Around the dorms [Early Friday afternoon]
Hilshire had stopped at a 24-hour pharmacy (which he described as 'very convenient') to pick up a simple arm sling and an over-sized pair of tweezers. He'd wanted to remove the two bullets from her arm right there in the parking lot, but Triela had shot him a sour look which had made him shrug and start driving. She pulled them while they were on the road. Most of the trip was spent in awkward silence. The one time Hilshire asked how she was she bit out a tight "Fine" and he let it drop. She wasn't fine, really. Triela hated getting shot.
Eventually they arrived back in fandom. Triela kept her irritation under control and just nodded her head as Hilshire told her that he'd be in touch within the next week about her trip back to the Agency for repairs. As if she didn't know how things worked.
He helped her unload her cello case from the car and then they stood there awkwardly without quite looking at each other. After about a minute he sighed and nodded. "You did very well, Triela," he said as he climbed back into the car and drove off. Triela stood there, stunned, two expressions fighting for space on her face: a pleased smile (her handler thought she did a good job) and an annoyed glare (of course she did a good job; that's what she did!). When neither expression had managed to win twenty seconds later she settled for a tired sigh.
With Hilshire out of range again she had to deal with all the conflicting emotions that brought on. Relief that he was okay, relaxation because the conditioning's constant push to impress him subsided, and a tightness in her chest at the fact that she couldn't protect him now. Rubbing her face irritably, she knew that she'd spend the next week or two being insufferably irritable.
Triela took a deep breath and awkwardly picked up all three oof her bags with just her right hand. She still had to get her stuff back to her room before crossing campus to re-store her weapons. One arm in a sling and the other balancing her bags precariously, she trudged back to her room.
[People should feel free to catch Triela anywhere around the dorms, including her room.]
Eventually they arrived back in fandom. Triela kept her irritation under control and just nodded her head as Hilshire told her that he'd be in touch within the next week about her trip back to the Agency for repairs. As if she didn't know how things worked.
He helped her unload her cello case from the car and then they stood there awkwardly without quite looking at each other. After about a minute he sighed and nodded. "You did very well, Triela," he said as he climbed back into the car and drove off. Triela stood there, stunned, two expressions fighting for space on her face: a pleased smile (her handler thought she did a good job) and an annoyed glare (of course she did a good job; that's what she did!). When neither expression had managed to win twenty seconds later she settled for a tired sigh.
With Hilshire out of range again she had to deal with all the conflicting emotions that brought on. Relief that he was okay, relaxation because the conditioning's constant push to impress him subsided, and a tightness in her chest at the fact that she couldn't protect him now. Rubbing her face irritably, she knew that she'd spend the next week or two being insufferably irritable.
Triela took a deep breath and awkwardly picked up all three oof her bags with just her right hand. She still had to get her stuff back to her room before crossing campus to re-store her weapons. One arm in a sling and the other balancing her bags precariously, she trudged back to her room.
[People should feel free to catch Triela anywhere around the dorms, including her room.]