[Yes, she's checked. She checks on them twice a week, frankly, going up both to stare longingly at her other half and to ensure the others stay where they are. Or, well, no, that's not entirely right: Elizabeth would be welcome, but beyond her . . . no. The rest can stay on ice for eternity for all Rosalind cares.
She shifts back on the couch, giving him room to tug up his trousers. It's for the best Bigby doesn't ask after Robert; she isn't certain she could contain her emotions if they were to talk of him, and she's no desire to burst into tears like some kind of child.
She's always painfully aware of their separation, though. They've never been apart for so long. Even when they were teenagers, they'd had the atom. Slow, yes, but he'd been there. Twenty years of having him at her side, always a word away, and now it's been three months . . . god, she misses him. Her fingers clench in her lap as she thinks of it. She misses him so badly; there's not a conversation that goes by that she doesn't think of him and what he might say, or do, or feel. Her beloved, her guiding light, torn away from their paradise and trapped in some bloody space station--
Enough. Rosalind glances back up at Bigby, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Enough. She won't let her thoughts linger on Robert. Instead, she offers a slight smile. It's teasing and almost genuine.]
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[Yes, she's checked. She checks on them twice a week, frankly, going up both to stare longingly at her other half and to ensure the others stay where they are. Or, well, no, that's not entirely right: Elizabeth would be welcome, but beyond her . . . no. The rest can stay on ice for eternity for all Rosalind cares.
She shifts back on the couch, giving him room to tug up his trousers. It's for the best Bigby doesn't ask after Robert; she isn't certain she could contain her emotions if they were to talk of him, and she's no desire to burst into tears like some kind of child.
She's always painfully aware of their separation, though. They've never been apart for so long. Even when they were teenagers, they'd had the atom. Slow, yes, but he'd been there. Twenty years of having him at her side, always a word away, and now it's been three months . . . god, she misses him. Her fingers clench in her lap as she thinks of it. She misses him so badly; there's not a conversation that goes by that she doesn't think of him and what he might say, or do, or feel. Her beloved, her guiding light, torn away from their paradise and trapped in some bloody space station--
Enough. Rosalind glances back up at Bigby, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Enough. She won't let her thoughts linger on Robert. Instead, she offers a slight smile. It's teasing and almost genuine.]
You'd be worried?