eiattu_pride | (no subject)

(no subject)

The door, thankfully, opens on the quarters that they're sharing at the moment. Rial glances out of the corner of his eye at the guards, still supporting Plourr.

To her, "Almost almost there, mmkay?"

To the guards, "Mind opening the door?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She carefully slides out of the bed and pads over to the half-stocked dresser, pulling a tunic and pair of trousers from the top of first drawer she opens.

She squeezes into the tiny 'fresher and sets the dry clothes on the counter. Then she presses her chin against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against his (wet, cold, and she doesn't care) side.

"Me, too." And honestly, it's not nearly as hard to say as it once would have been.

A quiet moment passes, and the relief--he's alright--is suffocating.

"Were you even armed?"

He's already shirtless, but his hair is dripping uncomfortably and he's cold enough to press back into her warmth.

Tilts his head back, "Yeah. Vibroblade."

He knows he was stupid.

But everything's so kriffed up and he just didn't know what else to do.

Another beat and then he's turning, kissing her, breaking away and "You know I love you, right? So much."

She's trying to turn her head away, but he leans in and kisses her too quickly and she smiles faintly, blowing her nose with the tissues held in one hand. "Enough that you're willing to risk being infected by the mutant virus, apparently."

A pause and her smile falls away and she answers more seriously, "I know. I just -- I forget that you aren't used to life constantly being chaos. To people dying."

Crying and a blaster shot from the next room. Living on the run, forever afraid that her identity would be discovered; later living with the shadow of the Empire looming over the battered capital ships and the X-wings.

The temple blossoming into a brilliant fireball on Malrev IV, twin explosions over Brentaal, a lifeless body covered with a sheet on Ciutric-- a mangled conference room with blood still spattered across the walls.

Plourr is pretty damn used to it, herself.

She kisses his cold neck, in lieu of his cheek.

"I don't get sick," he informs her. "Ever."

There's a pause, and he glances away.

"Yeah."

Plourr isn't a superstitious woman, but even she shoots him a slightly horrified look at that. She nearly says 'I can't believe you just said that,' but then he's looking away and -- yeah.

She, too, is silent. She doesn't want him to know the chaos, doesn't want him to know what it's like when people are dying all around you. She wants to protect him, which is illogical and irrational; he's a grown man and he's strong, he's perfectly capable of protecting himself -- but the fierce protectiveness is still there.

She says, "You're cold; you should dry off." She steps back. "And bring at least a blaster next time." So she doesn't have to sit and wait and worry. So she doesn't have to suffer those three days all over again, but for good. She leans in and presses a sweet kiss to his neck again, and then she pads back out into the bedroom.

Rial glances over at her. There's a crooked smile, "Yes ma'am," and he sets to drying himself off and changing.

When he's done, he comes back out into the bedchamber, and perches on the side of the bed.

"Hurry up and get better. I want to kiss you properly."

She glances up from where she's curled up with the datapad, hair falling into her eyes again. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. "What's properly?"

"On the lips," he explains, "and then pretty much everywhere."

:D?

A slow grin. "That sounds nice."

"So."

He taps her nose.

"Be good."

"Hey." She gestures vaguely at the bed. "Look where I am right now."

It has nothing to do with the fact that he was right and she can't move very far very fast.

Really.

"Because I put you there."

Hah.

She tosses her stylus at him. "You were gone for hours. I easily could have gone and sat--" A pause for coughing, and then she goes on as if nothing happened. "--In the other room."

"Yes, but did you?"

He's curious.

"No." That's the point.

He pats her on the head.

"Good for you."

Baleful, baleful stare.

Innocent, innocent Rial.

She already threw her stylus. She doesn't want to throw her datapad.

So he just gets punched in the arm, instead.

"Ow!"

D:

She rolls her eyes. "Quit being a baby. I didn't even hit you that hard."

"Did so."

D:!!!

His indignation is met with a flat look. "No, I didn't." And then her eyes return to her datapad.

Though her foot might just make contact with his hip and lightly shove.

Rial pouts for a moment longer.

Then smiles, pecks her lightly on the cheek, and gets up.

"I've got to go back to work, okay?"

"Okay," she says, and she sniffles perfectly serenely because she knows that she stole a datacard with half the workload from his 'pad, and he doesn't.

She glances up, at him. "Do you want to take a break in an hour? I think I could eat something simple."