two weeks' paid vacation won't heal the damage done

[outoftheattic]

By this point, Laurence Dominic knew the layout of the Compound like the back of his hand. His recovery had gone much more slowly than he would have liked, although that wasn't saying much. (If he'd had his way, he'd have been out of there the day after he went in. Instead, he'd stayed there over a month.) While he still wasn't completely better,

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[beentodamascus]

They take it in turns to go jogging. Today, Harry's happy, quiet and smiling, so Adam's taken the time, left her with Sarah and Coraline, laced on his running shoes. He's been running flat out for long enough that he's breathing hard, face and back running sweat and he just pauses to catch his breath when he watches the guy stumble.

Dominic, his brain fills in.

"Hey," he says, jogging over. "Good to see you up and about, mate."

[outoftheattic]

"Good to be up and about," Laurence responds, managing a wry sort of smile. (He'll never be a really friendly guy, but he'll put up a little effort. There's no point in making enemies.) He glances briefly down at his feet, as if making sure he's balanced again. Parts of him are almost jealous of Carter, mostly of the fact that the other man's currently in shape enough to really be able to run.

"Just off a run?"

[beentodamascus]

"Snatching the opportunity while the baby's quiet," says Adam, pushing sweaty hair back from his face. "It used to be snatching a few minutes between jobs, now it's just making sure I don't always leave Sarah dealing with the screaming."

[outoftheattic]

"How old's the kid?" It's a stilted question, but an attempt at conversation nonetheless. Lacking his own proper family (you don't stay in touch all that well when you go into the government, and he started working for the NSA a long time ago) and having never had time to start anything else, he doesn't have all that much fodder to draw from.

[crossyourpath]

'Always have a plan' is the motto of people who don't know how to improvise properly. Sure, she's a girl who likes to know where all the exits are, how to get in and out without being seen. But there's an elegance to slipping under the radar that can't be taught. It just sort of happens.

"Don't hurt yourself," is her lazy commentary as she watches the man tumble and fall. Sliding her glasses down her nose, she smiles slightly making no motion to help him walk. He's a big boy. He'll figure it out. "Sand can be a real bitch sometimes."

[outoftheattic]

The difference in preference is, Laurence would probably argue, the distinction between those who set up the radar and those who get in under it.

He dusts some of the sand from his clothing as he finds his feet again, his attitude frustrated rather than embarrassed. He has never been a very patient man -- not when it comes to these sorts of things, at least.

"Tell me something I don't know."

[crossyourpath]

Felicia pauses as if contemplating it in a big way. As if this is something that requires a lot of serious thought and questioning.

It doesn't.

"I could. But then where's the fun in my knowing it and your being in the dark?" There's a hint of teasing in her voice, but there always is. Everything is a joke, even when it clearly isn't. It's better than actually dealing with it.

[outoftheattic]

On one level, her attitude is already proving a source of annoyance (he could hardly tolerate Topher, after all), but on another, it's a change from what he'd grown used to in the Dollhouse. His lips draw themselves into a thin line, his expression wry if nothing else.

"Depends on what it is."

[frakkup]

"Easy," said Kara, lifting her head from where she'd taken quiet refuge on a rock facing the sea.

"I'd hate to have to carry you back, and I bet you would, too."

[outoftheattic]

"More than I can put into words." Her statement alone was enough to put him in a better mood, if only for how spot-on it was. He'd had enough of being an invalid during his first day out for the count, let alone the further damage being hauled back to the Compound would do to his sense of pride.

"I'm fine."

[frakkup]

Kara got up. She didn't know him, but walking closer it was easy to see that he'd been hurt. "You should stick to the boardwalk," she said. "Sand's a bitch enough to walk on as it is."

[outoftheattic]

"I'm fine," he repeated, managing to keep any irritation from his voice, as if this statement would make it untrue that he wasn't yet back in top condition.

"I'll be fine, anyway."

[coercive]

Despite being told on more than one occasion that the island had a talent for pushing one's buttons, Adelle had admittedly underestimated just how cruel and vindictive an enormous, still mass of land could be. But then, this was the same supposed entity that saw fit to quite literally stick her on a desert island with perhaps the single living person she most certainly did not want to find herself stuck with. Perhaps the underestimation should have ended there. Still, she left her hut this morning expecting another normal if excruciatingly slow day on the island, and that, evidently, was her first mistake

[outoftheattic]

Any chance that she might have had of getting away unnoticed, at least, was almost immediately nixed out the moment Dominic was back on solid footing. In any given space, he made it a habit of knowing exactly who was present and where any possible exit and entrance points were. While the same principles hardly applied to a beach, that didn't mean he wasn't going to stay on his game

[coercive]

For a moment (perhaps more) the best Adelle could do was tilt her head, incapable of concealing her surprise (and, admittedly, her confusion). Wherever they stood, it was an area far beyond gray, but despite not having known what to expect, this was certainly not among the possibilities. Then again, there was at least some small part of her that was both confounded and relieved each day she survived without being sought out for revenge. It was easier, maybe, to place Laurence Dominic on level with herself; not to believe him to be above vengeance because she certainly never was. Each time she escaped confrontation, he grew more difficult to understand, a fact with which she was far less than comfortable

[outoftheattic]

"Yeah, I finally got kicked out of the nest," he said dryly, his expression a strained approximation of a smile. Not really knowing how he wanted to approach any conversation with her was, to say the least, a bit of a problem. Was he supposed to be outright angry, bitter, sarcastic, resigned, apathetic, or what? Lacking an answer, his responses generally came out stuck awkwardly somewhere in between.