[ It isn't pity. Angela scarcely even knows how to pity others; it's empathy, understanding, sorrow. Relief and gratitude and a multitude of other emotions, all carefully folded and tucked back down so she doesn't overwhelm him with them.
Jack isn't far off in his knowledge of her scrutiny. She picks up on all the little things he gives her from the feel of him beneath her hands to his breathing to the wounds and scars he's suffered, all the new marks in his skin she'd never seen. She knows which ones were bullet grazes and which were shrapnel bits he'd dug out and which were knives, and she knows exactly which ones dug deep enough to still ache. Where he's most likely to knot up.
All the things he didn't say as the wind seeps out of his sails and he trails off, finally prompting her questions.
Just how blunt should she be? Where should she ask him to start...? ]
How has your diet been? [ Yet she's asking with a tired amusement to soften her tone, the corner of a little smile at his temple before she shakes her head with a little huff— it was mostly a joke. ] What injuries did you have...? Have you had? Did you ever have any help?
[ Things she likely knows the answers to already, but it's another nudge for him to start at the beginning. From ground zero as it were. She shifts in his lap, a scarce inch closer as she curls, fitting herself against him a little more. ]
no subject
Jack isn't far off in his knowledge of her scrutiny. She picks up on all the little things he gives her from the feel of him beneath her hands to his breathing to the wounds and scars he's suffered, all the new marks in his skin she'd never seen. She knows which ones were bullet grazes and which were shrapnel bits he'd dug out and which were knives, and she knows exactly which ones dug deep enough to still ache. Where he's most likely to knot up.
All the things he didn't say as the wind seeps out of his sails and he trails off, finally prompting her questions.
Just how blunt should she be? Where should she ask him to start...? ]
How has your diet been? [ Yet she's asking with a tired amusement to soften her tone, the corner of a little smile at his temple before she shakes her head with a little huff— it was mostly a joke. ] What injuries did you have...? Have you had? Did you ever have any help?
[ Things she likely knows the answers to already, but it's another nudge for him to start at the beginning. From ground zero as it were. She shifts in his lap, a scarce inch closer as she curls, fitting herself against him a little more. ]