mending bridges and breaking ground

[withoutincident]

Man, things suck for everybody right now, don't they.

Comments

[nowait_letme]

He's been doing the rounds; after Pyth and Adiva, Nita is the next obvious stop.

So he charms a room number and a picnic basket out of Bar (She's been working her ass off and she could use a little pick-me-up, don't you think?) and wanders down the hall past the stairs, humming cheerfully under his breath.

[nita_callahan]

Nita's door is marked with her name in neat copperplate over a little wreath (rowan twigs and leaves, studded with tiny red flowers that definitely didn't grow on a planet with Earth's level of gravity).

[nowait_letme]

...Cute.

He knocks-- or, well, drums his knuckles against the middle of the door.

[nita_callahan]

"Minute," comes the response.

A moment later, the door opens.

"Ye--"

Blink.

"Hi?"

[nowait_letme]

Grin.

"Hi. I brought snacks; can I come in?"

[nita_callahan]

". . . Are you -- do you need something, or is this a social call?" she asks, bemused.

[nowait_letme]

"No, I don't need anything."

Now it's a smirk.

"Come on, I'm not made entirely of ulterior motives, promise. And I think there's cookies in here."

He rattles the basket hopefully, producing some convincingly cookie-like noises.

[nita_callahan]

She blinks again, and snickers.

"Lord. You should meet Raven sometime. Yeah, come on in."

She steps back to admit him and heads towards the couch and armchair to clear off some books and papers. "Sorry about the mess."

It's essentially a good-sized studio apartment: twin bed tucked into one corner, desk and dresser next to it; couch, armchair, and coffee table in the living area; kitchenette in the opposite corner, by the door to the bathroom.

Every available bit of wall has been dedicated to bookshelves. The books themselves, though, in the way books have, have tended to gather on the table or desk or floor.

At least all her clothes are put away?

[nowait_letme]

...Chainsaw snickers, too.

Then he puts the picnic basket down on the newly-revealed arm of a chair.

Then, looking around at the shelves, he snickers again.

[nita_callahan]

"I used to be a librarian," she defends, dumping the books on the bed.

[nowait_letme]

"Not really what's funny here."

He flips open the lid of the basket.

"Oh, look. I was right. Cookies."

Om nom fruit creme.

[nita_callahan]

"Whatever," amused.

She wanders over to settle onto the couch and selects a sugar cookie.

"Seriously, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

[nowait_letme]

"You looked like shit the last time I saw you, and I wanted to make sure you're doing okay?"

Is there space beside her on the couch? 'Cause if there's not, he's making some, and taking the picnic basket along with.

[nita_callahan]

"I'm fine," she says automatically. (It's vague enough that it's not a lie.)

There is; she scoots sideways slightly to make a little more and maintain a few inches of space between them.

"How's . . ."

She glances down at her hands. "How are Bruce and Will handling things?"

[nowait_letme]

"Poorly."

He settles the basket on his lap, reaches in, and retrieves a chocolate chip cookie.

"But better than they could be. Will's... Will, and Bruce is, mm, Bruce is pretty adaptable."

[nita_callahan]

Wry: "I don't know what 'Will's Will' means."