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Rosmontis cannot remember anything to do with vacations, in her life; she's looked through all her records, even though her memory is doing better these days. She did at least look up a few things off the Rhodes Island network, before the three of them were packed off to Siesta by the rest of the Command Center staff as a surprise.
But now that they're here—
Red's curled up on one end of the tiny loveseat sofa in the hotel room, having put their jacket back on after taking it off and putting it on and taking it off repeatedly all morning. This is the fifth time. They're currently idly spinning a knife between their fingers in a way that looks dangerous but Rosmontis knows them to be adept at.
Meanwhile, Amiya is pacing slightly in front of the window; she's under strict orders to not check her work messages to a degree that Kal'tsit asked Closure to turn off her access. She adjusts her hat, looking out at the skyline, like she's trying to decide if it's at the right angle for the sunlight.
And Rosmontis herself is recording all of this on her tablet, thoughtfully. Honestly, she's not really sure if she wants a vacation, even having read up on them. They're full of things she's not quite comfortable doing, in places she's not familiar with. She could be happy spending time in a room this size with Amiya and Red for just as long as they have in Siesta.
There's already nice things here. It's quiet; with the curtains pulled back a little bit, Amiya's eyes reflect the color of the sky really prettily. There's a bed big enough for all of them to curl up together, even if Red steals all the blankets.
Still, though—even if they've all grown into adults who are content doing things their own ways, and even if based on her observations of the more senior members of the administrative team, that's well understood—probably, if they're here, they should observe some new things, too.
Red takes their jacket off for the sixth time; Rosmontis records that, and then sets her tablet down on her knees. "Ah—Amiya," she says.
Amiya glances back at her, over her shoulder. "Mm—what is it?"
"I think... probably, there are some things here that you'd like. I looked them up a few days ago and wrote them down, so I wouldn't forget..."
Red sits up, too; Rosmontis remembers now that they prefer to have some kind of goal, rather than to just be idle, and their attention is on Rosmontis now. She takes that as a cue to continue, especially since Amiya's cocked her head, attentive. "Um... there's a concert hall—not like the big, noisy concert they had here last time. It's like what you play, Amiya."
"Oh—really?" Rosmontis notes down that Amiya's face lights up at the possibility. "If there's something we could get tickets to... although, shouldn't we go to the beach? If we go to Siesta and stay indoors the whole time..."
Red shrugs. "They made us take a whole week. If you want to go to the beach sometime... I'll go, too."
Rosmontis hums, lightly. "I think... I'd like to go, one of these days? I think... it seems like it would be a good thing to see, since I don't think I've ever been to one, before..." She pauses. "Also, my entry from four days ago says Closure showed me what swimsuits she ordered in for both of you, and they were really cute. 'Really, really cute,' was what I wrote."
"Rosmontis!" Amiya goes entirely pink in the face, and across the room, Red snorts, softly, ducking their head a little.
Red's not exactly shy, but Rosmontis is still working out the best way to compliment them, because they definitely have a lot of really cute faces, even if most people can't distinguish them. She's put a lot of effort into cataloguing the really important ones; the way their expression softens around the eyes when they're happy, the way their ears twitch on the rare occasion something surprises them. She notes down this one, too, in today's entry.
"Closure will tease you a little if you don't use it, right?" says Rosmontis, propping her elbows on her knees. "But I think... probably, we can go listen to the music tonight. Because, I think... everyone wants us to have time to do things we like, and maybe to do more figuring out of things we like, too."
"I'm still... fine wherever both of you are," Red says. "There's not... anything I want to do, for myself. This is enough."
...which makes Rosmontis herself a little flustered; in a way, it's like Amiya calling her cute, except that kind of admission is rarer from Red, who's very strictly practical. "Um—" Rosmontis looks back down at her tablet. "It looks like we can just walk over there, so... definitely, if we go soon, we can make the evening show..."
Being three young adults raised in a paramilitary lifestyle means when it's time to go, departure is swift. It's not all smooth—Rosmontis realizes that, when they hit the streets, that there's the really big nightlife crowds to get through, and freezes up. But Red's good at elbowing through crowds, taking both of them by a hand each and clearing a path.
(No knives involved, either. Mostly? There might have been a couple yells of "Ouch," but she didn't have her tablet out to record it, so truly, who can say.)
And neither Rosmontis nor Red are the greatest at talking to people, but when they get to the venue, Amiya takes point on getting them three seats in a quiet upper box. There, in the near-dark, Amiya closes her eyes and listens with rapt attention—they're not the best seats for viewing, but the sound is good, and she has a perfect peaceful smile on her face that Rosmontis is sure she'll remember long enough to note down on her tablet, afterward.
Red leans slightly against Amiya's shoulder; Rosmontis tucks herself in under Amiya's chin. They're the only people in this box—probably most other people their age are going to more lively venues in Siesta. But none of them have ever been like most people their age—first by circumstance, and then by choice.
And for now? Even without being able to go back through her records, Rosmontis is pretty sure this is the loveliest thing she's ever experienced.