[ and John knows what that feels like. to be seen when you'd rather you weren't. to have something that's your own, some private moment of weakness witnessed and unable to be taken back. there's violation in being unmasked, and John's seen enough to Rosalind's stubbornness, enough of her pride to recognise it in the way her shaking words turn thick, stony, hard, gaze turned aside.
he takes the cue. the touch is gone - comfort only works where it's wanted. some people aren't designed to be consoled.
she is fine. (and that's the sort of horseshit he can accept and leave be.)
there's not a good, not a fine, no okay. the whole issue goes dropped, just like that. onwards. all he can do for her now is get her out of here, somewhere safe, where he can make sure she'll manage and then leave her alone to patch up whatever wound was just ripped open or made anew. it's not something a doctor can help, not with anything as simple as stitches, and not with mollification. ]
How far's yours? The closest place I can think to go is Shades.
no subject
he takes the cue. the touch is gone - comfort only works where it's wanted. some people aren't designed to be consoled.
she is fine. (and that's the sort of horseshit he can accept and leave be.)
there's not a good, not a fine, no okay. the whole issue goes dropped, just like that. onwards. all he can do for her now is get her out of here, somewhere safe, where he can make sure she'll manage and then leave her alone to patch up whatever wound was just ripped open or made anew. it's not something a doctor can help, not with anything as simple as stitches, and not with mollification. ]
How far's yours? The closest place I can think to go is Shades.