[... good plan, even though it earns him a narrow sort of a look. There aren't a lot of ways she could be more stressed right now, but getting kicked out of medbay would do the trick. WIth the spoon confiscated she taps her thumb in its place.]
Like everything else in this place, then. Questions and questions and never a goddamn answer. Christ, for all we know it's Ward and Resnik making these posts.
[Unfuckinglikely, and her tone says as much, but in a way it would be comforting not to have to add any new names to the list of people who've proved they can't be trusted.]
[She gets an annoyed look right back for her trouble, but he's reaching out to scoot the tray toward him, out of her way, in case she has an outburst that isn't as minor as tapping her thumb. One that might end up with soup and splattered potato everywhere. Why he's so calm and quiet, he has no idea, and in the face of her upset he feels like he's doing something wrong for not being more aggravated.
But it's just a sigh and a quiet reply, less admission than statement of fact.]
[Really with the tray? But she can't get aggravated about it, not with the way he sounds. She's already up to her eyeballs in - problems, questions, whatever you want to call them. What's one more, if it helps? So she asks, nods towards him, and the edge in her voice is gone.]
[Easier to move the tray than to clean up brown bean soup, and she was edging toward pissed anyway.]
Everything else I told ya about, before that. People. Garden shit.
[Her, but he doesn't go so far as to mention her exclusively. Simply pauses, and, since she seems less likely to clock someone now than she was a minute ago, presses the spoon back into her hand and lets his join.]
[And back to the start, still with no answers. Chasing their tails. It's a relief, though, that there's nothing else big to add to the pile, and she laughs a little grimly as she gives her the silverware. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nederland.]
I've been ignoring the network, but I'll answer if you call me.
[It sounds weird without the rest of the sentiment attached - just let me know if I can help - but she'd have to qualify it with from here. There's not much she can think of right now that would get her away, and even as she's thinking it her eyes flick to the open door, across to Alex's room.]
[While he doesn't come anywhere near a smile, there's something a little lighter in his response.]
Might. Boring down here.
[Calling would let him check up and keep her from going crazy with worry, so he puts that into the mental schedule along with "think of a story to tell" - or maybe a poem, something distracting at least. After coming down here and giving her ten more things to worry about he feels like he owes her that much.
But he sees that her attention's already moving across the hall and he's got shit to do. He scoops up Lodewijk, sticks him in the basket, and hovers for a second before leaning back in to kiss her.]
wasn't really her point but he's not wrong. There's really nothing to do except listen to the quiet ping and beep of machines, the muffed whoosh of the equipment that's breathing for Alex, and if she listens to that for too long she starts to convince herself that he'll never be able to go without it, or that she's back in her room in Alchemilla hospital. His voice will be a welcome relief, even if he's just bitching at her about the state of the Gardens.
She leans up into the kiss, reaches up to cup his jaw as she does. The gesture's on of gratitude rather than heat or need, reflected in the softness of the touch.]
Thanks.
[And a little grateful ear-scritch for Lodewijk, too. Thanks for coming, little guy.]
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Like everything else in this place, then. Questions and questions and never a goddamn answer. Christ, for all we know it's Ward and Resnik making these posts.
[Unfuckinglikely, and her tone says as much, but in a way it would be comforting not to have to add any new names to the list of people who've proved they can't be trusted.]
You have any theories?
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But it's just a sigh and a quiet reply, less admission than statement of fact.]
Been more worried about other shit.
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Other shit like what?
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Everything else I told ya about, before that. People. Garden shit.
[Her, but he doesn't go so far as to mention her exclusively. Simply pauses, and, since she seems less likely to clock someone now than she was a minute ago, presses the spoon back into her hand and lets his join.]
no subject
I've been ignoring the network, but I'll answer if you call me.
[It sounds weird without the rest of the sentiment attached - just let me know if I can help - but she'd have to qualify it with from here. There's not much she can think of right now that would get her away, and even as she's thinking it her eyes flick to the open door, across to Alex's room.]
no subject
Might. Boring down here.
[Calling would let him check up and keep her from going crazy with worry, so he puts that into the mental schedule along with "think of a story to tell" - or maybe a poem, something distracting at least. After coming down here and giving her ten more things to worry about he feels like he owes her that much.
But he sees that her attention's already moving across the hall and he's got shit to do. He scoops up Lodewijk, sticks him in the basket, and hovers for a second before leaning back in to kiss her.]
no subject
wasn't really her point but he's not wrong. There's really nothing to do except listen to the quiet ping and beep of machines, the muffed whoosh of the equipment that's breathing for Alex, and if she listens to that for too long she starts to convince herself that he'll never be able to go without it, or that she's back in her room in Alchemilla hospital. His voice will be a welcome relief, even if he's just bitching at her about the state of the Gardens.
She leans up into the kiss, reaches up to cup his jaw as she does. The gesture's on of gratitude rather than heat or need, reflected in the softness of the touch.]
Thanks.
[And a little grateful ear-scritch for Lodewijk, too. Thanks for coming, little guy.]