[OOM:
Sallie Abigail Reynolds.Sallie enters Milliways with a plain satchel over one shoulder and a freshly-made pie in her opposite hand. The pie needs to get dropped off first, so Sallie climbs a barstool, dropping the satchel to the floor and letting Bar whisk the pie off to the ether where everything stays when she has to hold something, and
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But he chooses two quiet words, against the maelstrom beside him. "Good morning, Sallie." He deliberated over the name, but the formal would perhaps be too unhelpful a reminder of things she's already not in need of remembering.
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Still, eventually sitting up, Sallie can smile at Edward pretty sincerely.
"Mornin'."
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Pointing to the cup.
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But she's there, regardless of how it makes her worry. Bracelets on her arm jingle as she reaches out to touch Sallie's arm. "Are you okay?"
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(It's too soon to be seeing her daughter!)
The grunt sounds something like 'Long night'.
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Into her arm on the bartop: "Made you a pie."
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It's dry and forced, but it feels better than thinking about what's waiting back home.
At least she sits up with this, lightly brushing her hair out of her face. "Wèi."
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Clearly he's been on the wrong end of a fight.
Dropping the book under his arm on the Bar with a thump and laying the other, free hand on the counter, he starts, "Bar, could I have a--"
Pop.
"...I was going to say 'cup,'" he says with a little aggravation as he prods the steaming pot of tea. Promptly a cup materializes next to it, making him scowl. "Very funny."
(Nowhere in Tavi's demeanor does it show that a scan of the Bar on first entering had made him note the woman's defeated posture. It doesn't show that he'd fully intended to get a little extra.)
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Quiet, but not really able to resist the commentary.
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When a cold compress for his eye appears a moment later, though, he has the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "...Always been nice to me, though," is the rueful addition. "I keep trying to think of better ways to thank her than taking a shift every so often."
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"...I know you, then. Somehow. From the shifts."
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There's another hand, gently (and slightly hesitantly) covering hers as John sits down beside her.
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Hard not to smile at the hand on top of hers though.
"Hi John."
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He smiles back, though not before frowning a little when her answer to his question is no.
"Wanna talk about it?"
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She's choosing to camp out on the bartop still.
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