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She's used to people staring, at least, the red eyes and white hair still tend to get that reaction from newcomers, but she's not quite used to being looked at exactly like that. Like she's something strange and magical and--well, beautiful. Only Credence had ever looked at her that way. It's...difficult, to keep from doing the same, and she keeps looking at him, then away. It helps to focus on Kuro instead as she leads the way through the short foyer and into the open plan of her room. He'd helped her pick it out, from a magazine, once upon a time. Hours spent poring over pictures until they found a place that looked more like a home and less like a prison cell.

The cats aren't in a separate room, really; they're currently lounging on the couches in the living area, though at the sound of his voice the two fluffy masses both lift their heads, yawning and stretching as Kuro opts for the better part of valor and ducks behind Shiro's legs. "Yeah--this is Kuro. He's been here with me for a while now. About two years." Which is crazy to think. "There's also Goosifer--Newt found him one of the last places the barge docked. He had a broken wing. I took care of him, because otherwise he was going to die, and now he's staying until he finds a place he likes to be better." Which might be giving the goose a little more credit for intelligence than he deserves, but maybe not, based on the look he gives the others from his preferred resting place on top of the bright yellow piano. "Here are the cats. Do you...?" Remember their names, she wants to ask. Remember them. Goldstein is the first to trot over, stretching at Credence's feet before investigating his legs.

Credence doesn't. Or he thinks he doesn't, but then he's being loudly yowled at by one white cat and one swiftly approaching black cat and Ray was right, they are huge. He crouches down to meet them.

"Goldstein," he says quietly, to the white cat. Quentin told him the name of one of them, but he has no conscious reason to know that the white odd-eyed cat is the one he named after Tina.

The familiar name brings a sharp pang to Shiro's heart, bittersweet. He knew. He knew, and maybe that means that there is still some part of the Credence she knew, the one she loves, inside this person, too. "Yeah," she answers softly, crouching herself, though her hands are buried in the thick ruff of Kuro's fur, instead, trying to steady herself. "That's Goldstein. The other one is Coldwater." And both of them are greeting him like someone they know, like they've missed him, because they have, Shiro thinks. They all have.

"Coldwater," he echoes, reaching out with his other hand to pet this huge, strange cat who is very much into it. "Why did - why did he call him that?"

"Named him after a very good friend," she answers softly, and her voice is remarkably steady, considering. "Both of them, I think. I never met Tina, but I know--Credence and Quentin were really good friends. They'd do anything for each other."

"Quentin."

Credence shuts his eyes for a moment absorbing the sensation of thick fur under his hands, the cats' low purring.

"...I killed him. He said he let me do it."

"I guessed he would have." She looks down at Kuro, then over at Credence, watching him. She'd like to reach out to him, too, but it doesn't seem fair. He doesn't remember her.

"He wouldn't ever want to hurt you. Not for anything. Not even if you aren't the Credence he knew. And death isn't permanent here, if you can die. So he knew it wouldn't last."

One of the cats starts climbing up onto him, and Credence gathers him into his arms, an odd reflex he didn't know he had.

"I didn't." He closes his eyes tightly. "I shouldn't have done any of that. I know."

It's such a familiar sight she can't look away. Maybe he will remember, she thinks, but it's not fair to expect it.

"At least you know you shouldn't have," she says, a faint shrug. "Nobody here deserves to die. But it's--hard. When you're confused and you don't know what's happening, and people tell you you're somebody you don't remember being. It's hard when you're used to--protecting yourself, by killing other people. I know." She looks away from him, back at Kuro. "If I knew what was happening I would have come up sooner, but I couldn't leave the room." She hadn't finished out her dance card until late, and so there had been no doors, and then after... there'd been nowhere to go.

"If I'd seen you then I would have tried to hurt you too." And whether or not he might have been successful: "It's better that you weren't there."

"You couldn't hurt me. Not permanently, anyway." She sounds certain. "That's--one of the things that was...good. For both of us. Me and him, I mean. We're both...really hard to kill." So he doesn't have to worry about that. She just wishes she could have been there, because then maybe those people wouldn't have died and he wouldn't feel bad.

Credence glances down at his palm. His scars. Just because the pain goes away, doesn't mean it stops hurting in the moment.

He thinks, not especially rationally, that he would have rather killed those three men than hurt her.

"I'm never going to try."

To kill her. To hurt her.

It's strange hearing him say the words. Saying them like that, with that sort of conviction.

"...I know." A beat before she keeps going. "You want me to help you get them and their stuff back to your room? They like you, and I trust you to take care of them." Whatever version of Credence he might be, he'd never hurt animals. She's got faith in that. "I mean--you don't have to go now, if you don't want. You can stay." With her.

"...I'd like the help. And - you can see my room? I think it must be different now."

He's by no means asking to give up her company.

"I'd like that." Because even if he doesn't remember, he's still a version of Credence, and she's selfish enough to not want to give that up.

It doesn't take her long to collect the cats' food and water bowls, food, toys and a sweater they'd grown particularly fond of using as a bed and put them all into a bag which she slings over her shoulder before bending down to scoop up whichever cat Credence isn't carrying. Kuro gets told to stay, and she waits for him to lead the way. She knows where his room used to be, but it might be different now.

It's in the same place. However, the simple oak has been replaced by grand mahogany with brass fixtures; when Credence opens the door, it leads into the opulently appointed bedroom he was given in Nurmengard Castle. Dark green, handprinted wallpaper; bookshelves, a four-poster bed and heavy swagged curtains over a grand window. Intricately patterned rugs over a stone floor.

And yet he looks uncomfortable, incongruous in the kind of space that fit effortlessly around Grindelwald.

"You can - there's a corner over there we can use for their things," he suggests, lightly setting Goldstein down on the bed.

The door is different, but the interior is even moreso. Bending to set Coldwater down to begin his explorations of the room, Shiro moves to set the bag down in the indicated corner, setting up the food and water bowls, getting everything set before standing again. It doesn't take long, and when her hands are empty, she moves back towards him, looking around.

"It's...really different." And she looks closely at him, distinctly uncomfortable, before continuing: "Are you okay with it? Your warden can change it, if you want something different. I changed my room."

"No. This is fine for me," Credence says, sounding very nearly convinced. "I chose to be here. I just wish I could show you the view."

The mountains, the lakes, the solitude - not just the starry space beyond the ship.

He chose to be here, he says, and it sounds like that's part of a bigger story. All part of whatever's happened since the last time he was here. She wants to ask.

"You could show me in the Enclosure. It can show any place. If you want."

Credence looks up from where he's watching the cats - his cats? - explore the new space.

"It's enchanted?"

"Mm, sort of? Not sure if it's magic or science," she answers a little thoughtfully. "Maybe a little both, like the rest of the Barge. It can make any place you want. Not people, but places are fine. I like using it to visit new places, ones I read about. Have you been yet?"

Credence shakes his head.

"No. I found some locked doors, places I couldn't get into. Is it one of them?"

"Yeah. Some places you need a warden item to get into. The Enclosure, the lounge, kitchens, maintenance closet. Any place with important or dangerous stuff." It's a little awkward to talk about, but it does make sense. "It doesn't mean inmates aren't allowed, just...need someone else with you."

"Because this is a prison," Credence says, voice a little dull. "I understand."

"No," she says, and her voice is a little stronger. "It's not. Not like you mean. It's like--" she pauses for a second, reaching for an analogy that might be easier to grasp.

"Credence told me about a place called Purgatory, the first time we talked. An in-between place, where people could learn to make different choices. To be better. The barge is like that. I grew up in a prison. This place isn't meant to keep people locked away in little boxes forever." She wouldn't still be here if it was--or she'd have been an inmate forever.

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