Every Small Thing


graeme2_icon.gif savannah_icon.gif

Scene Title Every Small Thing
Synopsis Tea turns to discussion of whether Graeme's alright, turns to discussion of the world not being alright.
Date April 12, 2011

Dorchester Towers: Remi & Graeme's Apartment

This time, when Graeme opens the door to let Savannah in, he's much less of a sorry sight than he'd been the last time, and there's a smile on his face. "Hey." The greeting is uttered easily, and as usual, he waits for her to have stepped in before redoing the deadbolts on the door, and because he's not expecting anyone else, the chain. There are few signs of the apartment being actually lived-in at the moment, aside from an electric kettle on the stove, and a bowl of kibble dog food and a bowl of water near the kitchen. It might be that he simply hasn't spent that much time here, recently. And a minute or so after the door shuts, a great big Great Dane comes bounding out from Graeme's bedroom, looking at Graeme and then at Savannah with a quiet vocalisation, to which Graeme gives a bit of a grin.

"Oh, Savannah, this is Odin. My sister's dog." There's a bit of a pause, and the dog perks up at his name. At the shoulder, he comes nearly to Graeme's waist. "Odin, friend."

Savannah smiles at him as she makes her way in, looking back to the dog for a moment. "Oh, he's beautiful. I've always wanted to have a dog, but it's just so hard without having a house. I'd want to have a yard for a dog." She says, looking back to the dog before Graeme himself. "You certainly look better."

There's a nod from Graeme. "Yeah. But I couldn't say no, when she asked me to watch him for her for a while." There's a hint of doubt in his voice, that he really isn't sure whether his sister will ever come back, but it's pushed aside, not visible on his face. "I'm starting to work on getting some movement back, and lifting stuff. Simple stuff, really."

At the prompting from Graeme, though, Odin plods the few steps over to Savannah, in what is possibly the most obvious doggy ploy for attention ever, and it draws another smile from Graeme as he reaches to pet Odin on his way to the kitchen. "Can I offer you some tea, maybe? I think there's stuff for coffee, too, I was just making tea because it's simpler." There's a lot in his manner to indicate that he's doing better, as well. "Or, I dunno. But thanks for coming over, yeah? How have you been?"

The blonde reaches to pet Odin, grinning a bit at the dog before she looks back to Graeme. "Tea would be splendid. I've been busy, getting things ready for my book release. I'm alright, though. Just haven't had enough time by myself to really have anything be anything but okay."

There's a nod, and Graeme makes his way through the open living room to the kitchen, turning on the electric kettle when he gets there. Two mugs are pulled down, left handed and set on the counter, each with a bit of a click of ceramic against stone countertop. "Sometimes that's good," he admits, then leaning on the counter and looking over. "It's been hectic, for me, really. But there's worse than hectic, I suppose." Such as the fact that several of his friends are now topping wanted lists, but for the most part, Graeme's keeping himself clear of that train of thought.

"What sort of tea? The drawer is pretty well stocked." With types of tea that normally, Graeme couldn't even think of affording, usually, along with the usual staples of varying green and black teas, Lipton and the like.

"Green tea would be fantastic," Savannah says, looking back over at him. "I like to keep busy but… I dunno, sometimes it's too much.. and then sometimes, when you stop, it's horrible because things feel so quiet and empty."

"Green tea it is." After a moment of shuffling, largely still one handed, the drawer slides shut, with two boxes of teabags having been set on the counter to wait for the electric kettle to finish heating the water, one put into each cup. "Yeah. I know that one." There's a drawl and colour to Graeme's words, more than the usual, which had been starting to take on the hint of having been back in New York for a bit. "Pretty well." Half a chuckle from the man as he catches the kettle beginning to whistle, hitting a button on the side and picking it up, pouring water into the cups.

Savannah watches him quietly, rubbing the back of her neck where she's sore from bending over work on her table for so long. "God, I think I need to sleep more. I feel like I've been running non-stop for days or something. I've been so productive, but… it's really wearing me down. Nice to get out of the house, though. Kinda been holing myself up in there lately."

"I've barely been here, recently," Graeme says, his own cup of tea picked up in hand and a gesture for Savannah to come and get hers. "All that hecticness, been out and doing and … And yeah. Sleep's a good thing." There's a wry grin at the irony of him being the one to say that aloud, as he takes a sip. "I get more of it, these days. But that might be a benefit of that Aric keeps more normal hours than I."

Snatching up her tea, Savannah looks back to him. "How are things with you and the boy? I love hearing stories of love and romance. I'm a softie at heart. I mean, Kam was one of the big drawing factors in me moving to New York. I think I fell in love the first time I heard his voice from the other half of the country."

When Graeme speaks, there's that silly, schoolboy-ish grin on his face again. "Things are good. It's hectic for him too, at the moment, but things are good." There's not even the usual qualification of I think added to the end of the sentence, and Graeme's cheeks tinge a faint shade of red.

"You're sounding happy, at least. I'm glad things are working out," Savannah says, tea blown on before carefully sipped. "You're adorable when you talk about guys… very classic romance. Not enough of that kind of giddiness these days."

Of course, her statement doesn't do anything to precisely help the blushing, and the faint shade of red intensifies, Graeme hiding momentarily behind the cup of tea. "I'm glad things are working out, too. It's nice." As well as being still perhaps the most normal thing in his life at the moment.

Savannah's mug is held between her hands, warming them around its surface before she looks into it. "So things are well in that aspect, at least. It's good to hear some good news, for once."

There's a moment of pause before Graeme manages to smile a bit, and nod. "Yeah. So much else… isn't. Good news, and all that." Another sip from his tea. "Something has to be."

"But you're holding up just fine?" Savannah questions, looking over at him with a still slightly worried expression. "Everyone's got shit going on, so… I dunno. I just don't wanna hear about you breaking down."

Once again, Graeme's answer comes after a moment of pause. "Yeah, I'm holding up. It'll all work out." Perhaps false certainty that quivers a little in the stating, but there's a true smile, appreciative of the concern and quiet at the same time, as he holds the cup of tea near to his chest. "Thanks." He leans back on the counter, falling quiet momentarily.

"You promise you're alright? Cause I'll worry like hell if I'm not completely sure. I do that about all my friends, you know. Especially you. Cause you always seem like you've got too much on your plate," Savannah says, resting the mug on her leg.

"It is a lot, right now," Graeme admits, quietly. He could have backed out, could have had less on his plate, but that's not like him. There's a chuckle, and another smile, before he looks down for a little. "But I am alright." A pause. "I promise." Sure, even and level, the asked for promise is given. "Worried overall, and maybe tired a bit still, but I'm alright."

Sipping lightly from her mug again, Savannah nods. "Alright. I believe you. I just don't want to let you get away without unloading about stuff if you really need to talk or get something off your chest."

There's another smile offered, and Graeme pauses, a sip of tea taken as he thinks. "Thanks. I know it's not much and all, but it means a lot." There's a grin as he walks over towards the couch, finally, having decided that maybe they've been standing in the kitchen for long enough. "Stay for lunch? I'm afraid all I can offer is take-out, or such, since I haven't precisely restocked the kitchen. But I'd love the company." And there's a tone of voice acknowledging that maybe the company would do him some good.

"Takeout would be fantastic and I would love the company. Kam'll be proud I got out and did something. Even if it is just coming upstairs and having lunch with a friend," Savannah says, moving towards the couch.

"Awesome," Graeme responds, folding himself onto the corner of the couch that is his in a rather less than graceful motion, and then setting the tea down on the coffeetable so that he can stretch. "Aric'll be glad I'm doing something other than worrying about Liz." There's a faint furrow of his brows, but quickly dismissed, as quickly as the slip of mentioning Elisabeth in the first place. "And so, I've been wanting Indian food. I think there's somewhere out here that delivers."

"Wouldn't be good to have him worrying about you worrying," Savannah teases, looking back towards Graeme. "I think there is. I usually go pick it up when I get Indian because Kam's got this place across town he really likes so I bring some home occasionally. Too far for delivery, though."

Graeme nods. "I'm very fond of places that deliver," he says, with a grin. "I haven't been able to drive or anything, recently, and I don't have a car here anyway." There's another chuckle. "Not that I want one. I could get one, but really, no. Traffic here? No."

"Uh, I know! I love walking, though. I think my calves have become rocks since I moved here. I walk so much and I hate driving. I'd take transit more but people actually occasionally recognize me on the street and sometimes that can get awkward while stuck on a bus," Savannah admits sheepishly. "I'm just lucky I haven't had any stalkers yet."

Another nod. "Yeah, I can see how that'd be," he responds. "So far, I've made it easy on myself. I never bothered to get my license here, even when I did finally get around to changing my registration to reflect that I live here." There's a pause, as he sets down the cup of tea, walking to the kitchen and then back with a folder full of take out menus, and pulling one out. "I'll be glad when I can skateboard again. Been not doing so, because if I fall, with the shoulder, well…"

"Oh, god, yeah… don't fall and hurt yourself," Savannah winces. "God, I'm just glad I'm not in the habit of getting myself hurt much. I dunno that I'd last with an injury like yours lasting all that long…"

"It's most of the way healed, now," Graeme says. The week of negation followed by taking it easy and then three days in a DHS cell with no choice but to take it easy has been good for that. "Now the hardest part is not just forgetting that it's injured, for me." There's a sheepish grin. "I've always been a bit of one for the extreme, and risk, but wasn't in the habit of getting hurt until this."

"Ooh, yeah, not forgetting the injury is a good thing. You're just lucky that you aren't some feeble person like me. That could've lasted a lot longer and been a lot worse," Savannah chuckles. "Clearly I'm not allowed to ever get hurt. Aside from the gray hairs it will give Kam."

There's another sheepish smile. "Yeah, something like that. I've gotten a bit better at not forgetting it, though." He sounds proud of himself, if it's something one should be able to be proud of. "And no, you're definitely not allowed to get hurt. At least if I get hurt, I'm able to deal with it, and all that. And really, nothing quite of that magnitude should be happening again anyway."

"I think I'd be squished like a little bug if I got hurt, you know. So really… I think I'm good. No getting hurt." Savannah studies him for a long moment. "Lot of people find themselves in some pretty dangerous situations these days. You'll be careful, won't you?"

There's a brief pause as Graeme dials, puts in the order for food, and then confirms the address, phone going back in his pocket and then he nods to Savannah. "I will be." There's a certain wry tone to his voice. The irony that careful, if you had asked him ten years earlier, would have been one of the last words he'd ever use to describe himself. "At least, I'll try."

"Good, because as much as I hate it, this world seems to be turning out just as bad as the one in my books. I just need to make sure it doesn't keep doing that. God, people are going to think I'm dooming the world or something or seeing the future," Savannah says, scratching the back of her neck.

There's a hint of a wince at the statement. "Every small thing, every small bit of good we put into the world," he murmurs. It's not a full sentence, but it seems to be Graeme's only comment as far as how bad things are getting. "And stopping it from getting worse, yeah."

"I'm trying like hell. I mean, I try to tone down anything political in my books, but the message is still look what this is doing to us as a people. I mean, at this rate it'll be a civil war. It'll be as bad as racism, every single freedom our country has had being taken away," Savannah looks back to Graeme. "Sure, it's packaged prettily in a well-written book to meet the needs of the masses, but… I'm not just in it for the enjoyment of writing. I'm in it to get the message out there and make this understanding happen… and it sucks because I'm failing. I don't know that I'm making that much of an impact."

"They're already using Staten Island for forced relocation, and detention in some cases," Graeme says, quietly. "You're doing what you can, and other folk are doing what they can, and maybe… just maybe it'll be enough to make a difference." There's a faint, grim smile offered. "You're not failing, I don't think. Some people just don't want to see." It scares him, that people don't want to see, but it's the truth as far as he can tell.

"Some people only want to see when it's shoved in front of their faces, irrefutable in the entirety." A frown plays on his face, and Graeme reaches over to pet Odin, who at some point laid down along the edge of the couch on the floor, a knotted rope toy under one paw and mainly asleep. Some people… like his sister. "Reminds me. I should see about contacting her— my sister's— uncle, letting him know."

Savannah glances at the dog before she looks to Graeme. "Well, I tried to show it to them before it was too late and now the world is just as bad as the one in my novels. Although, really, our government isn't doing so much to be subtle about an evolved ghetto." She shrugs her shoulders. "It's… inhumane. Next they'll be separating out people with disabilities, different racial backgrounds, and pronouncing non-Evolved genetically healthy whites the only species suitable for the planet."

Graeme looks over at Savannah. "It is." And it is a war, it has come to that, and there's a grim certainty on his face. "But well, food should be here soon." The topic is summarily let to drop, happier topics brought up before lunch arrives. Things that are cheerier than sitting around and worrying.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License