And what a fucking week it turns out to be, from then on. What an exciting, draining, terrifying, worrying week. It's a following night well spent, and then days before she sees him again in any proper way. That the first proper meeting to come follows three days' complete absence ought to explain the way she literally drops the clothing she's carting into the suite when she sees him, waiting on the couch.
How she manages to work herself up to a sprint over such a small space, we may never know.
She drops to a knee, immediately, gently taking up his metal hand. Easier to crush her own with, but hopefully less sensitive than the flesh hand. He has his sensory issues, even now she remembers, but she needs solid proof. Needs him to be abundantly physically present.
"Christ, are you okay now? You-- I wasn't expecting all that, I'm so sorry, what happened?" Where he was, she can at least guess. What went on is more her concern.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-05-07 10:57 pm (UTC)How she manages to work herself up to a sprint over such a small space, we may never know.
She drops to a knee, immediately, gently taking up his metal hand. Easier to crush her own with, but hopefully less sensitive than the flesh hand. He has his sensory issues, even now she remembers, but she needs solid proof. Needs him to be abundantly physically present.
"Christ, are you okay now? You-- I wasn't expecting all that, I'm so sorry, what happened?" Where he was, she can at least guess. What went on is more her concern.