After a bit of quality time with Gabriel, Tasha wanted to check in on Nora's place before heading back to the motor pool, so Gabriel took her to proper floor and building, and then decided to wait outside. "This is something personal between you two," he claimed, while smiling.

Tasha grinned back before she entered, but upon actually stepping foot inside the Vartan is suddenly struck by the personal enormity of where she is, what she is doing, and all that has transpired between now and when last this apartment's occupant was here. Her smile fades into a pensive, considering frown as her gaze sweeps across the room. She can't help but note how intact everything is, even after all this time – and the strange sense of deja vu the room gives her. It must be the PersoCom language library in my head, she tries to assure herself as she steps further inside.

The air vents are working now that power is back on, so at least the room doesn't smell stale, but it also smells a bit sterile. The carpet crunches under her hooves as Tasha moves around, having lost its flexibility over time but not having turned to dust thanks to the lack of sunlight, at least.

"It's like a tomb," Tasha murmurs. She can't help at wonder at Gabriel's words: "This is between you two." The red woman ponders when she and Nora became so close – did it start with their PersoCom world meeting? Over the month she spent working her way here? Is it simply because she can't accept someone like Nora could die in such a horrible way, and refuses to let her memory fade away? It strikes her that she's somehow gained a relationship with Nora that nears Gabriel's own, and yet never really knew her. Tasha thinks on this as she approaches the familiar black box, staring down at it as if it were a notice of her own demise. "Oi, Nora … You didn't deserve this."

The box is featureless but similar to the others Tasha has encountered, so it shouldn't be difficult to open at least. It doesn't have any markings on it either.

Tasha never opened any of the other death boxes, making her deeply wonder why she's considering opening this one. "I didn't even know her," she argues with herself, finding her own voice a comfort in the midst of so much sterility and silence. "I barely know her now, why am I so … obsessed with you, Nora?" It's not as if Tasha doesn't at least partially know the answer to her question: She looks up to Nora, she's unable to accept her death or acknowledge her – and the other – PersoComs aren't alive. She longs to live up to Nora's life, and now she needs someone to emulate as the day grows closer to the founding of the JEF. And those are just the most obvious reasons that come to her. She stares at the box for what feels like an hour until she remembers something; these boxes are for family members. "I'm family, Nora, you said so, right? Rrr, it's just a box!" The woman then grabs the box, dropping to her knees and opening it before she loses her nerve again.

There aren't any notes or data pads, medals, or photographs in the box. It's filled with metal tubes, similar to the 'lipstick' tubes Tasha saw human women using in New Zion. These don't seem to have removable caps though, just a stud on the side and some sort of grill on one end.

Tilting her head, Tasha tries to make sense of the strange metallic tubes. Hasn't she seen something like this somewhere before? Holding the box makes her feel guilty, in turn making concentration hard, until at last she places the box back on its stand and closes it. Standing, Tasha decides she'll come back once she remembers what the tubes do. Feeling the need to turn her mind to something more peaceful, she walks towards the wardrobe area to look through the garments.

The closet holds a variety of outfits, from practical pantsuits to evening wear to bathing suits that might cause a Babelite to blush. All of them are sealed in some sort of thin plastic bag, but the bags at least have clearly visible sticky-seams for opening and closing.

Tasha's eyes widen at the assortment, especially the swimsuits. She really hadn't pictured Nora being the type to dress in such revealing attire, especially not something that would have given her pause a year or so back. Reaching down, she picks up a pantsuit and holds it to her body, thinking on it. Is this how I need to look? Is this what these worlds will want from me? She isn't sure, except to know that these clothes are probably a long time out of style. Still, she can't help but feel a little better for being near them, making her wonder if it's her own desire to be near her role model's things that comforts her … or if it's Nora's memories that lurk inside her.

There is one shortcoming of the pants – they are a bit tight, made of some form-fitting material that may or may not survive having a Vartan hoof pushed through it. There are a few backless outfits though that could accommodate Tasha's wings if she can figure out how to put them on. For a few there isn't any obvious means of support, being shoulderless, strapless AND backless.

Deciding if she doesn't start thinking like her old self soon she might end up caught in a unpleasant web of introspection and infinitely recursive second-guessing of her own nature, Tasha takes a deep breath and then tosses her jacket on Nora's bed. She then begins removing any other clothing that might get in the way, and picks up one of the backless outfits. "Shut up Tasha, clothing time," she orders herself in a low growl. The sudden action doesn't completely dispel her doubts and worries at being here, but at least having a immediate goal helps take her mind away from such things.

The outfit has a matching pair of shoes and a handbag, but otherwise seems to be a single piece of odd feeling fabric – Tasha can't tell what it's made out of. Clearly though the person is meant to pull it up over their legs, but there's no clear means for the top part to stay in place.

"Maybe I should have asked Fred for a manual," Tasha murmurs, making herself chuckle. Shaking her head she carefully tries to pull up the dress and in hopes that in some mysterious technological way it will stay put once up. While it's not the first time she's tried Expedition technology with a guess and a prayer, it's the first time she's worn it that way!

It's unusual, certainly. It hugs her hips and is low cut in the back to allow for her tail, while the front is little more than a rectangular strip that somehow sticks to Tasha's fur… and then provides support where she needs it. The skirt only reaches to her knees, but somehow hugs to her legs without being constricting – it actually expands as needed so she can walk. There is a definite aura of 'this is really expensive' about the garment as well. The material is red, but subtly shifts colors once worn. The closet door seems to double as a full-length mirror as well.

"If I ruin this Nora will kill me," Tasha breathes as she looks down at herself. Stepping towards the mirror, she keeps her head down until she's right in front of it. Then we'll both be dead and- "Oi, enough!" Before her thoughts can slip out of her grasp again, she jerks her head up to see how she looks.

It makes the Vartan look downright slinky. And looking in the mirror, she also catches a shiny glint coming from inside one of the unwearable shoes left on the bed behind her.

Tasha's never seen herself dressed so well! She smiles widely at the image of herself in the mirror, turning this way and that, and genuinely forgetting about her worries for a welcome few seconds. The person she sees in the mirror seems like more than Tasha the dock rat, more than a lonely, insecure young woman who has lost where she once belonged, and now seeks to better herself and fit into a world that sometimes feels too far away. But here, in this dress, in the space of a brief moment, she feels like somebody. And then her eyes flick away, and it's back to the world around her. The Vartan's brows furrow, the hybrid scootching over to examine the unexpectedly shiny shoe.

There's a loose metallic disc inside the shoe, about an inch across. Probably some bit of jewelry that goes with the outfit.

Unable to simply ignore a shiny once its caught her eye, Tasha leans over a little and tries to pluck the bit of shimmer out, holding it up to her eyes.

It's a shiny metal disc, with what looks like a stylized, cartoon cat face on end, sticking its tongue out.

"What are you?" The Vartan blinks bemusedly at the cat face, not having expected Nora to have something so funny; not having expect something so funny to exist in a place Tasha feels should be somber. She had forgotten Nora was, as Gabriel put it, a "smartass." That Nora had a sense of humor seems so obvious to Tasha now, she briefly wonders how she could have thought otherwise. "I know, cat-face," she tells the disc before it can 'speak up,' "I'm the one who forgot about humor. But it's sad, isn't it, cat-face? Come on you, come cheer me up and help me think about my sister." She brushes her thumb over the face, then sets it aside so the cat face 'watches' her.

The little badge's expression doesn't change as it's set aside. The way the light hits it though makes it seem like it's winking.

Tasha begins undressing so she can try on more clothes, carefully removing the beautiful garment and returning it to its plastic bag for safekeeping. She then begins looking around, hoping Nora left behind a uniform she can try on. "Wink away, I deserve it," Tasha tells the button. "When did Tasha get so serious, I bet that's what you're wondering? Maybe you're thinking, what's Tasha doing here, where's she going? Oi, you know little cat-face, she doesn't even know? She's digging through a dead woman's closet to try and find who to be, ha, that's funny isn't it?"

Near the end of the rack of clothes is something that looks like the uniforms Tasha has seen in pictures, but far more fancy. There's a blouse and jacket and long skirt, in the colors of the Terran Expedition, and seems to have a small box in the bag with it.

"There's an answer for you, cat-face. If you look hard enough and try hard enough, maybe you'll find what you're looking for," she tells the button, glancing back before she pulls out the unusual uniform and its box. Sitting down, she puts the uniform aside and fiddles with the box, attempting to open it. "Gabriel suggested I should be Ambassador," she mentions. "But, I'm nervous. Layth says I should be confident. Nora let me be her sister, everyone seems to listen to me, too … " She shakes her head as if she didn't believe her own words.

The box opens easily, and is lined with a soft material that holds various gold and silver rank bars and a few medals.

"Oh, medals and rank." Tasha examines the contents without taking them out, then turns the box so the button can 'see.' "Some day, I'd like to have a box like this. It's part of Nora I look up to; not just the accomplishments, but the self-confidence she must have needed to get them. But, these aren't mine and I won't wear medals I don't deserve. Now, clothing on the other hand … " The box is closed and put aside, then Tasha beings trying to don the unusually fancy Expedition uniform.

It isn't as rugged as a uniform should be – it must be a dress uniform for special occasions. After all… you don't wear your medals into combat!

Tasha shifts and works her way as much as she can go in the uniform, but has to give up on the top and just hold that against her chest – wings just don't allow for easy clothing sampling. "This is a bit like what we'll wear, when the JEF is underway," she explains. Head tilting as she examines herself, she adds, "I'm also jealous of Nora, her life – even being a Karnor instead of a Vartan! But, Nora never had children, either … So maybe I'm just being stupid. or, well, I don't know. It's complicated, okay?" She gives the button a glare.

Of course, Tasha hasn't had children either, but her hips are still a bit wider than Nora's. The cat face button wisely stays silent on the matter, though.

"You remind me of Layth," Tasha tells the button as she begins undressing again. "Except, he'd tell me I'm being, what's the term he used? Self-doubting? Mopey? Well whatever it was, he's right. It's okay, you can agree. He is right." Now out of the uniform, Tasha puts it aside with the red dress. Maybe she can't wear it, but she can ask a seamstress to design uniforms like it. Since she's talking about confidence, she picks up a swimsuit and tries that on. "And with Nora, the closer I get to her the more confusing it is."

The bikini is like the dress in that it is 'self sticking', which is good since there are not straps are strings, not even for the bottom half. Technically, it could be considered a 'three piece' since there isn't anything connecting the upper pieces together.

"Gabriel would love this," Tasha remarks as she looks at herself, grinning a little. "I think I do too – and I'm amazed Nora wore it! Maybe we're not that different, her and I? What do you think?" The Vartan glances at the button, but, of course, doesn't expect an answer. "I think, maybe, what I see in Nora is what I could be, without seeing me. Maybe that's what Gabriel and Layth both mean when they say I'm not being myself, like with the Gauss rifle … moment."

Given the snugness and subtle support of the outfit, it could be high-end underwear designed to work with a shear or form-fitting dress, as much as something to go swimming in.

"Well, this is practical in a way. I think I'll keep it – if Nora doesn't tell me to put this all back!" Grinning a little more, and feeling a bit better, Tasha begins removing the swimwear and then gather her own clothes. "And that's a thing, too. It's not like Nora is perfect, right? I think I always thought so, but seeing how much she's like me – like all of us – has helped a bit. I don't feel like I'm trying to be someone perfect, just … someone. And if that someone is like Nora, that's okay, right? As long as that someone remembers she's also herself?" With her pants and tank-top on, Tasha picks up the button and attaches it to her top. "Come on, help me find something that makes those tubes make sense. The end was strange, so look for a connector."

The button sticks to the fabric of Tasha's clothing without any need for a fastener, but it doesn't seem to offer any solution to the issue of the tubes. A search of the room's various drawers and cabinets turns up an entertainment schedule for a month and year that Tasha has no reference for, but includes some dances and concerts and a plastic sealed magazine with a colorfully costumed pair of humans on the cover that also have capes blowing in the breeze, and the title Captain Cosmos and Galaxy Girl #1045 – Collector's Edition! above them.

"This I'll bring back to Nora's room," Tasha tells the pin, putting the comic aside without opening it. While colorful and cheery, its suspiciously manual-like design makes Tasha decide it's better off in Nora's hands. And while interesting, it doesn't help explain the tubes. Heading back for the black box, Tasha says, "I've never been to a dance or a … concert, that's like a opera or play, but with music, isn't it? They always seemed so hoity-toity – and look, that's a Nora- word! Most of these are, I think I forgot how to talk like I used to." Box opened, she pulls out a tube and turns it over, "hmm"ing.

It's only a few inches long and maybe half an inch thick. One end is a mesh grill, and there's only one control available – stud on the side that probably gets pushed or slid.

"Again, I need a manual," Tasha asides to the button. "I'm going to have Fred make me a manual that says, 'Manual to Doing Anything: Read The Manual.'" After turning the device over once more, Tasha notes the button and recognizes it for what it is. "Oh, there. See? I get it after a while. If only it were simple, like a optical-based artificial intelligence. But, this is a button. I bet you two were working together." Then, Tasha pokes the cylinder button.

There's a tiny puff sound, and suddenly Tasha smells… Nora. And several other Karnors that smell related, and older. Instead of photographs, Nora kept smellographs that would trigger actual memories.

Tasha blinks in the aroma, nose all snuffles. "It's … it's a scent! But, why … Oh!" It hits Tasha: only images make her more aware of memories than smells. She sniffs a bit more. "I don't think it's working for me," she admits, "Maybe I'm less of Nora than I think I am? Then I might have to admit to actually having succeeded because of … me!"

Kitty-button doesn't comment on the intricacies of olfactory memory, but does continue to stick its tongue out cutely and somehow encouragingly. There are nearly a dozen of the smellographs in the metal box.

"You're a good friend – you listen to me and never stop smiling. I think you're coming with me," Tasha tells her new 'button friend,' patting it a moment before putting down the scent device. She picks up another and tries again, continuing on in that fashion.

There are scents of places; grassy meadows, air that smells different than Tasha has experienced before, human and Karnor scents… and one that is most certainly post-coital, given that Tasha smells a bit like that herself at the moment. But it isn't clear if Nora's partner was another Karnor or not.

"Oi! I don't think I should have smelled that – oh well, it's too late now. And I am her sister," insists the Vartan. She carefully returns the scents to the box, then closes it. "But the others, some smelled like places – you don't think one was Terra do you? The homeworld?" Tasha's eyes widen. She knows of Terra, the human homeworld, but had never expected to potentially smell it. She's seen pictures, but her keen eyesight finds the unrealistic details in most images, so those were never quite as revealing as an actual scent. She takes a moment to appreciate the experience of another world – maybe even worlds – and then returns the last of the cylinders to the box. "Thank you, Nora," she murmurs, feeling she should say something for these private memories she has shared.

The cylinders look mass produced, so they must be popular among Karnors – or possibly other races, like the Khattas and Silent-Ones.

"Scents. I'll remember that, and try and get you something," Tasha decides aloud. Closing the box, the woman takes a step back and turns slowly, surveying the remainder. "Have I missed anything, button? You know, I feel a lot better? Being here helped me understand her, and understanding her a little more helped me realize what had been bothering me."

About the only places that hadn't been searched are the bathroom and under the mattress.

"Hmm." Heading for the mattress, Tasha tries to explain her experiences to her new 'friend.' "It was trying to be perfect, because I was afraid that if I wasn't, people around me would see the real me. That's why what Gabriel and Layth told me worried me so much, confused me so much. You understand now, too, don't you? Nora wasn't perfect, but I believed she was – because I wanted to be, too. So, they wouldn't see all my flaws, because I was afraid if they did, everything I tried so hard to be, to have, to make – even Gabriel – would be gone. And … I couldn't handle that." The Vartan bends over and begins lifting the mattress, knowing how visitors to the Fallen Friend liked to hide shekels there. "But it's alright, isn't it? Nora wasn't perfect – and the parts that weren't perfect just made her interesting. We're not that different. I think I'll try and relax now – I'm glad I came here. It's funny, I thought this place would be almost sacred, but what I found was a regular person. I know, that sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

There is something under the mattress that gives Tasha a bit of a shock, as it's clearly a piece of Karnor anatomy… but after a moment she can tell it isn't real, just a facsimile.

"Um … !" Tasha drops the mattress and steps back, needing a moment to let the heat leave leave her face, stunned, until she just starts laughing. She covers the buttons eyes as she carefully nudges things better left undiscovered back into place. When she's done – and can finally stop laughing like a maniac – she shakes her head. "We're not different at all," she confirms. "And if Nora can do it being just a regular person, so can I." She steps back again, hurrying towards the bathroom to look around, feeling the need to vacate the bedroom as quickly as possible. Her hand slides from the button's face. "You can look now, but don't tell anyone about that – OR that I looked embarrassed."

In the bathroom, there is a 'fresher' cabinet for cleaning clothes, a sink, toilet, linen closet and a full length bathtub with a shower. There's also a bottle shaped vaguely like a cat, with the same smiling cat face as the button. There are only a few traces of original color on it, and it's transparent enough to see that whatever it once held is now a black layer of sludge at the bottom.

"Hey your insides turned to goo – time seem to do that to everything, doesn't it?" Tasha leans forward and sniffs at the goo, thinking whatever it is must have been scent-oriented.

All liquids and volatiles have long since evaporated, so the goo doesn't have any noticeable smell now. The brittle, cheap plastic of the bottle smells a bit though. It doesn't smell natural in any way, however.

Leaning back, Tasha rubs her nose and grimaces. "Chemicals. I guess this memory will stay in the past. It's a good laugh that Nora had something like this, though. It's good to remember to not be so serious all the time, isn't it? I think that's what you're both trying to tell me. Well come on, I think that's everything." Returning to the bedroom, Tasha gathers up the clothes she wore (or tried to wear), and a few other pieces she thinks will fit, along with her military jacket. Then she heads for the door, pausing just long enough to turn and look up again, saying, "Thanks again, Nora. Where ever you are, I hope you're happy and didn't mind your little sister taking a few of your memories with her. Even though you may be … be gone, I think you're still here. Maybe you are, in our Nora. I'll try and be the best sister I can be, and I'll do my best to see what you believed – what we both believe in – returns. Now, Gabriel's waiting for me so … Good bye, but not really. I'll take care of him, too."

Gabriel is still outside, and as soon as the door opens he says, "I thought I heard talking and laughing in there."

Tasha promptly hands her mate all the clothing she has gathered, then thumbs back towards the apartment. "I forgot something – and that was me talking to the button," she explains, before rushing back inside. Once in, she rushes to grab the comic and black box, having almost forgot them and thinking Nora would want them back. Not wanting to end up in tears, and feeling her parting words don't benefit well from some last minute rushing around, the Vartan hurries back towards the door, calling, "Bye, sister!" And then she's staring at Gabriel again, breathing a little heavy. "Whew."

"Button?" the clothes-burdened wolf asks in confusion.

The red woman points a finger at the smiling, tongue-sticking out cat pin on her tank top. "My new friend, Cat Face. He reminded me that I need to be less serious along with Nora, of course." Tasha then smiles widely, sticking her tongue out just the same.

Gabriel just blinks at this, then gives a few barks of laughter! "Of course! I wonder if she had that on her underwear too now," he finally says.

"I … I can't answer that! Gotta keep some of my sister's secrets, don't it? Especially when she knows mine!" She lets her goofy smile relax into more of a cheerful grin, then side-steps into her mate. "You know, I feel a lot better now. In at least some things, I think I understand her. And, well, maybe me, too."

"That's good to hear," Gabriel says, genuinely happy about it after the incident at the shooting range. "Did you want to clean up or anything before we meet back at the motor pool? I don't know if the PersoComs can smell anything, but… "

"Oh, that. That's something I'm really going to have to remember about being around so many nosy Karnors!" Tasha leans over and gives Gabriel a kiss on the side of the muzzle, then nods. "Let's find somewhere we can clean up – we can even talk about the new JEF!"