it’s true that ferris has acted unusually this whole conversation, at least in comparison to what she usually expects of him — but gemma doesn’t necessarily dislike the change. it’s strange to think that some time apart has brought out a more playful side to him (perhaps to both of them); she wonders how long it’ll last. “darby could work, too. maybe algernon, or winston. …ramsey?” she muses, investing far too much thought into the idea of naming her roomba. at the mention of the cleaning crew, gemma simply shrugs, “is bringing a cleaning crew into a criminal hideout a good idea? more importantly, can we afford a cleaning crew?” when ferris brings up the idea of the group cleaning up together, she pretends to gag at the thought of all the work — but it turns into a cough and choked almost-laughter when he mentions ro being their cinderella. “yeah? ro would make a pretty good cinderella. a reverse story of riches-to-rags. we’ve even already got a cast of mice — or rats, rather — he can befriend.” gemma’s expression is deadpan, a stark contrast to her lighthearted words. as long as her cars don’t suddenly turn into pumpkins at midnight, she’ll be fine entertaining the silly thought. she watches with the same flat look at ferris mimes her disinterested nodding, but she can’t help the tiny upward twitch of her mouth when he asks if he’s doing it right. “got it down pat. i could probably even switch you out to be my body double for boring conversations,” she jokes, stifling a smile. “well, in that case, i’m happy to be a suitable wall replacement.” his kind glance has her pausing, for a moment; she hesitates, but the next lopsided curl of her mouth is almost affectionate, too. “her royal majesty, hm? i’ll have to ask forgiveness for my disrespect,” gemma mutters, fighting the show of her amusement as she makes a point to roll her eyes. fortunately for her, and perhaps unfortunately for the conversation, the mirth disappears of its own accord at the new topic of conversation. through ferris’ minor fidgeting, she tries her best to keep her own gestures neutral. arms lay still at her sides; there is a conscious decision to stop herself from crossing them, so as not to appear defensive or guarded. “you don’t have to trust someone to work with them,” she says, after a moment, voice quiet. she, of course, speaks only from past experience; she’s had numerous jobs during her first three years in nevada where her crew attempted to swipe her share or even take her out after the job was done — so just because she believes in reato’s cause doesn’t meant she has to believe in its leader. it’s easier to place one’s trust in concepts, rather than in people. “if we’d said something, how much do you think would’ve changed? and how can you be sure things would’ve turned out for the better?” the time away not only gave people a break from the warehouse, it gave them a break from each other; she’s not sure what the alternative could’ve been, if it would’ve been better or worse. in truth, she doesn’t see their decision as a mistake. cole’s exposure was… unfortunate, but not damning, in her eyes. after all, they’re still here, aren’t they? ferris’ frustration does not escape her notice, though, what with the quiver at the back of his throat — she nibbles at the inside of her cheek, eyes meeting his when she states, “we’ve already made the choice, anyway. and it’s a little late to go back on it.” when they move on, she’s glad to drift from the topic; but even at ferris’ quip, her already halfhearted smile feels weaker, somehow. “so you’ve learned, huh? and if i made vegetables with dinner tonight, you wouldn’t leave them untouched?”
“Algernon would make me cry,” he muses, bringing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “I’ve read that one book, Flowers for Algernon, about the hamster too many times… I know how it ends, Algernon ends up six feet under.” He wipes away a phantom tear, and looks a Gemma pleadingly. “Don’t give it a name like Algernon, that’s practically dooming it to a life of destruction!” Ferris starts laughing a bit afterwards, but it’s true that the name does remind him of a being a scarred child. He had first read the book when he was in second grade, and if he had any child-like wonder at the time, all of that had been arrested from his development partially due to the book. “You’re right, getting a clean up crew does seem a bit risky now. They’d be able to figure out or identities, but, more importantly, I don’t think we’d even be able to pay them.” Ferris tapped as his chin while thinking of all the possibilities they had in cleaning up the dirty warehouse. “Well, you said it yourself you want to get a Rumba… That would probably clean up enough, and we wouldn’t even have to hide the fact that we’re a criminal organization.” A tsk escaped his lips and he thought of all the funds that Reato lacked, “we really need a treasurer. I mean we have a distraction, a mastermind, and all of that good stuff that a usual criminal crew has - but did we never think of putting someone in charge of our crew funds? How much money do you have in your bank account right now? I know mine isn’t much of anything, and I just turned all of my money over to you. So, I’m just saying, a group treasurer would really help to keep all of our money insured and safe.” He laughs at her riches-to-rags comment and shows off a toothy beam. “I can’t help, but think of just how beautiful it would be to see the rats sing back up for Ro-derella with a few little pigeons up and down his arms while he hits some high notes.” It’s perfect, he thinks to himself, making a mental note to suggest princesses as the crews group Halloween costume for this upcoming year. If Ro was going as Cinderella, Ferris could see Gemma as Rapunzel - she was a princess with impulse, right? Maybe Ferris would be a great Aurora, since he could be found sleeping at almost any hour of the day. “I can handle my own rambling, but count me out for replacing you whenever there’s a boring conversation. That’s just hellish for me. I would rather talk to walls all day than to listen to every boring conversation you encounter.” Ferris gives a disgusted grunt, pursing his lips at the thought of interacting all day with boring people. “But, you can happily replace my walls. They were starting to become repetitive in their conversations. One talked for a whole seven hours about how the wall next to it got hit with some paint splatter. I could barely contain the yawn fest,” he shows off one of his gargantuan yawns, but then feigns some sort of mimed apology to the wall. “Well, she wouldn’t appreciate that eye roll, I know that for a fact,” he mutters back, pointing between Gemma’s eyes to discipline her rudeness towards the mascot of the warehouse.
Ferris can feel his foot twitching up and down, and his hands wringing together. He wonders how Gemma can stay so nonchalant, in a way it makes him feel the pressure even more and urges on his twitchy behaviors. “Gemma, I’ve been working next to people I’ve never trusted my whole life,” he begins, referencing his own experiences in the labs at Princeton. “Never, in my entire life, has that made the worth ethic okay. In fact, it usually made things worse. When there isn’t trust, things begin to fall apart.” His hands wave about with each syllable, and his eyes are wide, pleading, complicated. He doesn’t believe that the Reato crew shouldn’t be able to trust each other, if the plan is going to work they need to be in it together. “I don’t know how much it would have changed, but I think that things could have been different,” he mumbles, running a shaking hand through his hair. The one thing that had kept him up at night over the vacation was the thought of Cole’s life at risk. “Look, it just could have been different, and I wonder if it would have been better. Why shouldn’t he have known? Now if he ever finds out we’ll be branded as liars and he won’t trust us.” Ferris’ movements are manic at this point, and he can still feel the strain in his voice. “We can move on and we can’t change our choices, but ghosts of the past haunt those who buried them.”
Ferris raises his eyebrows, returning back to a composed stance, his breath calming a bit with each exhale. “You cook?” His look of disbelief is incredible, but it’s not like he’d eaten any real food while in the warehouse. “I would eat them, but it depends on the vegetable. I still hate broccoli.”
