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Susan cherishes her time in the lab with Galahad. She likes the care he takes, his attention to detail. It's lovely to know that they can work equally well in parallel, side-by-side with complimentary tasks, quiet and totally focused on their individual projects, and in collaboration. When they do speak, he's delightfully precise with his words and direct with his questions in a way that is, in turn, novel and refreshing. They've made great headway with their work, and now that the Mansion has settled into winter and there are fewer arthropods to easily discover and inventory, outside of the soil samples they continue to take and investigate under the microscope, they can settle into cataloguing and categorizing their notes from the spring, summer, and autumn. Sometimes Constance is present, too, and that's also lovely: they all get along well, and there's something ever so settling about three heads bent carefully over scientific pursuits. Typically, when Constance is there, Susan and Galahad work independently so as not to distract her, but sometimes the three of them break for tea and a brief chat. Outside of sex and archery practice, it's really one of the highlights of Susan's days.

Today's stint in the lab has been varied: Constance is elsewhere, and Susan and Galahad started with a discussion about adapting Earth-based classification systems to accommodate otherworldly species (this is a conversation that they have weekly, at the very least), and then fell into separate projects - Galahad has been drawing insects not captured in any books in the library to create a scientific field guide for their local environs, and Susan has been counting microscopic organisms in winter soil samples to compare with the measurements Lan Zhan took on the day Lan Wangji was switched out. But there's also something pressing on her conscience: the year is slipping more rapidly toward Dark, and she's been procrastinating on an essential task out of reluctance to speak to Magnus. It's high time she regain momentum.

She pushes back from the microscope, makes a careful note of the current tally of living organisms, and turns to Galahad. "When you've got a moment," she says, "I should like to show you something." Cognizant of the fact that he gets easily chilled, and to provide him with an out should he require one, she clarifies, "Outside."

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"Not often. He's taken Sunny twice and Alex three times. Gu Xiang once."

This assuages a small amount of Susan's concern, but not all of it. She still dreads sitting down with him - even with Lancelot there - to discuss her request.

"Why?"

"Lancelot and I have been working on a project in Little John's old quarters. It's what I should like to show you."

In spite of his measured responses, he's now tremendously curious about what Susan is working on -- though he still only nods quietly. "I would like to see."

"You know that Dark is rapidly approaching," she says, as the woods loom closer. "We've got about a month before it begins."

"Yes." He's been keeping track of that too.

"And you know I've been making preparations." They haven't really discussed it outright, but she hasn't hid that fact from anyone, and throughout the year, she and Tress have put out a number of leaflets and Welcome Table announcements about the stages of preserving fresh foods and setting goods aside in anticipation of the month.

"Yes." Claudius has remarked on it, too.

Susan slips along one of the side-trails she's been taking to the caves, gesturing for Galahad to follow. It's a short distance this way, well under the cover of trees from any prying eyes. "Setting aside stores, that sort of thing."

"You have stored up supplies in the caves."

"Most of the supplies are in varying pantries in the Mansion," casting another look over at him. "But I wanted a cache of supplies Luo Binghe doesn't know about and to which he hasn't ever had access."

Galahad's back, already sword-straight, manages to straighten further, and his gaze sharpens. "You know."

Susan nods. "Bacchus told me," she says. "When we were casting the play, since Luo Binghe auditioned. He wanted to explain why he didn't wish to involve him in the production. It goes without saying that naturally I agreed he mustn't be included."

"I should have told you," he says, allowing himself the space of a few seconds for self-recrimination. Then he releases it: it's unhelpful and self-indulgent to linger. Susan knows, and it's good she knows. "Good. Luo Binghe has done nothing to make amends to Claudius or to our community."

"I ought also to have spoken to you when I first heard of it," says Susan. She pauses, mere yards from the entrance to the caves, and touches Galahad's arm. There, she catches his eye with her own unwavering, unyielding gaze. "And to have apprised you of my preparations from the start. I apologize that I did not. I wanted to ensure that my plans might work, so as not to get Claudius's hopes up - or yours - but I'm afraid it might've prolonged some sense of ignorance about Claudius's plight, or lack of care about his torture. I assure you that's not the case. I -" A slight pause. "I didn't know how best to strike the balance." If it sounds rehearsed, it's because Susan has thought through multiple versions of this interaction, privately and in conversation with Lancelot - she wants to be sure she's conducting herself as appropriately as possible.

Galahad barely perceives the recitation in her speech, but if he could he'd still understand; he's practiced his words before when it was important.

"I understand why you did not," slowly, making certain that this is true. "You wanted to come to us with something certain."

"Yes, precisely," relieved as always that she and Galahad can understand each other so plainly. She flashes as smile at him and ducks into the cave's entrance, switching on her electric torch and gesturing for him to follow. "Would you like to hear of the preparations I've set in motion?"

"I would," he answers, as he follows her inside. The cave hasn't changed much, but there's always a sense of stepping into another world.

By now, Susan has sorted out the most expeditious route to Little John's former quarters, and she takes it now, neatly skirting around a rockfall at the edge of the larger, semi-open room of the cavern that serves as a hub, of sorts, between different parts of the system and heading straight for the stairs. As she walks, she says, "In addition to a pantry - inconveniently-located though it may be - to which he hasn't got access and about which he's got no knowledge," she says, "Constance and I are working on a way of testing whether he's contaminated additional food or drinks. In the meantime... I've been warned off confronting him directly, and that he shan't take kindly to interventions, but if he had shown up at Wanderer's Gather," and she's glad he did not, "he wouldn't have been allowed anywhere near the food. I hope to confine his kitchen use to one location, used by no one else, but I haven't sorted out a way to do it yet. SecUnit might be able to monitor his kitchen usage, but consequences for violating the restrictions are harder to establish. Lan Wangji and Bacchus are both concerned by his power set."

Galahad is silent -- overwhelmed. This is what Claudius has always wanted, and thought impossible for so long: a community that closed ranks around him, not to attack Luo Binghe, but to protect Claudius from him, to treat what happened to him as unacceptable, and to take steps to prevent it from happening again or to anyone else. He understands now why Susan thought it important to show him these things. He knows how Claudius will feel, being told.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"It's the least I can do," says Susan, with real regret. "I should like to be able to do more."

They've reached the stairs up to the little room she and Lancelot have been converting into food storage. Together they've figured out enough basic carpentry and found enough extant supplies that there's a locking door at its entrance. She opens it, and then gives Galahad the spare key. Inside, though they've not yet removed the old bed, shelves crowd every wall, and on each shelf lies food she's ferried in secret from the Mansion: preserves she's made and found; great dried meats and sausages, wheels of cheese, vats of flour and grain, and all the beer and wine that Little John had left behind. Some of the shelves are clearly attempts produced by amateurs. The skill with which they're built improves deeper into the room.

He puts the key into his messenger bag with his other important items, hardly taking his attention from the vast quantities of supplies Susan has amassed. It becomes clear to him that she didn't do this alone, and that, too, is striking: Lancelot worked, too, to make this place safer for Claudius, in spite of their initial enmity.

"Thank you," again. His voice is very flat, expressionless.

By now, Susan has come to understand that when Galahad is particularly flat, he's feeling a very great deal. She takes a step closer and rests a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm, lingering squeeze. Theirs isn't a relationship that has, historically, been given to physical touch, but Susan is a profoundly tactile woman and she finds she hasn't got interest in holding herself back in this moment. "Of course," she says, because it isn't as if there was anything else she might do, given the way she's positioned herself in their society, once she'd learned of what happened. "I admit that I'm torn. I should like anyone to be able to fetch food from here if needed, but if very many people know of it and have access, it's likely he would find some way to gain entry."

"Are there people you trust to be distributors?" he asks. He's not inclined to return her touch, but he appreciates it.

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