( at his expression quill knows that he's now thinking of his nightmares, thinking of the pain he revisits each night and she regrets asking the question. it had been a momentary deflection from herself, a hope of some better thing but instead--
she sighs, shifting on the bed before getting up from it )
I'll make coffee.
( and one for him. she doesn't bother for the moment with grabbing any clothes, just heading out towards the kitchen to start boiling the water, pulling two mugs down.
getting out of the room helps a little, as if she's closing the door to her memories by leaving them in the bedroom. they're not gone or forgotten, tension still in her shoulders as she makes the drinks, lingering emotion in her expression, but that and doing something at least distracts. temporarily )
[ He can't provide an answer for her, not one that can somehow resolve the tension that follows up the haunting wake of a nightmare, though he's sure that isn't what she's seeking.
When she rises, he watches her in stillness, mind momentarily distracted in his own thoughts even as she sways up and out of the bedroom.
He runs a palm over his eyes, subbing the sleep still there as he takes another minute of silence before rising himself from the mattress. Sliding boxer briefs back over his thighs, he makes the way out the door to meet her in the kitchen, sliding his hips against the counter. ]
( she doesn't speak until after sliding one of the mugs towards him, hands holding her own close to her, letting the warmth try to guard against the chill of the air against bare skin, the cold of the kitchen floor )
It's the only one I have.
( there was no end to the nightmares, no stopping of the guilt. quill wanted only one thing, one justice but it was impossible to her. she couldn't kill anyone anymore and the one particular weapon would be out of reach even if she was free )
I make coffee and spend the time hating my captor.
( thinking of the ways she'd love to kill him or take revenge, of the things that could happen if only she could let it )
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no subject
she sighs, shifting on the bed before getting up from it )
I'll make coffee.
( and one for him. she doesn't bother for the moment with grabbing any clothes, just heading out towards the kitchen to start boiling the water, pulling two mugs down.
getting out of the room helps a little, as if she's closing the door to her memories by leaving them in the bedroom. they're not gone or forgotten, tension still in her shoulders as she makes the drinks, lingering emotion in her expression, but that and doing something at least distracts. temporarily )
no subject
When she rises, he watches her in stillness, mind momentarily distracted in his own thoughts even as she sways up and out of the bedroom.
He runs a palm over his eyes, subbing the sleep still there as he takes another minute of silence before rising himself from the mattress. Sliding boxer briefs back over his thighs, he makes the way out the door to meet her in the kitchen, sliding his hips against the counter. ]
Coffee's a good alternative.
no subject
It's the only one I have.
( there was no end to the nightmares, no stopping of the guilt. quill wanted only one thing, one justice but it was impossible to her. she couldn't kill anyone anymore and the one particular weapon would be out of reach even if she was free )
I make coffee and spend the time hating my captor.
( thinking of the ways she'd love to kill him or take revenge, of the things that could happen if only she could let it )