(Untitled)

[le_desirous]

Sagramore is having a very bad week. He hasn't been feeling well, and then there's the case of Helen--given how much he adores her, let alone the importance of her as perhaps his one friend he wasn't sleeping with, he's not feeling very optimistic right now

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[youngandhealthy]

Molly is in a contrarily good mood, given the return of Tom, among other things. But when she sees Sagarmore, she goes to him, all concern. "Sir? Y'are not ill again?"

[le_desirous]

"--A little," he says, reaching for her.

[youngandhealthy]

She takes his hand and comes to sit by him. "Oh, sir."

[le_desirous]

"And one of my friends isn't well."

[youngandhealthy]

"Not Aimery?"

[le_desirous]

"Aimery's perfectly fine, as far as I know. It's Helen. My friend Helen."

[youngandhealthy]

"Ye've mentioned her..." She leans her head on his knee, presuming he's sitting on a chair or a bench. "Aught to be done?"

[le_desirous]

Sagramore strokes her hair morosely. "No. Nothing."

[youngandhealthy]

"Poor lady."

[le_desirous]

His fingers clench. "And there's nothing I can do about it."

[youngandhealthy]

She looks up to him, unsure what to do. "Sir... twill come right. Somehow."

[le_desirous]

"Christ willing. I don't know."

[youngandhealthy]

"Honestly." She leans up a little. "Things mostly do."

[le_desirous]

Sagramore sighs and runs his thumb across her cheek. "Baj--"

[youngandhealthy]

She leans up enough to kiss him, though it's slow, much softer than usual for her.

[le_desirous]

He sighs again and kisses back, helping her up a little.