-Saturday Morning-

[afromp]

She hadn't really realised it until yesterday, but they're getting better. She's getting better. She still has nightmares, but they aren't as plentiful. It's harder to push her into the brainspace where she stops thinking of herself as a person and starts thinking of herself as a tool, as a machine. There are still things, there are still triggers

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[samsonydelilah]

John kind of has and kind of hasn't been talking about it. It didn't strike him as weird until hours later; a year ago the mere mention of children was an anathema, but now it was an actual viable possibility apparently.

Trying to figure out when that happened meant his shower took a little longer, but by the time he got out he had come to a few conclusions: they weren't crazy, for one thing, and whatever they had been, it wasn't genetic. It was a result of their situation, of the hell they lived through.

The fact that nothing God-awful happened on her birthday, save a week or so of staying mostly indoors, was a testament to that fact.

John's expression is still thoughtful by the time he puts on clothes and finds Allison in the kitchen. "Hey."

[afromp]

She's glad that they aren't crazy, that they're getting better. That things are better. She smiles at him, cutting strips of pastry and arranging them neatly on a tray. "Hey. Good morning."

[samsonydelilah]

"Morning." Smiling back and sitting down, making sure to not be in the way. He's not sure what she's making other than the fact that it'll probably be really good. "So...I was thinking. About yesterday. The stuff we talked about."

[afromp]

Either good for them or good for them to give to Mrs Hill. One or the other. She finishes cutting pastry, and sits down at the counter. Spreading some of the pastry in a baking tray. "You were? What were you thinking?"