The water was calm, and deep. That should have been a comfort. But its stillness was also stagnation, its quiet that of a wild animal surrendering to captivity. Conundrum. A river would have been better – a stream, a waterfall, something with a sense of movement, of freedom. Instead it was like her; trapped. River wondered idly - trailing her fingers in the water at the edge of the pool, watching the ripples - whether it felt like she did, whether the walls whispered to it, whether it knew what lay outside its cage.
She had not needed to consult the map to find the pool – it had been easy enough to spot the scrap of blue, like an upside-down sky, a window in the ground, from her vantage point on the roof. Simon would probably have preferred it to her new favoured retreat, would have appreciated the clinical angles, the sterile white of the tiles. River did not like it, and had been planning her retreat back to the roof when she became aware of the fact that she was no longer alone.
She and the Captain had 'spoken', of course – on the boards, in the nebulous network. It was another thing entirely to be face-to-face again. “Lao pung yo, nee can chi lai hun yo jing shen.” - she shot him a shy smile, tilting her head to the side, before a frown replaced it. “We don't belong here.”
[OOC: translation – 'you're looking wonderful, old friend' in fairly formal core-style Chinese]