A few months ago, Dave would have felt a stab of envy at Kevin Laine for that, even after everything. Whatever his father would feel at his own death, 'lost' probably doesn't really describe it.
But all that's ended now. Ended a while ago, really, and all he feels is genuine sorrow for Sol Laine. Who lost his only, his golden son.
"Still."
It probably wouldn't have helped Sol; it's not for Sol that he feels he should have gone.
Belatedly, Dave realizes that they're standing in the doorway. Which would not be such a bad thing, perhaps, if there weren't people passing by every few minutes.
He shifts position, a little, drawing one arm out from behind her while keeping the other around her shoulders; closes the door with his free hand (there are benefits to being a big man with long arms) and starts to steer her gently the few steps towards the couch.
"You're kidding, right?" Dave says, looking down at her, and then, before she can answer: "I've got, uh. Kitchen supplies are pretty meager, but - there's tea?"
Two black teabags get dropped into the kettle (it's easier than doing the individual-teabags-to-a-cup thing) and Dave puts it off the heat, then crosses the kitchen restlessly while he waits for it to steep.
"Been a while since I had guests," he explains, looking rather embarrassed.
"Don't worry about it," Kim tells him, and then, without thinking and before she can stop herself from asking,
"Doesn't it bother you that way, though? Without-- I mean, if it's quiet all the time?"
Even as she says it, she thinks of her own apartment, which feels so much larger and more hollow without Jennifer-- and then of Sol Laine's house, so empty and near-echoing, and of how shrunken and old he'd looked.
Kim's smile fades, and she looks down at her hands, ringless now, with the Baelrath long gone.
Kim's standing outside, staring at the ground, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Even though it's a summer's day, she still feels chilled.
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He looks at her for a moment; opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens his arms instead, pulling her awkwardly into a hug.
He's no good at this kind of thing, he's never been, but - well, she looks like she needs it.
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It takes a few moments before a small shudder runs through her as some of the tension seeps away.
Kim doesn't raise her head, and so her voice is a little muffled at first.
"Thanks."
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"I should've gone with you," he mutters, his own voice gruff.
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She looks up at him, white hair falling back from her face as she tilts her head. Kim's eyes are troubled.
"He's just... he's so lost."
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But all that's ended now. Ended a while ago, really, and all he feels is genuine sorrow for Sol Laine. Who lost his only, his golden son.
"Still."
It probably wouldn't have helped Sol; it's not for Sol that he feels he should have gone.
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They're still standing by the door, but Kim doesn't seem to notice or care.
It's been a long day.
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He shifts position, a little, drawing one arm out from behind her while keeping the other around her shoulders; closes the door with his free hand (there are benefits to being a big man with long arms) and starts to steer her gently the few steps towards the couch.
Fortunately the apartment's small.
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Kim sinks down on the couch and looks up at him again.
"Thanks for letting me come over."
It sounds a little rueful.
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She shakes her head, then tucks a straggling lock of hair behind one ear and finds a smile for him.
"Tea sounds good."
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He gets the water boiling and opens up a cupboard. "Black or . . . uh . . . okay, never mind. Hope black's okay?"
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Her smile's a little brighter now.
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"Been a while since I had guests," he explains, looking rather embarrassed.
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"Doesn't it bother you that way, though? Without-- I mean, if it's quiet all the time?"
Even as she says it, she thinks of her own apartment, which feels so much larger and more hollow without Jennifer-- and then of Sol Laine's house, so empty and near-echoing, and of how shrunken and old he'd looked.
Kim's smile fades, and she looks down at her hands, ringless now, with the Baelrath long gone.
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"Yeah," he says, finally. He brings her one of the cups and then goes back for his own. Thinking about brothers-in-arms - brothers in general.
"Guess it does, a little. More now."
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