms and cacao, I guess. It still sounds gross to me, though.
Honestly, I have never drank it for the taste, so that part does not concern me much.
[ he needs to stay awake because he sleeps like shit, duh. the tea he drinks in new amsterdam is the most caffeinated he can possibly find. not now though - it might be english breakfast but of course he has two versions, and this one is decaf. ]
Though mushrooms in tea sounds a particular kind of unappealing.
[ can he drink one... every five hours? never sleep again?? this is a potential mess, he's already googling to see if they exist on this planet and where he can find some. look what you've done, daisy. he wants to keep one on hand at least for emergencies. ]
[ the tea kettle starts to whistle, and he brings it over, pouring the boiling water into daisy's cup. ]
I cannot say I am that invested in caffeine that I would want it injected in me. [ there is a reason cassian does not regularly drink or partake in drugs and it is control reasons! who knows what literally injecting a caffeine into his body would do, it might have weird side effects! no, he'll stick to drinking it like a regular human disaster. ]
Sometimes I just do not want to or cannot be fall asleep. [ is that a tiny bit of opening up to her?? maybe. maybe because he wants to see if she wants to talk about anything, but knowing how much she's like jyn, it's probably a no. ]
[ for a few moments, daisy is quiet; she watches as cassian pours water into her cup, and when he's done, she toys with the string laid over the side of her cup, tapping and tugging on it and watching the bag bounce in the water.
she doesn't think she's going to say anything much at all, but something about his statement and the casual way it's laid out in front of her catches her attention. it's truth, but more importantly, it's vulnerable truth. an admission of a kind, made sincerely. ]
I get that. [ not quite the same, but it starts her off easy enough. ] I can't usually fall back asleep after that dream. I just... [ an exhale, a hand rubbing against her stomach as if to triple check. satisfied, she continues. ] It just feels real, you know?
[ cassian is fine with the quiet. he likes the quiet, it's how he and jyn offer comfort often too. it's fine if daisy wants to keep the quiet; he's leaving this window to see what road she takes. he isn't afraid to drag her down a different one, but there's always an easier way to do it with patience. ]
[ he notices where her hand falls, but he doesn't draw attention to it. he only frowns a little as he listens. ]
They always do. [ he's dreamed often about getting shot too. about so many things that always feel too real. ] But there's no reason you need to go back to sleep right now anyway. Eat some snacks, watch a film.
[ a beat. ] Is that what happened, before you got here?
[ that in itself is reassurance, both to cassian and to daisy herself. she has lived through that trauma, enough that in her waking hours it no longer weighs on her, and a dream of it will pass with time as well. ]
I was a different person then, I think. [ not literally, but. ] I didn't know who I was, so I made up this whole... existence. Everything I thought I knew about myself was fake.
[ it's perhaps more than cassian wanted to know, but once daisy starts, she finds she can't stop the words from coming out, her hands coming up to grip tightly around the tea mug. ]
I grew up in this orphanage, you know? A Catholic one, with nuns and an old priest who never came out except for Christmas mass, where people came all the time to adopt cute kids and feel better about themselves. They didn't even know who I was. My parents... we didn't know anything. They gave me this horrible name — [ she scoffs into her drink, a quiet sound ] — Mary Sue Poots. Just ... the worst name you could give a kid.
[ at least, the worst name you could make up for one. ]
But it shouldn't have mattered, you know? I got foster families. I just couldn't keep them. No matter what I did, no matter how bad I wanted to stay, they'd send me back. A year, six months, maybe three. Nobody wanted me. "A bad fit," that was always the excuse. "Not right for us."
[ it had weighed on her. even now, daisy wasn't sure she was the right fit for anybody. there was always the risk that someone would get sick of her and bail. ]
I left as soon as I could... and I got rid of it all. My name, my history, my whole life, I erased it. I gave myself a new name, a new purpose... I didn't even know who I was. I called myself Skye like I was some wannabe Madonna, one name and everything. [ which she was not. ] And then I got shot and I found out I was probably part alien and...
[ she shrugs. the rest, as they say, was history. her history. ]
[ a lot of these references go over cassian's head, but he is tactful enough not to ask about them right now. catholics?? mary sue poots?? is mary sue poots a catholic? he can gather enough from context clues to pinpoint her childhood was garbage. daisy's right: he is a very good listener. 80% of being a good spy is just listening, is being a silent observer. who knew he could turn that skill into something useful when it comes to interpersonal relationships? ]
[ he is probably one of the best people to admit to being part alien, because... he's from space. there are infinity species, and many many hybrids. it doesn't even faze him to hear it. ]
I have been shot. [ most recently on scarif, but he's gotten more than a few close calls with blaster fire. ] And I have moved around so much in my life that the concept of a real home has always been so... far off. There are pieces of myself that are gone too.
You were shot, you discovered things about yourself, and you are still here, as Daisy. I think that is the most important part.
[ it seems overly simple, but who's to say that the simple answer isn't the better one? sometimes it's better to just sit with cassian in quiet and drink her tea and be grateful that the life she has now is one she chose, rather than a life she got thrown into and survived in despite the odds. she's chosen to make a ragtag group of orphans and war veterans her family, and she's happy with that choice.
she's happy, with cassian here, despite dreaming about being shot in the gut and being horrified that someone else had to witness it. this moment makes it worth it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ cassian knows she likes sugar in it, and he knows which kind of tea she prefers too, which is why he pulls out the english breakfast without even asking after filling up the kettle. he does have an eye for what people like, he's just too naturally observant without any other espionage outlet. ]
[ while it's boiling, he sets the sugar on the table in front of her and digs out her preferred mug. it's a small part, but she can do the sugar herself and feel productive, but he'll do the rest before that. ]
I have been lectured so many times about the proper way to make tea.
no subject
[ it's not a flippant question. daisy's entire experience with tea pre-new amsterdam boiled down to whatever jemma happened to be drinking. it wasn't the sort of thing she tossed back on a regular basis. even now, she's still only drinking it because jyn does. ]
How many ways can there be to heat up water and throw a tea bag in?
no subject
[ not that he would do it - it sounds weird even to him - but it doesn't stop him from making fun of jyn's tea dedication. ]
[ he starts digging around in the cabinets, looking for any of daisy's favorite snacks too. distraction with food and drink is very important, but also a level of normalcy. ]
I prefer caf. Coffee, here, but given how rare it is, tea is an easier option.
no subject
[ daisy would agree. not to the same extent as jyn, never so vehement or opinionated about it, but milk in tea just sounds gross to her. she might have felt differently if she'd grown up with her mother, but she's too americanized to appreciate milk in tea at all, regardless of the order.
she drops a compressed cube of sweetener, some agave or cane sugar substitute, into the cup, and rattles a spoon around until there's no more resistance. nothing left to dissolve. ]
There's a mushroom substitute, apparently. One of the girls at work is always talking about it. Mushrooms and cacao, I guess. It still sounds gross to me, though.
no subject
[ he needs to stay awake because he sleeps like shit, duh. the tea he drinks in new amsterdam is the most caffeinated he can possibly find. not now though - it might be english breakfast but of course he has two versions, and this one is decaf. ]
Though mushrooms in tea sounds a particular kind of unappealing.
no subject
[ or whatever the modern equivalent is. surely there are shot-sized energy drinks in the futuristic version of a 7-11 somewhere in this megacity. ]
Or a caffeine IV.
no subject
[ can he drink one... every five hours? never sleep again?? this is a potential mess, he's already googling to see if they exist on this planet and where he can find some. look what you've done, daisy. he wants to keep one on hand at least for emergencies. ]
What is caffeine IV?
no subject
I don't actually know if it's a thing.
[ it could be. alien medicine that saved her life was a thing. caffeine in an iv isn't that far off. ]
But IV drips can cure hangovers, so I guess if you put coffee in one, it might wake you up? I don't know. I'm not a doctor.
no subject
I cannot say I am that invested in caffeine that I would want it injected in me. [ there is a reason cassian does not regularly drink or partake in drugs and it is control reasons! who knows what literally injecting a caffeine into his body would do, it might have weird side effects! no, he'll stick to drinking it like a regular human disaster. ]
Sometimes I just do not want to or cannot be fall asleep. [ is that a tiny bit of opening up to her?? maybe. maybe because he wants to see if she wants to talk about anything, but knowing how much she's like jyn, it's probably a no. ]
no subject
she doesn't think she's going to say anything much at all, but something about his statement and the casual way it's laid out in front of her catches her attention. it's truth, but more importantly, it's vulnerable truth. an admission of a kind, made sincerely. ]
I get that. [ not quite the same, but it starts her off easy enough. ] I can't usually fall back asleep after that dream. I just... [ an exhale, a hand rubbing against her stomach as if to triple check. satisfied, she continues. ] It just feels real, you know?
no subject
[ he notices where her hand falls, but he doesn't draw attention to it. he only frowns a little as he listens. ]
They always do. [ he's dreamed often about getting shot too. about so many things that always feel too real. ] But there's no reason you need to go back to sleep right now anyway. Eat some snacks, watch a film.
[ a beat. ] Is that what happened, before you got here?
no subject
[ that in itself is reassurance, both to cassian and to daisy herself. she has lived through that trauma, enough that in her waking hours it no longer weighs on her, and a dream of it will pass with time as well. ]
I was a different person then, I think. [ not literally, but. ] I didn't know who I was, so I made up this whole... existence. Everything I thought I knew about myself was fake.
[ it's perhaps more than cassian wanted to know, but once daisy starts, she finds she can't stop the words from coming out, her hands coming up to grip tightly around the tea mug. ]
I grew up in this orphanage, you know? A Catholic one, with nuns and an old priest who never came out except for Christmas mass, where people came all the time to adopt cute kids and feel better about themselves. They didn't even know who I was. My parents... we didn't know anything. They gave me this horrible name — [ she scoffs into her drink, a quiet sound ] — Mary Sue Poots. Just ... the worst name you could give a kid.
[ at least, the worst name you could make up for one. ]
But it shouldn't have mattered, you know? I got foster families. I just couldn't keep them. No matter what I did, no matter how bad I wanted to stay, they'd send me back. A year, six months, maybe three. Nobody wanted me. "A bad fit," that was always the excuse. "Not right for us."
[ it had weighed on her. even now, daisy wasn't sure she was the right fit for anybody. there was always the risk that someone would get sick of her and bail. ]
I left as soon as I could... and I got rid of it all. My name, my history, my whole life, I erased it. I gave myself a new name, a new purpose... I didn't even know who I was. I called myself Skye like I was some wannabe Madonna, one name and everything. [ which she was not. ] And then I got shot and I found out I was probably part alien and...
[ she shrugs. the rest, as they say, was history. her history. ]
no subject
[ he is probably one of the best people to admit to being part alien, because... he's from space. there are infinity species, and many many hybrids. it doesn't even faze him to hear it. ]
I have been shot. [ most recently on scarif, but he's gotten more than a few close calls with blaster fire. ] And I have moved around so much in my life that the concept of a real home has always been so... far off. There are pieces of myself that are gone too.
You were shot, you discovered things about yourself, and you are still here, as Daisy. I think that is the most important part.
no subject
[ it seems overly simple, but who's to say that the simple answer isn't the better one? sometimes it's better to just sit with cassian in quiet and drink her tea and be grateful that the life she has now is one she chose, rather than a life she got thrown into and survived in despite the odds. she's chosen to make a ragtag group of orphans and war veterans her family, and she's happy with that choice.
she's happy, with cassian here, despite dreaming about being shot in the gut and being horrified that someone else had to witness it. this moment makes it worth it. ]