Participants:
| Scene Title | I Wish You Would Talk |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | There are some things Graeme just won't talk about. Or think about, in the case of being around Remi. |
| Date | February 25, 2011 |
Dorchester Towers: Remi and Graeme's Apartment
The man slips his key into the lock, opens the door. Graeme Cormac is being quiet despite that it's early afternoon, and there is less reason to be quiet. By the door, he pauses, stepping out of the heavy work boots he wears that he's wearing, that were fairly thoroughly cleaned in the mud room of the apartment building. Still, no need to track anything into the house. He sighs, quietly, and as is typical for him, as fits his habits, leans back against the closed door once he has locked it again.
I can't do this. His thoughts are a conflicted mess, with an undercurrent of a desire to be alone. Before moving to his bedroom, he wanders to the kitchen. From the fridge, he grabs one of the small containers of tapioca pudding, a spoon, and a bottle of water, and then, with uncharacteristic weariness.
Then again, the man hasn't slept more than half an hour since Wednesday morning.
It's nigh impossible to sneak up on Remi. Especially in her own home. Telepathy makes for a wonderful warning that people are on their way to your apartment. Which is probably why, before Graeme could even reach the door to the apartment, Remi went and hid in her closet. She lets him have those first few moments of silence.
But once he's in his bedroom, she makes her way out of her closet. A combination of her ballet training, the slipper-socks on her feet, and the luxuriously plush carpets that cover the floors in this condo makes for a completely silent approach. She could probably be a ninja if she wanted to. She pauses at the edge of the door. Once he's set the pudding down and gone closer to the bed, Remi makes her appearance. She steps into the doorway, leaning against it briefly. "Graeme." She raises her brows, waiting for him to turn.
Then, once he's turned, he'll suddenly find a slender ballerina performing a flying leap at him. Most people who aren't trained in how to catch a flying human would be caught off guard by this. Thankfully, there is the bed right behind him. The hopeful end result is likely to be Graeme, on his back on the bed, with Remi giving him a full body hug.
What is wrong, ma chère? You are troubled. Her voice is gentle and soothing in the back of Graeme's mind.
At the very least, Graeme's trained in how to fall, and for a moment, Remi's pushed away, glared at while held up in the air above him, before he realises that oh, it's just his roommate. His body is tense, muscles taut, but he allows the hug, albeit without returning it yet. Tackling someone who spent a good portion of his life working as a bouncer? Not a good idea.
"Everything." His voice cracks, slightly, but he's still keeping tight control of himself, for now. Slowly, one arm wraps around Remi, and Graeme stares up at the ceiling.
And Remi, in turn, is trained in how to be held up in the air, being a ballerina and all. Instinctively, her body straightens, her arms going out behind her to balance herself. And for a moment, it looks like she's flying, just like on the stage; it's easy to feel the strength in those lean muscles of hers. His glare is met with a faint smile, up until he allows the hug. At this point, she wraps her arms around him, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
"Do you want to talk about it?" The redhead plants an affectionate kiss on Graeme's temple, before pulling back to look at him in the eyes. "I'll do anything I can to 'elp, Graeme. You know that, right?" For once, she's pronouncing 'th' correctly; she usually just doesn't bother. Today's a special occasion.
"Start by not surprising me like that in the future?" The words are tinged with the slow drawl that he sometimes bothers not to let into his voice. For the moment, Graeme isn't bothering. "I've had a bit of a rough few days of it, and startlement is …" he lets the words fade off into thought. Not particularly good. Most people who surprise me get a lot worse, you know.
Slowly, Graeme nods, fingers curling around Remi's shoulder. Using the solidity of her presence to keep himself from losing it any further. Yes, he appreciates her concern, and such, but there are limits. Losing it, in front of people … well, he's already done enough of that recently. Instead, he brings his free hand up beneath his head. He doesn't speak aloud, not trusting his voice as happens to him. I know. Right now, it's too much. I can't talk about it, much, or I'll get angry, I won't be able to do what I need to do. I have to deal with the things requiring actions first, and then I can deal with my feelings on the matter later. The stream of thought pauses. It's the only way I can do this. But 'this' isn't specified.
"Done." Remi offers a slow nod, laying down atop Graeme to let her chin rest against his chest, peering up at him quietly, a thoughtful look on her face. One hand, with her perfectly manicured nails, reachs up to run through his short hair. A soothing gesture. Then, she closes her eyes, offering Graeme a warm squeeze. If you need to lose it in front of someone, I'm your girl…it's not good to keep your emotions bottled up. I'm worried about you.
Another soft squeeze is offered to Graeme. "I was worried when you didn't come 'ome. Got worried that something had 'appened." Blue eyes turn up toward Graeme.
What did happen is purposefully not being thought about at the moment. "The less you know the safer you are," Graeme says, aloud. "I got me dragged into this, and I didn't have a particular choice about it …" He won't let Remi get caught up in it as well. He's serious about the less she knows part, and he pauses.
"I'm sorry. I should have come home." Graeme shifts, slightly, holding Remi close, protective. "But I couldn't, not yet. When it's all over …" if it ever is, this is a war and I can't be fucking overpositive about it… "I'll tell you everything. I promise." It's a sincere promise, as well.
But really, the man has gotten close to tiring himself out. "I went and threw myself at working for a while." It's what he does when he's needing to deal with anything. "And last night … I couldn't. Not yet." He gently squeezes her shoulders, by way of apology.
"I wish that you would talk to me. It's not like I'm going to get dragged into anything." She puts a finger to her lips. "I can keep secrets like you wouldn't believe." She squeezes her room mate once more, nuzzling her face against his chest. He's so warm. "I don't like feeling…left out. You've become like…" She pauses, thinking of the best way to put it. "The older brother I never 'ad. You've become family, Graeme. The…the only family I really 'ave any more." She's never spoken about her father to Graeme, or anyone, before.
She offers a soft sigh, closing her eyes as she rests atop him. "Try to come 'ome more often, oui? I worry about you too much when you disappear for days on end." She squeezes him again.
I wish I could. When things settle a little. It hurts to keep things from you, but it's better that way. You're important to me, Remi. I can't let you get dragged into this. Involuntarily, Graeme's mind flashes briefly on what he isn't talking about. A sister that's apparently Humanis First. His own pro-Evolved stance. Quickly, the thought is replaced by more pleasant, neutral ones, predominantly soccer plays and other things. Aloud, he merely responds. "I'll try."
Within a few minutes of that, Graeme's drifted into a troubled sleep, still keeping hold of Remi. But she'll be able to slip out without waking him, and he'll likely be gone when she returns later in the afternoon, having slept, showered, changed, left to go back to the work he's been helping with.
