Cool aquamarine light hums from toxic tubes, signs which would assumedly spell something if viewed the right way round. On this rooftop, though, it's something of an art installation to girder and glow.
"You shouldn't sit there. It's dangerous." A gruff voice reminds her.
"I like sitting on the ledge. It feels like I'm flying."
She kicks her legs one at a time, each shake of her worn-loose boots risking a liftoff. He can't help but wince, and hope his re-cobbling can hold.
"Well... can you at least tighten your laces for me, sweetie?"
"Huh? Oh, sure!"
Leaning forward, a touch worryingly far, she mouths a tune to herself on the basic princials of shoe-tying. He hovers a hand over his daughter's shoulder, primed to grab tight at the slightest hint of slip. A pain in his elbow-replacement shoots through his shoulder, but he's used to this by now, refuses to move.
"Aaaand done!" She sits up straight.
"Great job. You're safe for flight."
"Hahah!" The young girl smiles wide. "Aye aye!"
"'Aye aye'? I'm not a pirate."
"Yeaaaah... you'd need a boat. Where is the ocean, anyways?"
Scratching his short beard, the father looks around at scrapes of metal and concrete. Buildings reinforced sentenced to disrepair by codes unenforced. He takes a scared hand and points to the horizon, joint whirring where his prosthetic meets flesh.
"Too many miles... ttttthat way."
"Kilometers, dad." Her eyes roll. "Too many kilometers."
"Right, right. At least y'all are getting your act together on that one."
The new generation may not be in positions to repair the broken scape, but they can at least measure its faults in agreed-upon units.
"Wish I could see it from here..." She huffs.
"Well, what're you looking at, then? Why sit here?"
"Cuuuuuuuz...." In much the same fashion she points in the distance, but at an object more describable. "That screen. Over there."
He squints, eyes in dire need of repair. Blurs of pinks and whites turn eventually to advertisement.
"It just looks like a billboard."
"Yeah. But there's clips from a band I like that play on there, all the time. Especially at night."
"...you can't hear it from here, though, can you?"
"No, but I can read the subtitles." She shrugs. "And it's what's there."
The thought strikes straight to his heart. What he wouldn't give to afford net access, for both their sakes, or at least a radio. Yet, if raising her has taught him anything, there must be something in the ashes worth loving.
Sighing, he takes his seat right next to her, arm slung easily over both her shoulders. He gives kicking his legs a go; he's got no shoes to loose.
"Tell me when they come up. I'll watch it with you."
"Really?!" Her eyes light up. "Okay! Uh, let me get you caught up..."
He decides it's okay to smile.