(Untitled)

[giftedthom]

*The back door opens, and Thom drifts in. He looks terrible: wet through with snow, wearing last week's thin black clothes. He goes on bare feet to a table, sits down, and rests his chin in his hands; closes his eyes.

After a few minutes, he shivers, opens them, and orders Atlantean.*

Comments

[eldorne_girl]

Thom?

[eldorne_girl]

Oh, of course Thom.

You are making perfect sense.

[giftedthom]

I. Always. Make. Perfect. Sense.

[eldorne_girl]

Of course you do, dearest.

[giftedthom]

*lightly, as if he didn't care at all, Thom says* Good.

*and has another drink.*

[eldorne_girl]

[she curls her fingers around his wrist.]

What's wrong?

[giftedthom]

She --

*He pulls his wrist away, suddenly*

Had them.

[eldorne_girl]

She -

Oh.

[giftedthom]

*Thom starts to giggle.* Oh.

[eldorne_girl]

[she watches him for a moment]

Thom...

[giftedthom]

*Like a well-bred girl, he covers his mouth with his hands, still laughing, so that his narrow shoulders shake; he does not answer.*

[eldorne_girl]

[Delia says nothing. She just reaches out and puts her hand on his back, not quite her arm around his shoulders but close]

[giftedthom]

*And Thom, instantly, as if he had been waiting for this, collapses against her. He slides his own arms around Delia and holds tight. His face in her hair. He says again, softly*

Oh --

*and stops laughing.*

[eldorne_girl]

[she turns in her seat, arms going around him]

Hey, Thom. I'm here.

[she says softly, and just holds him.]