[ She can hear cotton dragging over whiskers and nearly the gears turning in his head, puzzling out his silences for what words he may be stringing together, why he's deliberating and what it may be over. Then that towel travels elsewhere, over sun-baked skin and down his legs, hearing his joints work as he bends forward, then the clothes he pulls on. The last bit of rustling preceding the following silence tells her he's finished and she opens her eyes again with a little smile, turning her head to find him exactly where she'd pinpointed him.
It's quick to lose its ease when he finally says what he'd been building up in his mind, though it never entirely falls— he's stepping closer and offering her the towel, after all. One brow furrows as she tips her head, huffing out a soft sigh before she's pushing herself upright with palms at her knees and taking the towel from his hands. She doesn't look terribly surprised; only chagrined. Ahab is steady, yes, but it still isn't easy to discuss. Especially not when he follows the fact with another, and she throws the towel in a tidy loop, up over his head before tugging the folds of terrycloth up from his shoulders to cover his hair, fingers splaying wide.
Her touch is gentle even as she ruffles wet hair, using the proximity to draw him in just another inch closer. As if the topic were something to keep private between them, as if anyone else were in the bathroom, let alone the house. ]
With injuries as severe as you've sustained, I'm glad it was only so long.
...So when you'd arrived here... [ "You hadn't been with us very long, had you?" finishes itself. She remembers how quiet he'd been back then, as well. Overwhelmed. Needing the quiet to process, conversation sparse but friendly, kept shallow. How they'd joked so lightly of having hours-long briefings thrown in his face, still expressing gratitude they had familiar faces to find here at all.
One thumb brushes along the base of the shrapnel embedded there before both hands slip down to cup his nape, thumbs rubbing the towel behind his ears until she can draw him down into a hug. The kind she doesn't let go of easily, cradling his head to her shoulder and ready to stand there for hours if it helped. ]
...You've not had an easy life, Ahab. I'm sorry.
[ There it is, that little admission. An apology for all he's had to suffer through and everything else thrown at him. ]
no subject
It's quick to lose its ease when he finally says what he'd been building up in his mind, though it never entirely falls— he's stepping closer and offering her the towel, after all. One brow furrows as she tips her head, huffing out a soft sigh before she's pushing herself upright with palms at her knees and taking the towel from his hands. She doesn't look terribly surprised; only chagrined. Ahab is steady, yes, but it still isn't easy to discuss. Especially not when he follows the fact with another, and she throws the towel in a tidy loop, up over his head before tugging the folds of terrycloth up from his shoulders to cover his hair, fingers splaying wide.
Her touch is gentle even as she ruffles wet hair, using the proximity to draw him in just another inch closer. As if the topic were something to keep private between them, as if anyone else were in the bathroom, let alone the house. ]
With injuries as severe as you've sustained, I'm glad it was only so long.
...So when you'd arrived here... [ "You hadn't been with us very long, had you?" finishes itself. She remembers how quiet he'd been back then, as well. Overwhelmed. Needing the quiet to process, conversation sparse but friendly, kept shallow. How they'd joked so lightly of having hours-long briefings thrown in his face, still expressing gratitude they had familiar faces to find here at all.
One thumb brushes along the base of the shrapnel embedded there before both hands slip down to cup his nape, thumbs rubbing the towel behind his ears until she can draw him down into a hug. The kind she doesn't let go of easily, cradling his head to her shoulder and ready to stand there for hours if it helped. ]
...You've not had an easy life, Ahab. I'm sorry.
[ There it is, that little admission. An apology for all he's had to suffer through and everything else thrown at him. ]
The dissociation is tied into this?