Before she could say anything in turn, Genevieve's stomach grumbled loudly. "Ah," she said, blushing just a little.

"Go ahead and eat," Lenn said, waving their hand. "We have enough time to continue this discussion later. And to make sure that whatever you do, you at least have a plan. Marcie."

Marcie took a break from the strip of jerky she’d started gnawing on to stick her tongue out at them.

"A little bit of food will help us think clearly," Genieve said. She bit eagerly into the bread. It was a little plain, but as hungry as she was, that really didn't bother her much at all.

Marcie seemed to relish the meat. Or maybe she just liked having something tough and chewy to work between her teeth. "Schowuz–" she started to say, but she stopped herself and swallowed before trying again. "So what's the word on the street? How're folks taking this whole mess we've got ourselves in?"

"You realize I didn't have much of a chance to go gathering intelligence for you," Lenn said dryly. "Besides, Marcie, be honest with yourself. You know exactly what story the Prince is telling. He doesn't have an original bone in his body."

"Yeah, I know. You're right." Marcie sighed. "I was wondering if folks were buying into that, seein' as so many of 'em saw what happened with their own eyes, but it's not like that ever mattered."

"People hold faith in their own eyes when they allow themselves to live in truth," Lenn said. "But our kings have made it easy to deceive each other and bend ourselves into false narratives. All the moreso when they are convenient."

"Can't be that hard to sell people on blue bitch stole my wife. They're already picking that one up for six chips at the pulp stand." Marcie snatched the bread off her plate. "Maybe that's why he's so mad. Can't stand the thought of 'his girl' being ravaged by some nasty demon freak of nature." She rolled her eyes sarcastically and ripped off a chunk with her teeth. “I mean you know he’s gotta be some kinda puppy-torturing sadist behind closed doors,” she said, talking with her mouth full and lacking even an ounce of shame. “But nah. It’s me that’s the freak.”

Genevieve didn’t comment on that. She politely chewed and swallowed the bite of bread in her mouth, trying to put the memories of Cornelius out of her mind. Then she glanced at Marcie and, looking to focus on something else, cocked an eyebrow at her. "Ravaged?"

Marcie swallowed her food and wiped off her mouth. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be crude. But you know how it is."

“You just don’t seem like the ravaging type, Marcie.” Genevieve shook her head with a little smirk.

“That’s cuz I’m not!” Marcie protested. "I'm a, fuckin', sensitive, compassionate…"

She trailed off into irate grumbles as she realized what she had said.

"See, Lenn?" Genevieve turned to them. "I told you she had a good heart."

"Of course she does," Lenn said. They weren't even playing into the bit, just stating it as a fact. "For all her faults, I can’t deny her selflessness."

"All I've done for the both of you, and this is how you thank me?" Marcie complained, tugging her hood over her head.

"By remarking that you are kind and selfless?" Genevieve said, not quite done bullying her. "I'd think that is the very least we could possibly do."

"All right, all right, I get it.” Marcie yanked off her hood with a surly expression. "Look, it's whatever. I'm not bothered by what folks think of me. I just don't, y'know, want you to think I'm some kinda great gal who can do no wrong. You're just gonna get yourself disappointed that way."

“You think I am putting you on a pedestal, Marcie?” Lenn looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "That would be news to me."

"It's not that, Lenn. I'm just not about folks thinkin' I'm somethin' other than what I am. Good or bad. All I am is me. I don't wanna be chopped up and stuffed in some box where I don't fit."

Genevieve looked down at her plate, chewing her bread, lost in thought. "I understand that," she said. "Quite well, in fact. So I can't blame you for feeling that way. We can't always choose how we're presented to the world, or how the world decides to see us. But we do not have to accept the labels that are assigned to us."

"Well… yeah." Marcie looked at Lenn and gestured toward Genevieve. "There, see? All of that."

"Still, if I can protest one thing," Genevieve added. "I apologize if I made you feel like I was putting you inside a box. I have no desire to do that. But I can't apologize for describing positive qualities I have seen in you. You may be bashful about them, and they may not fit in with the version of yourself you want to project, but they are still a part of you. There is no need to deny them."

Seemingly at a loss for words, Marcie pouted that cute pout again and tried her best to avoid Genevieve's eyes.

"She's very kind to you, Marcie," Lenn said. "I'd keep her close if I were you."

"Look, hey, I'm not going anywhere, all right?" Marcie set down her empty plate and stood, eager to take her leave. "We're gonna have to get out of this city sooner than later, an' I'm not about to let a lady wander off into the wastes by herself. So at least for the next good bit here, me an' Jen are sticking together."

"I appreciate that," Genevieve said. "I won’t deny I’m worried about what is going to happen from here. But it is a relief, knowing I’ll have a friendly face with me, one way or the other."

"Marcie, where are you going?" Lenn asked, abruptly changing the topic.

"Just, like, down the hall a bit. Wherever that little workshop you had is. You said I needed to have an exit strategy and junk and it’s not like we can just chill out here forever so I'm gonna… you know." She slipped a bullet out from under her cloak and shook it as if to demonstrate that yes, it was in fact there, in between her fingers. "Exit strategy."

"You know that's not what I meant when I said that, right?" Lenn griped. "But I wasn't exactly expecting anything different. You know what your skills are, Marcie. So if that's all you want to do, then just be ready when Miss Genevieve here has something to point you at."

"Aye aye," Marcie said. She rolled the bullet between her fingers and stowed it away with a flick of her wrist. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"It really isn't," Lenn said. "It's not a plan." But Marcie ignored them and strolled out of the room, muttering to herself about ammo counts and powder loads.

"Well, whatever you need her to shoot, I can promise you she'll be up to the task," Lenn said to Genevieve, running their hand through their hair. "But she's used to waltzing through trouble and letting things sort themselves out. I wouldn't count on the devil's luck extending to you."

"I don't expect it to." Genevieve's gaze lingered on the doorway Marcie just left through. "But what should I count on, then? What do I do?"

"You can count on yourself. And you can count on Marcie. I give her a hard time, but she's as reliable as they come. And though my means are limited, I have allies in the city who will do what they can." Lenn walked to a desk in the room and fished out a well-used notebook and a pencil. They sat at the desk and turned to face Genevieve, twiddling the pencil between their thumb and forefinger. "As for what to do, I’m afraid you’ll have to decide on that for yourself. I hope you are more of a planner than Marcie. It would be hard not to be. But if you don't want to bet your fortune entirely on Marcie blowing apart hundreds of automatons and marching you out of the city by force, the two of us will have to come up with another strategy."

"All right." Genevieve stood up off the table, groaning a bit as she realized how stiff her legs were, and made her way over to Lenn, still holding her plate with a few strips of cured meat left. "This is my problem to solve. And even if I can't solve it on my own, I will do all that I can."

Genevieve ripped off a chunk of jerky. By the time she was done chewing it, her determination had already begun to falter. “Though I’d be lying if I said I had much to offer physically. If the earth here had magic for me to draw on, it might be a different story, but in a place this dry I fear I’m next to useless.”

“I imagine it must be quite the shock,” Lenn said. Their voice was level, and they were contemplating something, though Jen couldn’t tell what. “What was it like? Having the Pulse at your fingertips, vibrant as life itself?”

“To be honest,” Genevieve said, “I can better describe its absence.” She sighed and set her plate down atop an open desk. “Some of my earliest memories are of learning to channel the Pulse. My instructors said I had a knack for it, though I think they would have said that whether it was true or not. Calling to the earth for aid was second nature to me. But here I only find that ghastly silence.” Genevieve glanced at her food, and stepped away from it. Talking about this killed her appetite. “It’s almost like I’ve lost a limb. There’s this part of me, this way I used to interact with the world, that’s just… gone.” 

Lenn listened quietly, and nodded their head. “I am sorry we cannot give you that back,” they said. “But I may be able to get you a small reserve. A few spare flecks, to help you in a pinch. Nothing like the bounty you knew.”

That wasn’t what Genevieve expected to hear. “Can you really do that?”

“If I can find a merchant still trading under lockdown,” Lenn answered. “Do not worry. I will make it happen. In exchange, though, I will need you to change your perspective. You do not have the tools you are used to. Instead of lamenting their absence, look to the tools you do have, and do not let them go to waste.”

“Very well.” Genevieve took a slow breath. “I will agree to those terms.” She picked up a chair and sat it near Lenn's, taking a seat next to them. "You said that you had allies in the city?" she asked. Better to try something than to give up. No matter how hopeless it seemed. "Marcie and I can’t defuse the situation here on our own. I don’t want to drag more people into this mess, but we may not have a choice."

“The choice has been made for us. That is unfortunate, but there is only one person to blame for it, and he is not in this room." Lenn opened to an empty page of their notebook and began noting down aliases and, with very deliberate vagueness, potential resources. "As for my allies, there are other followers of the True Pulse. And I remain connected with a number of former patients. I also know more than a few individuals who will be looking for a chance to get out of Fogard quickly, with the way things now stand. I am sure at least some will be willing to aid us, particularly if it's to convince the Prince to turn his gaze back out past the city, rather than within its walls."

While Lenn wrote, Genevieve scooted in closer to see what they were putting down. They shifted a bit to give her a better look, and she stared at the page of notes thoughtfully, putting pieces together in her head, one by one. She asked for a few clarifications about the things Lenn had written down, and the code phrases they used, but over time she started to see the larger picture.

It wasn’t much to work with. Maybe two dozen people across the city who owed Lenn a favor. Some were shop owners, some family men and laborers, and more than a few Lenn simply noted for their skills without any further elaboration. Though Genevieve got the implication well enough. Still, if those skills were reliable, and if they could put just a few helpful hands in exactly the right places…

“Okay,” Genevieve said, after much consideration. “It will be a challenge. But I may have something like an idea.”