and when I die I expect to find him laughing

[neveraffordme]

She's been on edge, more than ususal, ever since the radio announcement yesterday; someone on this island is killing women and there's nothing Alex can do about it, nothing but hang around indoors and try not to look like a target. She's already been shot once, surely that should grant her an exemption, but there's less and less these days that she

Comments

[how_itgoes]

Sam watches her for a moment and tries to reconcile her talking to think air with the fact that right then, right there, he can hear a radio talking about his vital signs, something about 'optimistic', and maybe all these murders is a way to fight back to some higher level of consciousness. He's barely aware of himself pushing into the room, standing above her with arms crossed.

"Have you joined the IPD yet?" he asks, before launching into an array of case files and facts.

[neveraffordme]

"Not yet, I'm afraid." She ought to have, she knows, but something about this place is getting at her; it's hard to focus when every day is just like the next, warm and bright and with no routine to fall back on.

Make sure she concentrates. She's easily distracted.

"Come and have a seat." She gestures to the chair nearest her. "You didn't see anyone just there, did you?"

Molly's gone, she always is, not even a whisper to say goodbye, but Alex doesn't mind that badly; she'll always be back.

[how_itgoes]

Sam turns to look over his shoulder, then to the chair and there's no one there. He's not sure if there was because there's always something out of the corner of his eye that he thinks is there and then it's gone, in a flash. "Not full-on, no," he says apologetically as he hesitantly makes his way inside and finds a place to sit and watches Alex from the place where he draws one knee up, resting his forearms about it. "What did you think of my case when you first met me?" he finds himself asking, even though there are better things to ask about.

[neveraffordme]

"I thought it was fascinating. You were fascinating. Completely unique." Not any more, of course, and won't she have a book to write now. If they allow pens on the locked ward. "You were very distant. I always felt I was missing something when I talked to you."

And she had been; he'd wanted to go back. She'd missed it, misinterpreted it, and she doesn't know if it's too late to tell him now; he still wants to go home, there might be a chance, but then what happens to her?

[15_words]

"...Yeah, don't worry about it. I can take care of myself."

Jaye stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the rec room, a mug of hot tea (and maybe something else... maybe) in one hand and a wary look on her face. It wasn't FEAR exactly. Or the 'DAMN you crazy' look someone else might have given to a lady talking to herself. This look was almost... hopeful. And sympathetic. But all that was MOSTLY hidden under a severe frown of confusion and, well, wariness.

"Don't mind me. I just wanted to sit."

[neveraffordme]

"Oh, God, sorry."

By now she's used to it, being interrupted while she's talking to Molly; slightly less to being walked in on, though, and she hurriedly draws herself to attention, smoothes her hair back, looks determinedly away from the place her daughter isn't anymore.

"Just thinking out loud. It's not an easy habit to break. Sit anywhere you like."

The poor American girl's looking at her like she might be the violent kind of mad, and Alex can't say she blames her.

[15_words]

"Uh huh," Jaye drawled, clearly not ready and willing to swallow that load of crap without something to smooth the way. She took a gulp of coffee and eyed the other woman appraisingly.

"Talk to yourself a lot? Only place you can find a decent conversation?" It was a weak joke, and Jaye didn't even try to make it funny. She wanted to know if this lady really was just talking to herself. OR if she was talking to SOMETHING and would crack easily. She wasn't planning on putting THAT much effort into this.

[neveraffordme]

"You could probably say that." She sets the book down, tucks it absent-mindedly down the side of the chair with a corner folded to mark her place. "Why?"