Feb 02 11:27:01 106 PA
From Chronicles
The current game time is: Wed Feb 02 11:27:01 106 PA.
This is one of the many recovery rooms available in the KEC. Most rooms have two to four beds, though private rooms are available as well. Due to the nature of most of the clientele the KEC takes care of, most of the rooms are relatively spartan but feature miniature televisions with wireless headsets and offer an assortment of local shows and new to pre-rifts movies. Each bed has a simple bedside table complete with a stocked magazine rack. What few pictures there are on the walls are usually of assorted battle scenes, though these can be altered at the touch of a button to a wide assortment of views for those of a less war like nature. Meals here come thrice daily for most, though sometimes more or less for those with special dietary needs.
It's morning and Atticus comes in with breakfast - bags of it. He settles back into his regular seat, food nearby - and lifts a paper to begin reading from it after gently tugging the sheets over Cali, stroking her hair and resting his hand in her own as he reads the paper against the bed and his chair, moving it one handed.
She has been sleeping, exhausted by the emotion of the evening before, and it shows in the steadiness of her breath and the calmness of the machines that keep a weather eye on her stats. Slowly she stirs, opening sleepheavy eyes and giving Atticus a small smile, the wide sunny one a thing of the past these days. "Bought enough for me?" She asks, her voice husky.
Atticus smiles, "I did darling, I did," he says as he leans over to brush a kiss over her cheek. He hands over a bag - pulling a tray in to put the breakfast sausage, potatoes fried with melted cheese, omelet with spicy filling and pancakes, pouring out the milk and coffee into small cups with a smile. "How are you doing?"
She squirms up the bed, leaning into the pillows before resting the tray on the space in front of cross legged. She dissects the pancakes slowly, her face thoughtful. "I know about Carl." She speaks softly, glancing at him, sidelong. She takes a small bite of the pancake, licking her fingers, her gaze resting on him.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you," he says, the sadness there in his eyes. "But the doctor wouldn't let me. They forbid me from telling you, said it was too much stress, too much emotion," he says as he frowns and touches her hair, digging into his own pancakes quietly.
She nods slowly, the small smile given once more. "I guess. Made the machines beep a piece." Her voice sounds husky, the thought of Carl upsetting. She eats in silence for a while, crosslegged beneath the sheet, her pajamas buttoned up to her throat.
Atticus leans over to kiss her nose. "I'm sorry. I would've told you if I could. If they would've let me." He pauses and falls quiet and continues to dig into his food. "I bought a new truck for Si Sera, should be delivered about the time that you get out of the hospital," he says. "Figured you could work on it a bit if you wanted to."
She nods absently, slowly pushing the food around on her plate. "Renos came to see me." She speaks abruptly. The offer of the truck work gets him a little smile and a brief nod, nowhere near the enthusiasm it would have a month ago. "Seemed all broke up." She abandons the food, reaching for her coffee.
Atticus frowns, "Again? What did he seem upset about this time? He seems pretty often upset about just anything. ANd I know he doesn't like hospitals - when he came here before he really didn't enjoy it at all," he notes as he smiles at her, taking another bite.
"He was hurtin' from the fights still." She comments quietly, pushing the tray out of her way, half the food untouched. She curls up, her hands wrapped around the mug. "Gonna spend a piece of time readin' 'bout my mind thing, I reckon." Her gaze is serious, less innocent than before, less trusting with the world.
Atticus smiles as he strokes her hair, tilting his head. "Being still hurt makes sense." he says, "About your links with technology, machines?" he asks. "I have some books, if you want to read them sometime."
She nods slowly, not trying to dislodge his hand at all, her face thoughtful. "I'll do that. You bring them in? Still ain't free to be movin' around." Resignation to that in her voice, and she stares into her mug for a few minutes. "Don't you care a piece over Carl? I mean, it ain't seemly to be yellin' 'n' the like but..." She turns confused eyes towards him.
Atticus keeps his hand there, stroking. "Sure, I can do that. And I do. I care a great deal. I was very ... very upset for several days. A week. I still am. I feel bad, if I had been awake and not knocked out on the ship, maybe I could've..." he frowns, shaking his head. "He wanted peace, from all the voices in his head. And he was a hero, to the end. That's what I try to tell myself. He was my friend, and a good reason why the VCF has done so well."
Caliopa does pull away then, moving to curl on her side, pulling in a pillow to hug. For a long moment she looks at him, her lack of comprehension in her face. "Would you have done that if I had died?" She asks softly, "Told yourself that I was some kind of hero 'n' stuff?" She blinks rapidly, trying to push back tears over Carl.
Atticus clears his throat, "Well, you -were- a hero. And you are. But it's two different things. Carl is my friend .. was my friend. But you, you're something different. If you died, I would lose my way for a long, long time. I haven't been involved with someone the way I am with you for .. well, a very, very long time. If I lost you Cali, I would completely lose it. I don't know what I would do," he says.
Caliopa stares at him for a moment, before she glances away, something odd in her face. When she looks back, she shifts, facing him directly, the pillow in her arms hugged tightly. Her fingers fiddle with the button at the top of her pajamas. "Atti, we got to talk. You sayin' that... We got to talk." Her face is serious, and her eyes sad. Tags: atticus, caliopa
