That evening left them on pins and needles. Ronnie told them privately in the workshop that wheels were in motion — even in Lassart's head, in fact, now that the right seeds had been planted. She assured them that everything needed a little time to simmer, for him to decide the plans and points they'd raised were valid, and to fill in some specific obvious gaps himself. Then, he'd think so much of it was his idea and trip over himself to support what they wanted him to, but without realizing it was someone else's design and digging his heels in. Oh no, Br'er Fox. Anything but that briar patch!

Rebecca had given in to hope and Ronnie's infectious confidence, and begun packing a few things. Appearances were such that everyone else was welcome to assume she was just getting ready to move in with Sam. In fact, now she sat at the shop's side table, one of Sam's work lights shining brightly down, as she showed Sam some of her most prized possessions — Jaime's sketches (which Sam insisted they should laminate, or frame, or at least find sheet protectors for!), and the Christmas gift earrings, which Sam ooh'd and ahh'd over appreciatively. The yellow gold filigree and contrasting white gold trim and chain definitely glittered prettily in the very directional LED light, but Rebecca confessed her piercings had closed up months ago. When she saw Sam fingering her own basic studs, she started to wonder out loud if maybe Sam should wear them, but that got shot down hard, in the fiercest tone Sam had ever used with her.

"Oh FUCK no, Remy. I love you and I adore you but those are YOURS from HIM. They're gorgeous and were his last big gift... well, material one, to you, and I will not let you give them away to the first floozy to warm your heart for a month or two since him, even if that's me! NO way. Not in hell."

Sam paused, sighed, and switched to a more tender tone. "Sorry. But still no. I get that I gave you Grandma Rose's chain, and you don't have something comparable to offer me back." She took both of Rebecca's hands, earrings still in them. "One of these days we'll be at a mall or something and we can hit a Claire's, or driving past a tattoo place, whatever. That time comes, and I can totally help you get them redone. I doubt those piercing care solutions were a high priority for looters. Though... huh. Maybe we should remember that as a low-grade antiseptic."

Rebecca's smile was a little bit wistful. "I mean... you do seem to have a lot of practice treating my wounds..."

"Physical and otherwise, m'dear. You're so patchwork I might as well start calling you 'doll'. (Again... huh. Something to keep in mind. Assuming you know I mean it in love.) Anyway. You're a good example of the whole patches and scars stronger than the original. I wouldn't have you any other way... wait, that's a stupid expression, and way Freudian. I'm going to stop trying to come up with clever things on the fly. But..." She gently closed Rebecca's hands over the earrings and lifted the fists to kiss them. "These are yours, and THAT I wouldn't have any other way."

Rebecca's smile grew warmer. "Okay. You give me a lot to be thankful for, you know."

"Oh, I do."

Rebecca smirked. "Phrasing, Rosie. We're already holding hands, there's jewelry in mine..." Sam didn't answer verbally, but her expression was full of mischief. Rebecca let the silence hang for a moment and then changed the subject. "Speaking of packing." She gestured around her at everything in the workshop. "How're you going to figure out what to take?"

Sam shrugged and tilted her head in a "yeah, I know, it's a lot" gesture. "Welp. I'm hoping we can do it smart, take my field gear and a bunch of basic wiring doodads. Technical term. We'll probably be able to pull and re-use wiring from all the half-built places you've talked about... and hopefully keep things cooperative between the settlements so I can come use the workshop or ask some of Fairbanks' people to bring stuff for me until I have a good idea what we need at each location to, well, keep the lights on. Literally, heh."

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