Who: Rae and Owen Where: Owen's room, first floor When: 2:43 p.m.
Rae's conversation with Owen -- if it could truly be called that, brief and to the point as it was -- seemed to light a fire in her. She forced herself to stay in her seat, to peruse a few more entries in the massive backlog of network posts she had missed, but after just a few days idle it felt good to have a purpose again, or at least the beginnings of one. She had missed that even more than she'd realized; it had taken August's self-mutilation for her to understand just how badly she needed to contribute in some tangible way. Waiting around for something to happen would no longer suffice. With the security council now in place and Owen at its head, there was a touchstone of a sort, a place to start making herself useful in this new place.
When she deemed a reasonable amount of time passed, Rae rose from her desk, moving out into the hallway on bare feet. She ambled down the stairs more slowly than she truly wanted, and still found herself at Owen's door far sooner than she had intended. She smirked at her own unwarranted self-consciousness. What did it matter if she appeared overeager to help? They were all in this together, and like as not her assistance would be appreciated, or at the very least, accepted. So she raised a hand and rapped at the door, her knuckles clacking out a sharp rhythm against the wood.
Owen was at his computer, working on a fair schedule for various patrol hours for those who had volunteered to help out. He was mildly annoyed with Pam, but rather than engaged in an argument over whether or not the security council was a 'small government' - it wasn't - Owen decided to just step back. He knew Pam was probably upset that she hadn't been voted into the council, and if they had taken seven people instead of five, he would have been happy to have her on board. Regardless, the security council didn't mean that no one else in the house would have a say in what happened and how. And Owen was positive Pam would continue to speak her mind - and loudly. It was fine.
He didn't take a break until the knock at his door distracted him from his task. Owen stood and walked over to open the door, finding himself relieved that it wasn't Pam standing on the other side. He recognized the woman, but as they hadn't officially met, Owen was guessing this was Rae. "Rae?" He knew there were a couple others who were newer to the house, so he supposed it would be best not to make any assumptions.
"That's me," she said. A hint of an accent colored her words; Southern, but indistinct enough that it was difficult to place. "Rae Harlin." She glanced around him, one dark brow neatly arching as she took in the rustic room beyond. It was still a strange thing, and a little disquieting to see how unique each room was, how specific to its tenant. This room, like the few others she had seen, seemed to say a great deal about its occupant. She glanced back to him, a warm but guarded smile playing at one corner of her mouth.
"Is this still a good time?"
Owen hadn't really been in, or even seen, anyone else's rooms. Cecilia's, of course. Kate's, when she had been hurt. His room was his private space, and he just naturally assumed everyone else felt the same way. A part of him wanted to lead Rae toward the study to talk, but he felt like that may offend her. So Owen stepped back and pulled the door open wider so she could step inside. At least he had a place for them to sit. "Yeah, this is fine. Come on in. How are you holding up here?"
"As well as could be expected, I guess." She moved past him into the room, lingering near to the door. She could read his hesitation, subtle though it was; she said her hands into her pockets, taking up as little space as she could in his sanctuary. "I won't keep you long," she said. "I just wanted us to put names to faces. I want to help while I'm here, and these patrols are probably the best way I can right now. But I'm open to other suggestions if you have them."
He felt some relief that it didn't appear Rae was settling in for a long conversation. He knew he had come a long way with people since arriving in Zenith, but he wasn't exactly a social butterfly. Especially when he felt like Oliver and Cecilia were much more personable. "Patrolling is great," Owen assured her. "We'll have a schedule ready by tonight or tomorrow. If there are certain hours you're more open to, or would rather not have, just let me know. I've got no suggestions other than that, at least not right now, but that could change. In this place, it's kind of a mistake to plan ahead. They like throwing a wrench into shit daily."
"So I hear," she said. "Unless something drastically changes, I don't care what hours I'm assigned. I have literally nothing else to do while I'm here. The only other concern I have is checking out this fence I've been told about. I read there was going to be a hike out to try to find gaps in the fencing. I'd like in on that, too." She chuckled. "When the snow clears or is manageable, of course. Other than that…" She spread her hands, palms up, like an offering. "I'll help with whatever y'all need. I'm on the third floor, across from the theater. You just let me know if and when you need anything."
Owen could understand that. Some people kept busy, but really, what did any of them really have to do in this place? He offered her a faint smile. "Yeah, the fence testing. I guess that's going to have to wait until the weather changes a bit. But Cecilia is pretty good at keeping the house up to date on what we have planned, so if you're willing to help out there, that's great. And if you need anything, well... I'm usually here. Or you can shoot me a message on the network." He shrugged. There really wasn't much else to say, unless Rae had further questions, so Owen was aware enough to see her to the door. It was strange to have anyone in his room other than Cecilia, but he found he hadn't minded it so much. Maybe he was making progress.