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Barclay knows what Mama is doing.
He can't exactly tell her that, though, as she packs a bag that's clearly intended for a long, dangerous trip, one that he knows he can't talk her out of.
He sets her coffee down on her desk, which, for once, has a few square inches without papers or weapons covering them, probably due to the fact that most of her weapons have either been hidden or jammed into that backpack of hers. She looks up at him with a sheepish smile that he knows means "thank you" and "how did you know" at the same time, and he just nods in acceptance. She downs half the coffee in one go, then sighs, staring down into the mug instead of just setting it down like she usually would.
"Where are you going?" Barclay shifts against the wall, trying not to let Mama's dark expression intimidate him. He knows Mama well enough to know that she won't answer, though. At least, not if she's going where he thinks she is.
"I just gotta pick somethin' up." That's the answer she uses for everything– Tracking down rogue Sylvans, delivering sculptures to buyers, and going to chat with her few non-Sylvan friends. (She hasn't done the latter in a few years. Barclay would force the issue, if she'd admit that she's had more than two friends in the first place.) Usually, though, she's a bit more honest with Barclay.
He doesn't press her any further, deciding he'd rather keep her trust than try too hard to get the truth, as awful as that thought feels.
There's more silence as she keeps packing. When she looks up, she doesn't make eye contact, so Barclay stops looking at her. There's a bulletin board on the side of the room that she's already cleared off for the next hunt. Barclay can't help but find that foreboding– Usually, he's the one to clear the bulletin board, after a few weeks of insistence that, no, they won't need the information anytime soon, and he's written it all down, anyways.
Mama's been living like this for so long that Barclay wouldn't doubt that she's forgotten how else to live. It's like she only sees the darkest possibilities, the conspiracies that people seem to think are built into Kepler on a molecular level. (As a part of several of those conspiracies, Barclay thinks that's an unfair assumption. Sure, there's conspiracies. But they aren't as all-consuming as people think. There's a town full of living, breathing people who choose not to press, instinctively protecting themselves from what they all know, on some level, is there. And it's not just humans protecting themselves.)
"I might be gone for a while."
Barclay looks up with a start. Mama rubs the bridge of her nose, not even looking up from the desk as she continues.
"You're gonna have to keep 'em together while I'm gone, okay? I– I know you can, I'm not worried about that, but... You might have to lead 'em, Barclay. And I don't know if you know you can."
There's another moment of silence as Barclay waits for her to continue. When she doesn't, he fills the gap himself. "Maybe I can, but we both know I can't lead them like you can. So you're gonna have to come back as soon as you're done."
Mama laughs drily. "You know I will. I shouldn't be too long, not like–" She stops herself, but Barclay knows who she's thinking of. Wherever Thacker went, he's not coming back, so Mama's half-comparison still makes him uneasy. She sighs deeply, takes another sip of her coffee, and finally looks up at Barclay's face. "I'm gonna come back, and I'm gonna come back soon. I don't know when, but I'm never leavin' y'all for good, okay? You can't get rid of me that easy."
Barclay laughs at that. "I'd say it's the other way around, but... I guess that's fair, too."
Mama smiles, and Barclay knows that's not a lie. Despite everything, it's calming. They stand in silence for a moment before Mama walks around her desk and wraps the arm that's not busy holding her bag around Barclay. He returns the gesture in the least emotional way possible, not wanting to spook her. They stand for a moment, still, before Mama sighs, pulling back and heading for the office door. "I'll see you later, Barclay."
"Yeah. Stay safe, okay?"
"I'm always safe." With that, Mama crosses through the door, leaving Barclay alone in her office.
He stares past the back wall for a while before walking over to the desk and putting a hand on its surface. The mess covering it is different today, and he picks up a few of the papers on top, flipping through them. They're Mama's personal notes on the abominations they've seen lately, written in shorthand that Barclay barely understands and scribbled on in every color of pen imaginable. He sighs, straightening them into a stack and circling her desk to put them in the drawer with Thacker's computer. The keys to Mama's truck catch Barclay's eye, intentionally left on top of the center of the mess.
She's been so obsessive lately, he almost thinks her trip to Sylvain will be good for her. Depending on what she's doing, anyways. And, hey, at least she left the keys. It's a pretty subtle hint, but it's a step above what Thacker did.
Barclay puts the papers away, then looks around Mama's office. It feels empty without her, the mess feeling even more claustrophobic than usual.
On the bright side, though... If she's on her way to another planet, Mama can't stop him from cleaning it up.