He shifts under her touch, something of a quiet groan slipping past his lips (part pleased, part exasperated - she's everywhere), and entertains the notion that he might be dreaming, but that thought quickly fades. He's not asleep.
When he opens his eyes, he finds that he doesn't know what to say to her.
Or maybe he doesn't have anything to say to her,. What can he say? Thank you for helping me find religion. For helping me find God. For pointing out the error of my ways. No.
She grins - big, sincere, for the expression on his face that was often so full of confusion and exasperation has become much more mildly so. Replaced by serenity, peace, a sense of resolve about something.
Gaius, who is only half-asleep, mutters something unintelligible in response to the question. It isn't any of this young man's business, really, but the good doctor is just inebriated enough that he might Talk About It.
"... Okay," Matt replies, with an ease that does not betray at all that he's wondering how close this guy is to passing out, slipping off his stool, and getting a horrible concussion.
Still, maybe he can just quietly sidle away and someone else will handle it.
"Damn my altruistic eyes," he mutters, and nudges the guy's shoulder gently. Voice pitched softer, "Hey-- uh-- wake up? Or if you're going to pass out do it on a couch or something, you'll thank yourself in the morning."
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But not for lack of trying.
A hand finds him first, slow and sensual against the place between his shoulderblades; a voice next, low and whispered in his ear.
"Gaius. Wake up, Gaius."
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When he opens his eyes, he finds that he doesn't know what to say to her.
Or maybe he doesn't have anything to say to her,. What can he say? Thank you for helping me find religion. For helping me find God. For pointing out the error of my ways. No.
He doesn't move.
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It's fascinating.
"You're not dreaming," she says.
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"Are you actually here again, or have I gone back to normal?"
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It's ... probably none of his business. But it never hurts to be a Minimally Decent Samaritan.
"Hey-- you okay?"
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Gaius, who is only half-asleep, mutters something unintelligible in response to the question. It isn't any of this young man's business, really, but the good doctor is just inebriated enough that he might Talk About It.
Well.
If he can form words that make sense, that is.
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Still, maybe he can just quietly sidle away and someone else will handle it.
"Damn my altruistic eyes," he mutters, and nudges the guy's shoulder gently. Voice pitched softer, "Hey-- uh-- wake up? Or if you're going to pass out do it on a couch or something, you'll thank yourself in the morning."
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His eyes flutter open at the nudging and he turns his head, blinking at Matt in a very puzzled way. "What?"
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