A Visitor
The student that I went into the city with visited me today, which was both a relief and a burden. I'm glad he was able to come up and speak with me - I was afraid I'd be too much of a reminder of Saturday, or that he blamed me - but at the same time he served as my own reminder. He looks, well, horrible all bandaged up like that, and way too skinny.
I haven't had to try to put on a smile in a while. False cheer rarely serves its purpose, unfortunately.
I'll need to try to speak with Dr. Grey soon.
A soft green velour drape has been lifted, tied back from its shielding of paneled glass in an encouragement to allow more light into Eileen's personal room, though the tightly woven grey clouds overhead curtain the sun from view. For a woman instructed to stay off of her feet, Eileen appears to have fetched a number of activities to keep herself occupied. On the queen-sized bed, one textbook lies open with a legal pad scribbled with note atop of it, while atop of that is a paperback novel, and though a television remote completes the pile, the room is silent. With pillows propping herself up, her laptop upon her lap, Eileen is settled next to the pile, the gentle gold of a bedside lamp cast over her while her eyes busily scan the harsher glow of the screen before her. Idly, she chews a cookie - the plate bearing those treats and a vase of delivered flowers upon the bedside table.
Walter has escaped from bedrest, after having slept most of the morning away. He 'sneaks' to the elevator, and up onto the third floor. Having found it the bandage+sling+shirt combo to be more trouble than it's worth, he's shirtless, showing that he lost quite a bit of weight Saturday night. Knocking on the door of his fellow casualty, he softly calls, "Eileen?"
Deep brown eyes glance up from the object of their attention to land upon the door with the knock, the weary but contemplative look sharpening briefly before fading with a blink. "Yes? Come in," Eileen welcomes casually before spying the visitor. Her expression tightens - gentle wrinkles showing the beginning signs of aging growing deeper in a wince. "Hey, Walter," she greets gently while the laptop is placed aside. "Come on in. Would you like a cookie?"
Walter walks in, his left arm held across his chest by a sling, the corresponding shoulder neatly bandaged. He walks towards the bed, looking for a place to sit. "Yes, please." Amazing what a good night's sleep can do for one's manners.
That spot is promptly cleared - biology textbook and all it carries lifted and paused as Eileen searches for a new home for it before being deposited neatly onto the floor. The bed is patted welcomingly before hands are newly occupied with not just one cookie, but the entire plateful as it's offered to the teen. Gaze drops imploringly down to that bandage and sling mixture before meeting Walter's own. "How are you?" she wonders before her lips tilt wryly. "Or is that a stupid question?"
Walter sits, taking a cookie. "A little better," he responds, using the cookie as an excuse to not say anything else for the time. He looks at the outward signs of her own injury, frowning.
Eileen nods slowly with the response, 'hmm'ing softly as if she expected as much. Her gaze doesn't shift, watching as he spots her casted lower left leg. "It's not that bad," she brushes the injury flippantly aside with a wave of her hand. "Just a couple weeks in the cast, as if I broke my leg. But you," she moves on quickly, eyeing his thinness with an attempt at playful disapproval. "You should be in bed, eating all the ice cream you can."
Walter continues to frown, "I'm sorry." His eyes leave the leg, finding his own much more interesting.
The wrinkle-inducing cringe returns to Eileen's face while her own eyes drop to the plate of cookies between them. A silent but heavy sigh is breathed through her nose, releasing all false attempts at cheer. "No, Walter," she murmurs, her voice bearing dismal seriousness. "You have no need to be. I'm the one who's sorry."
Walter shakes his head, "Uh-uh. I should have ran away when things were getting bad, listened to you when you said we should go." He picks at a loose thread on his shorts. "It's my fault you got hurt."
"Oh, Walter." Though her tone is faintly patronizing, it draws a delicate smile to her lips. "Don't go blaming yourself. While it's selfless of us, placing the blame on ourselves won't do either of us any good. Being self-deprecating will place unnecessary weight on our shoulders." Her eyes lift to his face again. "It's both of our fault and it's neither of our fault." The turn of her lips fades back into neutrality. "How are you feeling? Not physically."
"Nightmares."
"Me too," Eileen admits with a series of distant nods. "But I suppose it wouldn't be normal, otherwise."
Walter nods, "Nisa stayed with me last night... it helped." He continues to play with the loose thread. "Why do people do things like that?" he asks, hoping his elder might have some insight.
"I'm glad you have someone to help you," Eileen murmurs with another distant nod. The question draws a blink from her and an intake of breath which suggests, when paired with the doubt on her face, that she doesn't know, but the woman pauses and considers. "I'm not sure we know all of what really happened. It was confusing and fast-paced, at best." She pauses, her thumb caressing the back of her hand. "But judging by the context of the debate, perhaps they intended for it to be broadcast in the news. This country... The dissent seems to be nearing anarchy, but at the same time distinctly divided. I think many people have an opinion on what's happening, gossip or not, in the government with mutant policies, and it only takes a couple of opinionated people to spark a wildfire."
"But it wasn't just human against mutant. That-/That/ was fighting /us/, even after you changed." He sighs heavily, adults make /no/ sense.
"I know," Eileen admits with a twist of her lips. "I don't understand the anger. Perhaps tensions are higher than anyone suspected." Her eyes flicker towards his. "Did you understand it?"
Walter shakes his head. "I understand being angry, but that was... I don't know /why/ I was so angry, it all seems so... weird."
Eileen tilts her head curiously to one side, her eyes narrowing with consideration. "But you felt angry and didn't know why. Well, at least it wasn't just me." Genuine relief accompanies these words and the woman shifts her back against the pillows. "That's really interesting. I'll bring that point up when I speak to Doctor Grey, when she has the time."
Walter grows introspective, quiet for a moment. "Do you think she'll be angry?" he asks, making an attempt at pulling out the loose thread.
The question draws a startled blink and a pull back of the head from Eileen. "Angry? Doctor Grey? Maybe I haven't been here long enough, but I can't really picture her /angry/. But, no, rest assured, I don't believe she has any cause to get irritated. Concerned about us and what this means for students traveling in the city, yes, but nothing severe directed at us. Don't worry." The plate of cookies gets an inviting little nudge.
Walter takes a cookie, bringing it most of the way to his lips, where it pauses. "You sure?" he asks, looking at the shapeshifter.
Eileen smiles gently, faintly amused. "If she does get irritated, you have all the right in the world to blame it on me."
Walter nods, "Alright." He eats the cookie. "Do you have the week off too?"
Cinnamon tinted eyebrows arch and Eileen's eyes look down to the offending leg. "Well, doctor's orders that I stay off of it for a few days, and I've been reassured that Doctor McCoy would cover my classes for two weeks, but I'd like to be back in the classroom by the beginning of next week at the latest. It keeps my mind active, on more pleasant things, you know?"
Walter nods, "I... should get back to bed. I'm glad you're alright, Eileen." He stands, walking somewhat whobbly back towards the door. Codeine is... less than fun.
Eileen lifts her eyes with the shift of weight on the mattress and grants a half-hearted smile. "I'll be alright once you are, Walter." Her fingers tighten over her hand. "Get to bed and eat all the ice cream I shouldn't. Thank you for coming up here, Walter."
Walter waves goodbye, saying, "You're welcome," as he steps out the door and into the hall. Food will not be an issue, between Madame Varga and Nisa, Walter's eating roughly 6 meals a day.
I haven't had to try to put on a smile in a while. False cheer rarely serves its purpose, unfortunately.
I'll need to try to speak with Dr. Grey soon.
A soft green velour drape has been lifted, tied back from its shielding of paneled glass in an encouragement to allow more light into Eileen's personal room, though the tightly woven grey clouds overhead curtain the sun from view. For a woman instructed to stay off of her feet, Eileen appears to have fetched a number of activities to keep herself occupied. On the queen-sized bed, one textbook lies open with a legal pad scribbled with note atop of it, while atop of that is a paperback novel, and though a television remote completes the pile, the room is silent. With pillows propping herself up, her laptop upon her lap, Eileen is settled next to the pile, the gentle gold of a bedside lamp cast over her while her eyes busily scan the harsher glow of the screen before her. Idly, she chews a cookie - the plate bearing those treats and a vase of delivered flowers upon the bedside table.
Walter has escaped from bedrest, after having slept most of the morning away. He 'sneaks' to the elevator, and up onto the third floor. Having found it the bandage+sling+shirt combo to be more trouble than it's worth, he's shirtless, showing that he lost quite a bit of weight Saturday night. Knocking on the door of his fellow casualty, he softly calls, "Eileen?"
Deep brown eyes glance up from the object of their attention to land upon the door with the knock, the weary but contemplative look sharpening briefly before fading with a blink. "Yes? Come in," Eileen welcomes casually before spying the visitor. Her expression tightens - gentle wrinkles showing the beginning signs of aging growing deeper in a wince. "Hey, Walter," she greets gently while the laptop is placed aside. "Come on in. Would you like a cookie?"
Walter walks in, his left arm held across his chest by a sling, the corresponding shoulder neatly bandaged. He walks towards the bed, looking for a place to sit. "Yes, please." Amazing what a good night's sleep can do for one's manners.
That spot is promptly cleared - biology textbook and all it carries lifted and paused as Eileen searches for a new home for it before being deposited neatly onto the floor. The bed is patted welcomingly before hands are newly occupied with not just one cookie, but the entire plateful as it's offered to the teen. Gaze drops imploringly down to that bandage and sling mixture before meeting Walter's own. "How are you?" she wonders before her lips tilt wryly. "Or is that a stupid question?"
Walter sits, taking a cookie. "A little better," he responds, using the cookie as an excuse to not say anything else for the time. He looks at the outward signs of her own injury, frowning.
Eileen nods slowly with the response, 'hmm'ing softly as if she expected as much. Her gaze doesn't shift, watching as he spots her casted lower left leg. "It's not that bad," she brushes the injury flippantly aside with a wave of her hand. "Just a couple weeks in the cast, as if I broke my leg. But you," she moves on quickly, eyeing his thinness with an attempt at playful disapproval. "You should be in bed, eating all the ice cream you can."
Walter continues to frown, "I'm sorry." His eyes leave the leg, finding his own much more interesting.
The wrinkle-inducing cringe returns to Eileen's face while her own eyes drop to the plate of cookies between them. A silent but heavy sigh is breathed through her nose, releasing all false attempts at cheer. "No, Walter," she murmurs, her voice bearing dismal seriousness. "You have no need to be. I'm the one who's sorry."
Walter shakes his head, "Uh-uh. I should have ran away when things were getting bad, listened to you when you said we should go." He picks at a loose thread on his shorts. "It's my fault you got hurt."
"Oh, Walter." Though her tone is faintly patronizing, it draws a delicate smile to her lips. "Don't go blaming yourself. While it's selfless of us, placing the blame on ourselves won't do either of us any good. Being self-deprecating will place unnecessary weight on our shoulders." Her eyes lift to his face again. "It's both of our fault and it's neither of our fault." The turn of her lips fades back into neutrality. "How are you feeling? Not physically."
"Nightmares."
"Me too," Eileen admits with a series of distant nods. "But I suppose it wouldn't be normal, otherwise."
Walter nods, "Nisa stayed with me last night... it helped." He continues to play with the loose thread. "Why do people do things like that?" he asks, hoping his elder might have some insight.
"I'm glad you have someone to help you," Eileen murmurs with another distant nod. The question draws a blink from her and an intake of breath which suggests, when paired with the doubt on her face, that she doesn't know, but the woman pauses and considers. "I'm not sure we know all of what really happened. It was confusing and fast-paced, at best." She pauses, her thumb caressing the back of her hand. "But judging by the context of the debate, perhaps they intended for it to be broadcast in the news. This country... The dissent seems to be nearing anarchy, but at the same time distinctly divided. I think many people have an opinion on what's happening, gossip or not, in the government with mutant policies, and it only takes a couple of opinionated people to spark a wildfire."
"But it wasn't just human against mutant. That-/That/ was fighting /us/, even after you changed." He sighs heavily, adults make /no/ sense.
"I know," Eileen admits with a twist of her lips. "I don't understand the anger. Perhaps tensions are higher than anyone suspected." Her eyes flicker towards his. "Did you understand it?"
Walter shakes his head. "I understand being angry, but that was... I don't know /why/ I was so angry, it all seems so... weird."
Eileen tilts her head curiously to one side, her eyes narrowing with consideration. "But you felt angry and didn't know why. Well, at least it wasn't just me." Genuine relief accompanies these words and the woman shifts her back against the pillows. "That's really interesting. I'll bring that point up when I speak to Doctor Grey, when she has the time."
Walter grows introspective, quiet for a moment. "Do you think she'll be angry?" he asks, making an attempt at pulling out the loose thread.
The question draws a startled blink and a pull back of the head from Eileen. "Angry? Doctor Grey? Maybe I haven't been here long enough, but I can't really picture her /angry/. But, no, rest assured, I don't believe she has any cause to get irritated. Concerned about us and what this means for students traveling in the city, yes, but nothing severe directed at us. Don't worry." The plate of cookies gets an inviting little nudge.
Walter takes a cookie, bringing it most of the way to his lips, where it pauses. "You sure?" he asks, looking at the shapeshifter.
Eileen smiles gently, faintly amused. "If she does get irritated, you have all the right in the world to blame it on me."
Walter nods, "Alright." He eats the cookie. "Do you have the week off too?"
Cinnamon tinted eyebrows arch and Eileen's eyes look down to the offending leg. "Well, doctor's orders that I stay off of it for a few days, and I've been reassured that Doctor McCoy would cover my classes for two weeks, but I'd like to be back in the classroom by the beginning of next week at the latest. It keeps my mind active, on more pleasant things, you know?"
Walter nods, "I... should get back to bed. I'm glad you're alright, Eileen." He stands, walking somewhat whobbly back towards the door. Codeine is... less than fun.
Eileen lifts her eyes with the shift of weight on the mattress and grants a half-hearted smile. "I'll be alright once you are, Walter." Her fingers tighten over her hand. "Get to bed and eat all the ice cream I shouldn't. Thank you for coming up here, Walter."
Walter waves goodbye, saying, "You're welcome," as he steps out the door and into the hall. Food will not be an issue, between Madame Varga and Nisa, Walter's eating roughly 6 meals a day.