[ John shrugs. He isn't sure worried is quite the right emotion, but he isn't sure how to name the truth. It's easier to just lean into the parental thing that veers in and out of being a joke or a kink: ]
Out so late without even a text?
[ There's no sting to it, if anything he's doing a middling impression of his gran to amuse himself. Adds, more seriously: ]
Look, don't worry about it. Just get yourself warmed up.
I uhm - [and pauses, because there's always a little slither of embarrassment that comes over her when she tries to admit to the parts of her that are. Broken. That do not work the way they should. ] I blanked out. For a while. I was mostly just doing circles, I think.
[Mindlessly, really. Watching the horizon go blurry, get dark, get colder. She shuffles closer to the fire, wraps her arms around herself while her skin regains its feeling. ] No damage to the cart, though. I know it's his baby.
[ John doesn't joke about how the House loves the cart more than any of them, just comes and sits next to her, quiet and careful like he would be with Harrow. ]
Would you like to talk about why?
[ Gaze on the wood stove, watching the wine simmer gently, watching the flames. ]
[ Not enough for him to feel confident guessing on his own. He slides closer, wraps an arm around her waist. He's always sun-warm even underdressed in the cold. ]
[ His big weakness. She'd shown up during a really stressful moment, the All-Sight discussion, and made him laugh. It's the same way House hooked him. ]
I don't judge, Jem. What a terrible hypocrite I'd be if I did. You're good, and I like you.
[ But he will have to break this sweet embrace to take the mulled wine off the heat and pour them both a mug. ]
[She's not too fussed about having to pull away. The wine is a nice balm, anyway. She takes a hesitant little sip after a blow or two, enough time to distract her from thinking I'm not very good, really. Neither is John, or House, or Danny. That's fine. ]
This is good. [The wine. The company. ] I probably won't make you laugh today, though. I feel like a frozen rat.
That's all right. You don't need to be good company.
[ They don't even really need to talk, even if that makes for boring ass log tags. John is a master of sitting in comfortable silence, has no urge to fill it. They can just sip the wine and vibe in the warmth. ]
[Might be, could be, it's always hard to tell when you're a little drunk, when you're comfortable, when you're warm. She tries, instead: ] Tell me about your day?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Out so late without even a text?
[ There's no sting to it, if anything he's doing a middling impression of his gran to amuse himself. Adds, more seriously: ]
Look, don't worry about it. Just get yourself warmed up.
no subject
[Mindlessly, really. Watching the horizon go blurry, get dark, get colder. She shuffles closer to the fire, wraps her arms around herself while her skin regains its feeling. ] No damage to the cart, though. I know it's his baby.
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Would you like to talk about why?
[ Gaze on the wood stove, watching the wine simmer gently, watching the flames. ]
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[it happens, she waits it out. ] Did Danny tell you, about - me?
[child soldier, murderer, coward, coward, coward.] House called me soldier. It’s just been a long time.
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[ Not enough for him to feel confident guessing on his own. He slides closer, wraps an arm around her waist. He's always sun-warm even underdressed in the cold. ]
Got it. Well, it's no trouble.
[ To look after her, to listen. ]
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Why are you so nice to me, John? I'm a mess.
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[ His big weakness. She'd shown up during a really stressful moment, the All-Sight discussion, and made him laugh. It's the same way House hooked him. ]
I don't judge, Jem. What a terrible hypocrite I'd be if I did. You're good, and I like you.
[ But he will have to break this sweet embrace to take the mulled wine off the heat and pour them both a mug. ]
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This is good. [The wine. The company. ] I probably won't make you laugh today, though. I feel like a frozen rat.
no subject
[ They don't even really need to talk, even if that makes for boring ass log tags. John is a master of sitting in comfortable silence, has no urge to fill it. They can just sip the wine and vibe in the warmth. ]
no subject
[Might be, could be, it's always hard to tell when you're a little drunk, when you're comfortable, when you're warm. She tries, instead: ] Tell me about your day?