[log] sweetheart i think you should let me hold your grudge for you

[rhyfelgri]

Today was a day; Enfys has a home to go to these days (can just see you being right at home on some other planet), but old habits die hard and she inhales her anger on Fred's doorstep, leaning on the doorbell until she gets bored of that and starts knocking. "Mummy, let me in," she says, raising her voice to carry through the wood, "your neighbours

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[photounreal]

He opens the door quick enough, cigarette in one hand, glasses on. "What in the actual fuck. Get inside." Seriously, like he needs a heart attack at his age.

[rhyfelgri]

"It's not mine," she promises instantly, darting in through the open door and for once making a passable effort at not making a worse mess once she's inside.

[photounreal]

"Bathroom," he says, pointing up the stairs like one would a tiny child who's come in covered in mud.

[rhyfelgri]

Enfys responds well to being treated like a tiny child, by which we mean she immediately plays up, shunting her frustrations to one side in favour of playing poor-put-upon-baby. "Can I borrow a shirt? I'm going to have to fucking burn this." ...she's already halfway up the stairs.

[photounreal]

"Yes, yes... just go clean up..." he's already walking past her to go get something for her to wear out of his own bedroom. He's not asking what happened just yet because he's steeling himself for the answer.

[rhyfelgri]

"Going! Gone, actually-" and the bathroom door shuts behind her. Shortly after, the shower starts running.

[photounreal]

Fred takes a minute to just stare at the mirror over his desk, wondering if he's really this old and it's really still happening.

... Yep.

He leaves the shirt and pajama pants on the doorknob of the bathroom and goes to put tea on in the kitchen.

[rhyfelgri]

Not until about an hour later does Enfys come back down the stairs, barefoot and swimming in his pajama pants (drawstrings are a gift from god when it comes to stealing other people's clothing, she's discovered). Her hair is damp and her eyes are a little redder than they were when she went up, but she's clean and plainly not injured.

[photounreal]

There's tea, and probably a sandwich, and he greets her by reaching out to tilt her chin up, quietly inspecting. (Which is an unintentional but somewhat hilarious pun.)

"All right, then?"

[rhyfelgri]

Submitting graciously to this inspection (she might've been crying, but she's steady now), Enfys picks at her sandwich. "Just needed a shower. ...God, I'm dumb. I have a shower."

Priorities.

[photounreal]

"Mmm. Come on, sit down, and tell me what went on." Do you need a hug, Enfys?

[rhyfelgri]

So much so that if he's not careful he's going to end up with half a lapful of Welshwoman, actually. "Fuck, I don't really even know. I didn't understand a fucking thing Sagramore was saying - I don't speak fucking Hungarian-"

[photounreal]

Hugs it is, then, and they can sit down over here, his arm around her shoulders. Something in him twitches like irritation; he doesn't really like Sagramore, because he worries Enfys and can't handle his drinking. "Well, what did it look like was happening."

[rhyfelgri]

"Looked like he was dying. Drunkenly." This will, presumably, endear Sagramore to Fred all the more. "I don't know how. He was just - there was a lot of blood. In his chest. He would've died, Christ knows I'm not any use, fucking nexus full of fucking healing ... fucking ... things. Stupid man. Stupid fucking man."

[photounreal]

"If you dragged his dying arse around and he didn't even explain why, I think he owes you far more than that by now," he says.

[rhyfelgri]

"I didn't do much, just stayed and let him hang onto me while he got fixed up." And bolted like a scared rabbit the second she felt she could justify it to herself, yes, also that. She rests her head against Fred's shoulder, tucking her feet in. "It wasn't like I could just - drop him on the floor."

This is in a tone that suggests she considered it, though.