(no subject)

[fishy_go_byebye]

[The message to evacuate had somehow gotten lost between a tumble out of the dryer and a visit in the lobby with dancing chalk.

That was okay. Evacuations made her her itch and her skin run away. It was better, to just try and avoid the fast and quite.]

...don't like that gunk, not really grape... ape ate ace face facilitatory ish ed mmm...

...bring back some of the rocks. Not from those caves, though, the sand is slimy...

[Her journal is being toted around by one cover, and occasionally the sounds of her muttering waft quiet words onto the pages.]

Comments

[workaphilic]

[He shuts his journal.]

They're comatose. Poisoned.

[It seems like a relevant thing to say. He doesn't know what a zombie is.]

[fishy_go_byebye]

Oh? [She wanders along the wall, hand trailing over the scene.

But, hey. There's one of her favorites. She'll just stop wandering now, and settle down next to him.]

Oh. Dreaming when there was no Dream.

[workaphilic]

[He's calmer now. The last thing he needs is someone else to fret embarrassingly over.]

Yes. Not very pleasant, obviously.

[fishy_go_byebye]

Is it?

[Her hand scratches over the floor near his foot.]

There could be streamers add. Those flowy ones tat sparkle and crackle and catch on fire.

[workaphilic]

Could be. Still, I think they'd much prefer not to be comatose.

[fishy_go_byebye]

[A shrug. Just another one of those things that will pass.]

Can we go to the embassy?

[workaphilic]

No.

[Well. That's that, then.]

[fishy_go_byebye]

Mm...

[A pouty face as her head thunks back against the wall.]

[workaphilic]

You'll survive somehow, I imagine.

[fishy_go_byebye]

Don't run to the caves.

[workaphilic]

I don't plan on it. Do you?

[fishy_go_byebye]

I don't like them. [She burrows a bit into her forearms and leaves it like that.]

[workaphilic]

[He just watches her for a second, quietly.]

Can't say I disagree with you.

[fishy_go_byebye]

[Good. She hates it when people disagree with her. She'll even be kind enough not to tilt so she leans against him.

Her word is muffled.]

Good.

[workaphilic]

[He goes silent for a while, steepling his fingers under his chin and staring into space. Thinking.

Then, lightly, like it just occurred to him:]

I realize that you aren't accustomed to or fond of staying in one place, but it's necessary right now. I can't be monitoring you constantly.

[fishy_go_byebye]

[She doesn't say anything. Worry or not, she'll go where she will. He probably knows that, and she could promise - and really truly mean to keep it - but it wouldn't change the facts.]

They told me it's rude to lie.

[workaphilic]

[A pause. Yes, alright.]

Get someone who does have the time to monitor you constantly, then.

[fishy_go_byebye]

Barnabas couldn't come along.

[A little sigh. And then she adds on sulkily.]

...Don't need a keeper.

BLUH NOTIFS STOP HIDING THINGS FROM ME

[workaphilic]

[stiffly:]

You do now.

NEVARRR

[fishy_go_byebye]

[She opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it as she kicks at the floor.

Not fair.]

[workaphilic]

Stop that. [He glowers at the opposite wall.] You'll be thanking me when you're not laid up like the rest of them.

[fishy_go_byebye]

'Snot like they could catch me...

[workaphilic]

[Aaand, he rolls his eyes.]

Oh, well, if you're confident.

[Boy, he is laying that sarcasm on thick.]

[fishy_go_byebye]

[She wiggles away from him a little bit. He doesn't have to say it like that. It was mean, and she didn't deserve it and it wasn't fair!

Have a little sniffle.]

[workaphilic]

[Oh.

He's silent for a few seconds, at a loss for what to do. He didn't intend to upset her, of course, this is just the only way he knows how to deal with the cocktail of emotions he's feeling right now. A twinge of annoyance gets mixed in with the rest of them -- annoyance with himself, if he's really honest, but he does what he always does and points it outward.]

Oh, what now? How is that supposed to do anyone any good?

[Jesus Christ, Sherlock.]