Palpitations

[roatelgari]

Location: Jensen's Office
Time: Wee hours of Day 7, Month 2, Turn 2
Players: Jensen and Roa
Scene: Heartaches abound.

Jensen's Office

It's a simple chamber, this room, wider than it is long, and serves as personal quarters/office for the captain. The door is almost always open to anyone who may need to see him. Light is provided by a number of glow-baskets fixed to the otherwise bare walls. A bed, little more than a cot, made up with heavy quilts, is up against one wall, pushed into the corner so it'll be out of the way. It's big enough for two if they don't mind being very close. A small chest for clothes and likely any weapons he might have in his possession rests at the foot. A desk and chair sit opposite it, the former cluttered with hides and parchment scattered across its surface. Some clothes, clean and dirty, litter the floor. His leather breastplate and wristguard and things rest next to the bed when not in use.

It's late, way past the general bedtime. People should be sleeping, not, well, curled up on their bedroom floor with their arms wrapped around their middle, groaning and trying to be quiet about it. Jensen's never been one to follow the norm though, has he? So there he is, in exactly that position, whimpering from time to time with his eyes closed and his expression one of pain. His door is open a crack.

Roa walks down the hallway, satchel on her shoulders, muttering softly to herself. "Jensen, I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she murmurs. Then, with a shake of her head, "Captain, I only came to express my heartfelt apologies. I think perhaps we shouldn't..." her nose wrinkles, "Shells no. Jen? M'sorry. Ugh." Her eyes close and open again, and now she's before that door. A deep breath and in she steps to see

...oh. Oh no. No no no. She heard the strangeness in his chest but she hadn't said anything. And what had Morley rambled on about stitches in the side and stomach upsets? Stupid girl. But these thoughts snap through her mind in an instant so that once she is through the door, bag is flung to the ground and she's racing over to the coiled Jensen, kneeling down by his head. "Lie flat on your back, Jen. Head in my lap. Don't ask, just do it, all right?" Her voice is calm and low. Healing experience serves her well.

Jensen would make an excellent target for anyone with harmful intentions. In such a prone position, with his mind centered completely on the pain happening over and over, he's nearly oblivious to everything else. Roa's presence even goes unnoticed, so trapped is he. Until that is she's talking to him. His eyes open, eyebrows lift as he tries to focus on the goldrider's face. "Nnh." And of course, instead of listening and alleviating the pain, he simply shakes his head and begins moving, using one arm to lift himself up. Another groan, a strangled sound, and he's back on the floor. Okay, so maybe rolling over is a good idea. He'll do that. One hand lifts, reaches, bumps into Roa's arm, then drops to cover his eyes. Why did it have to be her to see him like this? His other hand? Very definitely curled and pressed in against his too-fast heartbeat.

Roa settles on her knees, hands resting lightly on either side of his face, thumbs in his hair, fingers splayed out on his cheeks. "Good," Jen's struggle to pay her utterly no mind utterly ignored. "Your lungs are lying to you right now, Jen. You're not going to listen to them. You're going to listen to me. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Like when you're training, yeh? Small, breaths. Shallow to start. Ready?" She waits a beat and then just begins. "In." Beat. "Out." Beat. "In." Beat. "Out."

Jensen makes another noise, apparently unable to speak just now. Too bad too, he likely has some darn good smart-assy things to say. His head moves about a little, shaking back and forth slowly against her hands, but eventually he stills and swallows. Another groan happens. Both hands are over his face now, leaving just enough room for him to do as he's told. In through his nose, out through his mouth. They're shaky breaths to be sure, but they begin to steady slowly as Roa guides him.

The shaking of his head only gets fingers that tighten around it, stilling the motions as much as Roa is able. As Jensen starts to breath she nods. "Okay. Good. Just a little bit deeper now. In and out. In....and out..."

Jensen does as he's told, because it's helping and because it's better than being curled up and riding the whole thing out. In. Out. In. Out. His chest rises and falls, rises and falls.

It goes like that for a little while, the speed of the breathing slowing as Jensen seems more and more able to breathe deeply. The end result, if all goes well, will be Jensen slowly inhaling deeply through his nose, exhaling slowly through his mouth in something similar to a meditative breathing pattern. And the whole time, Roa guides him softly, instructing when to inhale, when to breathe out.

That is what happens, in fact, though it takes several moments. Finally he lets out one more breath through his mouth and curls his hands. Pressing them into his eyes, he groans again, though this time in a much more controlled manner. Silence. Then, "Never thought I'd be happy t'feel a nice dull, throbby feelin' in the pit of me."

Oh good. He's talking. And not just talking, but sassing. He must be all right now, so how come Roa's hands are still pressed, light and firm against his face? "What happened?" she asks, peering down at him, "What brought on the attack? Can you stand? We need to get you to a healer. Now, I think."

Yes. A sassing Jensen is a healthy Jensen. Those hands? He doesn't mind them, or maybe he doesn't notice them. "Mm." To answer that second question he sort of forces himself upward, sits for a moment to get over the wincing that happens, and then follows through the rest of the way, using a hand to push himself to his feet. He sort of staggers a little, leans on his desk and heaves a sigh. His palm? Flat against his chest. "Already been t'the healers," he mutters, definitely /not/ looking at Roa.

"You..." already been? Already been. Her eyes dart down to the ground, looking this way and that until finally, slowly, she looks up. "What brought that attack on, Jensen?" Again the voice is calm. Soft. Deceptively serene. She remains, for the moment, kneeling on the floor.

"Fate and ill conceived timin'," is Jen's dry response. He flicks a look in her direction, coughs into his other hand, and reaches for the 'skin on his desk.

Roa pushes herself up, taking a moment to smooth her skirt before turning to watch Jensen quietly. "What did this person say, this healer you went to see?"

Jensen takes a long drink from that 'skin and, when some dribbles from the corner of his mouth, it's clear it’s water. He swipes a hand over to wipe it away and tries another deep breath. This time he doesn't wince. "Lots o'things. Like, take this powder and come back and see me. Real cheery visit."

Roa ahs softly. "And, um, are you? Taking this powder and going to visits?" A pause as she wets her lips. "Any mention of what, specifically brings this on or any new restrictions you might need to be aware of?"

Jensen lifts his eyebrows, his eyes wandering. Do /not/ look at her and you'll be able to at least keep most of the truth to yourself. Good plan. "I, uh. I take the powder. Tea, y'know. Sorta hate tea, myself, but..." Uhoh. He looked. "Think 'e mighta said somethin' about, uh, physical... exertion..." My, but his voice does get smaller.

"So...then..." and here, Roa's right hand lifts up to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes closing. "Might I presume that this tea you rather dislike has not, in fact, been drunk today? And that these restrictions on physical exertions have not, in fact, kept you from daily and rigorous training with the men even when you bow out early with 'side cramps'?" Oh so placid. So calm. A lake, with some large creature sporting pointy teeth lurking just below the surface.

"No," Jen says, his tone borderling forceful. With just a hint of whine, perhaps. Then, eyes lowering to the floor, he mutters, "I drank the tea." Oh, Jensen. "It ain't what it looks like. Or sounds like." Unless of course it looks and/or sounds like he wasn't completely obeying healer's orders. "Why're you here anyway?" Though he doesn't say it in an accusatory tone, it is obvious he's trying to divert attention to something else.

"I'm here to keep you from folding up into a little ball of anguish," is Roa's cool reply. Fate and ill conceived timin' indeed. "If it's not what it looks like, what was it? What happened? For Faranth's sake, *why* were you on the floor?" And then she skulks towards the door. To leave? Oh but Jensen won't be so lucky. It's to kick the door all the way shut with her foot. And oh yeah, hey, no crutches.

Jensen's shoulders hunch some. Bother. "Anguish? Weren't nothin' anguished 'bout that, just there. I was just-" What, Jen, hanging out? "'Cause. I was just... I was..." He glances up, over his shoulder, at his door. No, not at his door. Above it. Hey look, a rope. And then Roa's moving past him towards that same door and he blinks. "Hey, you're not usin' crutches." Well that was almost childlike. The sound of door sort of echoes in the otherwise silent tunnel and room. "Uh. Why're you closin' my door?"

No answer is forthcoming, although the Telgari does follow that gaze over and up to a...rope. And then back to Jensen. Rope. Jensen. Rope. A slow turn. Jensen. And she begins to walk forward, stopping only when she's nearly toe to toe with the captain. Her arms cross in front of her chest and despite the phenomenal difference in their height and the way this closeness makes her cran her head up, Roa still manages to look imperious. How do goldriders *do* that? Her words? So so clear and so so soft. "You are going to relieve those final two guards of their duties in protecting me. You're going to do it right. now."

Lips parted and one forefinger lifted, Jen looks the part of a man who's about to tell a woman what's what. Fortunately for him he never gets to make that mistake because Roa is suddenly /there/ and he has to lean slightly and wince because she's probably going to slap him. When she doesn't he stares at her, realization dawning. /Oh/. "Now, Roa, this ain't a reason t'go makin' rash decisions."

"*Now* Jensen. You've just forfeited any right you ever had to look after me in any way ever again." Lots of final phrasing in that little sentence. Slap? No, those hands remain quite squarely crossed. There is a bit of pinkness creeping up along her throat however, and it's no timid demure Roa-blush. Not this time.

Jensen's eyebrows furrow. His arms fold across his chest and he stares down at her. Feet spaced somewhat apart, he's taken on the stance of someone too bull-headed to back down from something even if a tiny part of him is saying 'she's right, you know.' "Ain't forfeited any kinda rights. So long as I take that damn powder and drink that damn tea and go t'the damn healer I'm followin' all the rules." His voice lowers. "I'm still Captain. I won't be blamed for you comin' t'harm." In other words? I need to keep you safe and not just because.

"You're not following all the rules. You're picking and choosing, taking what you want and ignoring the rest." He does that with a lot of things actually. "You are going to call them off," Roa persists, "Or so help me I am going to withdraw from Caucus and return to Telgar where Tialith will rise just in time for that slime of a Weyrleader I have's dragon to catch and for him to flip up my skirts and bed me whether I wish it or no. After which I'm probably going to sink into a quiet life of isolation and depression." And the last words remain unspoken, but likely hang in the air anyhow. 'And it will be All Your Fault.'

Jensen shifts his weight a little, from one foot to the other. There's something in those now-grey eyes of his, something... dark. Is this a challenge? His voice is very soft. "That an ultimatum, little Roa?"

Roa's chin lifts a little higher, eyes bright. "You better believe it." Bring it on.

Jensen's jaw clenches, his chin jutting. There's so much happening behind those eyes and only so much of it shows. A long moment passes. And then, in a blink, "Fine." His lips purse, and he adds, "Consider it done." And there it is. Something momentous has just happened between them, some leveling of the ground they stand on, though for not it remains unreadable.*

Roa blinks slowly, brows lifting. For some reason, she did not at all expect him to actually, well, actually agree. "Thank you," is her reply in a voice that sounds much more like herself. And then, well, she's just sort of standing there, ramrod stiff and silent.

Jensen probably didn't expect him to actually agree either. But, well, there they are. After another moment of simply staring at her as if she's grown another head he gives a very tense nod and turns. And something in the stillness shatters. He walks over to his desk, lifts his 'skin, and mutters, "I'll tell the men in the mornin'," before taking a drink.

"Right. Yes. Do that, please." Bit by bit, Roa starts to settle back into that quiet, gentle slip of a thing as she tries to decide if she's actually come out the victor or if she's just lost something very very important. Finally a slow sigh, a very slow closing and opening of her eyes. "Don't curl up and don't gasp," she says rather flatly. "Keep straight as much as you can and start with small breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Deepen them as you’re able." Because he's going to do this again and she's not going to be there.

"I will." Yes, Jensen must have the last word. Because he's a man and he's just been told off by a small girl creature and there has to be /something/ he can do about it, to gain some control of the situation back. Let's not even go into what she walked in on. He'd been staring at his desk, waterskin in hand. Now he looks at her, his eyebrow lifted. A slow nod is all he can offer in exchange for her advice. Then, "Sorry you had t'see it. Wasn't planned anyone would. But," he pauses, raps his knuckles on that desk, and sighs, "Rather it be you than anyone."

"I'm glad it was me too," the Telgari murmurs. "Listen, you might want to hold off on doing that sort of thing for a little while." Her hand comes up before the protestations can start. "You're going to need all the energy reserves you have in the next few days, I think." And why is that? Does she say? Of course not.

Jensen lifts his chin, brow furrowed, and asks, "And why's that?" He says nothing as to whether or not he will or won't be trying that sort of thing. Knowing him? He'll probably be back on his floor tomorrow morning.

"Things are going to get hairy. Save your strength for the real thing." And again, Roa quiets, but now her eyes meet the guard's and there's something quiet and determined there. That's all you get.

Jensen rolls his eyes downward and his jaw clenches again. The waterskin thumps when he sets it down. "Don't much care for ominous premonitions'n warnings o'what's t'come that don't do me any good." Turned towards her now, he asks, "What's comin'?"

Roa only watches Jensen, his waterskin, his clenched jaw. His heart. And then back up to his face. "Yevide." And that's all, because now she's turned away and walking over to her satchel and to the door.

"Yevide." Jensen tilts his head back, staring up at ceiling as he thinks. "Goldrider, right? Yeah. Igen." He's looking at Roa again. "Why do I get the feelin' this is gonna have somethin' t'do with dragons sexin'."

Satchel on her shoulder, hand on the doorknob. Unless Jensen is coming after her, Roa is quite decidedly leaving.

That's not quite the response he was going for. That is to say, her trying to escape. "Hey. Hey hey hey." Unless Jensen is coming after her indeed. Taking a few steps and reaching out to press his hand against the door and thus keep her from opening it, he has every intention of making the her leaving part of the evening not happen.

Roa stops, as her way out is effectively barred by large hand on door. She turns, looks up at him, brows lifted and arms crossed. She doesn't actually say anything but the question is writ clearly on her face. 'Yes?'

Of course, the plan past stopping her from leaving becomes very limited, as in doesn't exist. Jen can only stare down at that face. his mouth open just a little. Uh. "That thing you said about that fella bein' up your skirts like that, ain't true is it?"

Blink. What? Oh. "You said you'd call off the guards," Roa says lightly. "I won't withdraw from Caucus." Course, she could always just get recalled and in three turns she's supposed to head home anyhow, but hey, let's not mention that.

"I /know/ that, but..." But what? Jensen removes his hand from the door, lifts it to scratch at his head and further tousle his hair. "'M not stupid, Roa. I know what they say 'bout girls without that kinda, uh... experience'n what happens to 'em when-" He stops himself. In a lower voice he continues, though along a slightly different vein. "I know we... Well, 'm just sayin', uh."

There is more blinking from Roa's end. Oh yes. "Jensen," she begins, soft and gentle, "what *are* you saying?"

"I want you t'be okay," Jen blurts, and rather exasperatedly at that. His impatience with himself is obvious. "When it happens. I do."

A corner of the goldrider's lips curl upwards into a little half smile. "I will be," she says, with perhaps a confidence she doesn't entirely feel. "It's just part and parcel with being a rider."

"I know it. I know. Still." And Jensen scuffs his foot on the ground a little, his brow furrowed. "I'm, uh... Glad it didn't have t'be that way. First time." Yes, that's his very not right way of saying I'm glad your first time having the sex didn't happen during a flight.

"Yeh," she says softly. "Me too." And now it's Roa's turn to look down and away. At something else. Anything else. "I'm glad it was you."

Jensen is looking at the floor. It's a good thing to look at. "Yeah?" Er. "Uh. Yeah. Well. Guess I was in the right place at the right time."

A small chuckle, maybe a little bitter. But maybe just flat. "Or the wrong place, all things considered." Y'know? That girl what would be furious if she ever knew?

"Nah. Only thing I regret about all o'that is maybe," Jen pauses, actually looks at her, and manages a small smile. "Maybe not tellin' you the whole truth."

That steals her attention for a moment long enough for their eyes to meet, assuming Jensen lets them. "You did," she argues. "I knew it was only...casual."

Jensen does let them, because somehow that just seems appropriate. "Right." But somehow he doesn't sound as okay as his words might lead one to believe him to be. "Casual."

And these are the moments Roa seems to excel at, aren't they. Those 'he's only giving half-truths' moments. So, up go those eyebrows again and there is that expression on her face. Curious. Waiting. Endlessly patient.

Jensen's hand is rubbing at the back of his neck as he watches that expression happen. Aw, hell. Going futher into this would only mean trouble, him having to explain feellings and thoughts that nobody should ever have to go into too much detail about verbally. So instead of trying to describe everything, he simple settles his hand on her arm and leans in to kiss the top of her head.

Roa sighs faintly and realizes, perhaps, that there are times when things simply shouldn't be said. Instead, she accepts that soft, brotherly kiss, and if her eyes drift blissfully shut for a moment, well, Jensen's at an odd angle to have noticed it.

Yes, and his mouth is still pressed to her hair anyway. After a moment Jen's eyes open and he pulls back to look down at her. "I can walk you back t'your dorm," he offers, in a voice that's lost that firm, Captainy edge.

Roa lifts her hand and lets it settle, soft and feather light, over that arhythmically beating heart. "No more protecting, remember?" the girl murmurs softly, her eyes once again lifted to meet his.

"Don't remember me not bein' able t'walk you home bein' part o'the agreement." Jensen has stepped away from her and the door, but only so he can grab his jacket and shove his bare feet into his boots. Seems he's coming whether she likes it or not.

Roa reaches for the door and then stops. It clicks. He's snooping out Yevide. She turns to face him again, and this time her voice is firm. "No."

Jensen pauses, his jacket half-on, and stares at her. In that one moment he looks sort of like a dejected canine. No? "No?"

Roa slowly shakes her head. "No." One word, so many inflections.

"Huh." Jen shrugs his jacket up on his other shoulder, tugs it until it settles. Then he stands, stares at her, and says, "'M gonna find out what I wanna know eventually, darlin'. But," and now he's walking over to the door, to her, "tonight ain't the time."

"No," Roa sighs, "it isn't. Tomorrow, I should think, at the earliest." And then it seems her protesting is finished, because she opens the door and steps out into the hallway, pausing for Jensen to join her before making her way out and into the bowl.

"Tomorrow and every day after." And that's as much an offhanded remark as it is a promise. Yes, I'm alive, and I plan to keep being so until I'm done. The door is shut on the two of them as soon as Jen steps out into the hallway with her.

*I included the stuff below, because it was just too interesting:

You paged Jensen with 'so...what was his train of thought there?'.

Jensen pages: Something like 'If I say yes to this she wins wait no it means we're equal wait no it means we're not friends anymore wait no it means she's grown-up wait no it means I don't want her getting raped by some skeezy bronzerider then wouldn't that means she isn't really grown-up and I'm just saying yes so I can keep protecting her?' And so on. :P

Long distance to Jensen: Roa cackles