Raven + Eric
Even with the slight buzz of alcohol singing in her system, Raven was observant enough to notice the slip of his features. His carefree smile wavered, dissolved, and was replaced by utter exhaustion. There was resignation there, too, she could tell; but for what, she couldn’t begin to discern. For all of the mental prowess her abilities granted her, for better or worse, Raven couldn’t read minds, and she certainly wasn’t an empath.
At his question, she pondered briefly. “Unfortunately,” she managed after a beat, “The changes that need to happen won’t start here on the ground. It has to go higher, and try as you might,” with her gloved hand, she patted the top of his, “It can’t be done by one individual trying to make things better.” If systemic change was something he was after—well. It was the system he’d have to tackle.
Not that she’d ever complain about the kindness it took to make the mundane a little less run-of-the-mill.
“It’d be difficult to keep this place a secret if everyone wanted a piece of it, true.”
His mood seemed to lift once they were onto happier subjects, so Raven went along with it. Especially since it led to him pouring her another glass of champagne. “Well Mr. Hawthorne, you may have just become my favourite Handler here in Limbo.”