[ Well, at least he knows he has a guardian angel he can wander back to whenever he needs a healthy dose of human interaction, now. No one deserves to go into battle time and again, alone, having to face the horrors the world loved to throw at them. Not without someone to help them back and see to their wounds, physical or otherwise. If she can be his inspiration by simply existing, by all means— she'll continue to do so with relish.
The good doctor continues her ministrations on taut muscle, hands sinking down to the planes of his shoulderblades to knead in here, as well, then back up to swirl over his shoulder joints, taking her sweet time until a glance at her wrist indicates it's time for another layer. The glue is drawn back out of her pocket and the second application goes on while she supports his head with her free hand, this one spreading out from the wound to form a solid base and limit tearing or tugging before she's capping the pen off once more to tuck away. Her touch eases right back in where she'd left off, palms settling at the joints and slender fingers seeking out muscle definition, pressing into him with care. The groan she works out of him gets a curl of her lips buried in his hair, and yes, this is far better than her last chance at massaging him. He wasn't in such agonizing pain this time around and she wasn't jabbing needles into his joints, marveling at how his skin could have deteriorated in only two days, how he could have aged so drastically that the pains hit all at once and he'd been miserable.
They've grown closer since then, as well. Learned more about one another, felt out their space and how much they could give or take in multiple aspects. But more importantly, they made a great team, didn't they? They'd made it here after all, even after parting ways aboard the Moira. She covers as much ground over his shoulders as she can, giving his muscles a break from her kneading as her palms slip back up his neck and her thumbs brush along his hairline.
She nearly thinks he won't answer, and it's a stutter of surprise in her actions when he speaks up again, assuming he'd fall silent. Hasn't he already begun to open up to her? Angela's tried to prove herself worthy thus far. ]
And if I told you I'd guard it with me life, keep the cards close to my chest? —I believe is how the phrase went.
no subject
The good doctor continues her ministrations on taut muscle, hands sinking down to the planes of his shoulderblades to knead in here, as well, then back up to swirl over his shoulder joints, taking her sweet time until a glance at her wrist indicates it's time for another layer. The glue is drawn back out of her pocket and the second application goes on while she supports his head with her free hand, this one spreading out from the wound to form a solid base and limit tearing or tugging before she's capping the pen off once more to tuck away. Her touch eases right back in where she'd left off, palms settling at the joints and slender fingers seeking out muscle definition, pressing into him with care. The groan she works out of him gets a curl of her lips buried in his hair, and yes, this is far better than her last chance at massaging him. He wasn't in such agonizing pain this time around and she wasn't jabbing needles into his joints, marveling at how his skin could have deteriorated in only two days, how he could have aged so drastically that the pains hit all at once and he'd been miserable.
They've grown closer since then, as well. Learned more about one another, felt out their space and how much they could give or take in multiple aspects. But more importantly, they made a great team, didn't they? They'd made it here after all, even after parting ways aboard the Moira. She covers as much ground over his shoulders as she can, giving his muscles a break from her kneading as her palms slip back up his neck and her thumbs brush along his hairline.
She nearly thinks he won't answer, and it's a stutter of surprise in her actions when he speaks up again, assuming he'd fall silent. Hasn't he already begun to open up to her? Angela's tried to prove herself worthy thus far. ]
And if I told you I'd guard it with me life, keep the cards close to my chest? —I believe is how the phrase went.