eiattu_pride | (no subject)

(no subject)

Rial's been working steadily since Plourr left. The work is hard, but he's making some decent headway by now.

Still, he needs a break. And is half-dozing on the couch, empty cup of caf by his fingers, when the call comes.

"...'lo?"

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She had glanced away from the comm unit at a thump from the corridor outside, but she looks back. "No, I'm probably not."

And now she has officially exhausted her list of topics of conversation. Damn.

"You got the note, right?"

"Yeah."

It's sitting crumpled on his desk from where he threw it all those days ago.

"Yeah, I did. Um - when are you coming back?"

I need you.

There's another pause that isn't caused by technical difficulties.

"I-- don't know," she finally says. "I said I'd help with the greenies, and they're supposed to be showing up tomorrow."

Need this. Need flying, need fighting, need them (can't need him because-- can't, she just can't), for now.

Please don't. Please, don't.

It shouldn't be this hard.

"...yeah. Sure. Okay."

And he forgets that she can see him, sink back down onto the couch and tosses the datapad at the wall, ignoring the sound of it bouncing off the empty mug of caf, which shatters, and puts his head in his hands.

I can't do this alone.

Please.

"Come home."

And chances are he doesn't know he's said it.

"Please don't." Please. Please.

Even she is surprised by how small her voice can go.

"What - kriff. I didn't mean that."

But the sad thing is, he did.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm just - don't worry. Have fun. You deserve a vacation."

Rial didn't marry a stupid woman; she is not buying that.

"Rial--"

But she doesn't know how the fuck to continue.

"No. Just forget it."

Gets, up to retrieve the datapad, angry at himself and her and at something that he can't fathom.

"Forget it."

"I--"

Another thump from the corridor, and this time, the door opens and Feylis Ardele steps in, out of the holo's range of vision.

"Hey, Pl--" The blonde pilot sees the holo. "I can go back out if you need more time."

Plourr glances over, shaking her head. "I don't want to kick you out of our quarters." It's late; the other woman probably just wants to sleep.

Unfortunately, this means that the only truly private place onboard the capital ship is now occupied.

She looks back to the unit, quiet. "I should go."

"Yeah."

Sighs.

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later. Have fun."

"Sorry," she says, very softly. And maybe it means something that she knows that Feylis (who shifts uncomfortably, standing off to the side) is there, and she says it anyway. And maybe it doesn't.

"Bye." She flicks it off. Feylis doesn't ask, shooting her a sympathetic look and sitting down on her own bunk, and Plourr doesn't offer any information.

Godfuckingdamnit.

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