Participants:
| Scene Title | Measure of Bonding |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The recovery starts after sleeping beauty wakes up |
| Date | January 5, 2011 |
Dorchester Towers — Russo's Apartment
A few days after waking and many days after Christmas, Delia Ryans is sitting up in bed struggling with a wrapped package. Her brother calls it therapy, the unvoiced frustration of the redhead would indicate the opposite. Her body isn't quick to comply with her will, when it does she can't control it very well. Everything feels heavy and foreign, like she was put back in the wrong place. The mirror disagrees.
She doesn't talk much, if at all. When she does try to communicate its with the same simple gestures that chimps use in labs. ASL but cruder. Already Delia's unwrapped a collection of books to practice reading, a large selection of child toys to practice her manual dexterity, and clothing. There's still so much more… and Brad isn't helping.
With a disagreeable grunt, the young woman tears a large chunk of the paper away to reveal an iPad. Her eyes light up at the box and she looks over at the television host as though uncertain if it's a joke and there's a diaper or something inside the box or if it's really really real. Slowly, her hands move to wipe away the rest of the paper and she just stares down at it.
Best. Christmas. Ever.
Save for the lack of parents and sister.
The accident had left the host banged up worse than his boss would've liked. The headache he's been nursing for three days continues to surge through his head, try as Brad might to curb it. His face is bruised, and he'd had stitches along his hands where the windshield had caved in on him. A few stray scratches grace his formerly boyish face while his dimpled grin deepens as she pulls the paper from this particular gift.
"Look Carrots, I realize this isn't like… easy for you, but I'm going to try to make it as easy as possible. Hence the iPad. Books! Games! Anything a gal could want while recovering from … anything." His eyebrows quirk as he nods firmly. "And the thing plays music! And it reminds me of something they used to have on Star Trek which gives it bonus points because growing up Deanna Troi was soooo— " his cheeks flush a little while his head shakes. Too much information, right?
"I know that you don't really know me and I don't really know you, but… " he cringes a little, well aware there's little sentiment she can express in return. "I think you should stay here. For as long as it takes. Or longer." His lips twitch, "I have an extra room— " Delia's living in it "— this is a huge place for just me and it needs to be like… lived in…"
Thanks to crawling through his head a couple of times, Delia knows him better than he thinks. Still, her cheeks flush along with his when he starts talking about the Betazoid with the naked mom. Averting her eyes a little bit, she coughs once, wincing as her injuries give her a wave of pain. She hasn't complained about them though, nothing more than a wince here or there when she's jostled a little too much.
Opening her mouth a little as if to say something, she holds up the box to him to open. Her fingers just aren't compliant enough to deal with strips of security tape. She bites down on her lip and lets out a small hum before letting it go. "Iii.. ll- .. llll— " Her eyebrows furrow together frustratedly and her lips purse and downturn. Her eyes water a little from embarrassment at her situation and she looks away from her brother, blinking rapidly to keep from crying. Finally, she swallows hard and turns back to him, giving him a quick, yet jerky, nod of her head.
"Hey, hey, hey," Russo virtually whispers as he reaches over to squeeze her hand, following which his pale blue eyes seek out her nearly identical ones. "Carrots," his head shakes slightly as he edges the bed very carefully so as not to jostle her unnecessarily, "You're okay. You're back. It'll take awhile for you to feel wholly like yourself but— " he winks, trying to add a little merriment to the situation.
He releases her hand and goes to work at the tape, peeling it back to open the box. Moments later he hands her back her new gadget to inspect, "I think I'll have to plug it in or something to charge. And then it'll need to hook up to my laptop— to like… put songs on. And I'm glad you like it. I seriously spent a long time thinking on it." His eyebrows escalate for a moment while he shoots her another grin.
His lips twitch to the side only to crack into an easier smile this time, "Now, you're in luck because I make the best food pretty much… ever in like the history of food. I'm not even kidding. So. I will make you delicious meals three times a day, spoil you rotten, and… I've been thinking of hiring an assistant to hang around here when I'm not. Don't worry, I'll screen him or her well enough that you won't have to worry about them. Although it would be helpful if they could dress me." His chin drops as he examines his button up blue shirt and faded jeans, "What do you think? Need help dressing myself in the morning?"
Looking down at herself, Delia raises her eyebrows and then looks back up at Russo. While normally she wouldn't even be able to squeeze into their sizes, her little jaunt has shrunk her enough that she's able to fit into some of his producer's and fiance's hand me downs. They were in a little bit of a pinch. Her outfit is a jumble of old yoga clothing, at the moment. Before it was more of the same. "Nnnuhh— uhh," and a very liberal shake of the head to go with it.
Once the iPad is opened, she reaches for it again, smoothing her hands over the plastic on the screen. Flitting her eyes to give her brother something of a devious look, she purses her lips and presses the power button. There's a happy huff of a breath when the device springs to life and she starts poking at the screen. Finding the notepad, she immediately starts using it to say everything she can't.
tyhnnx brrro
A little flippantly, Russo waves a hand. "Forget about it," he winks again as he stretches. "You're gonna through this one and you'll be that much better for it. And I mean seriously, look at these awesome toys— " Brad had consulted with a nurse as to what Delia would need to reinstate her fine motor skills, and it had been years since he'd really gotten anyone to spoil at Christmas time.
He rubs his hands together expectantly, "Man I have so much to tell you…" He pauses as his eyes narrow slightly, "Nicole. You met her, right?" His jaw tightens a little, "She's my fiance. She may be over here quite a bit, but if at any time you're uncomfortable with her here… she doesn't need to be, okay?"
His fingers run over the side of her bed, "There's also this small issue with people breaking into my home. Don't worry, I'm having the problem looked into; hiring a private security company and I spoke to Rosa— she's the cleaning lady— about it… but I just wanted you to have a head's up."
There's another pause as he clears his throat and fights against a small measure of bitterness that gets caught within it, "So… our father like knows about me. Kinda weird. Kinda… whatever."
Looking over at the toys, Delia gives a jerky but solemn nod, she remembers all of them from her time at the hospital. Again, Russo receives a smile of gratitude. They're slow to form, but genuine. The man does wonders for working the muscles in her thin face. Laboriously, she slides her fingers over the keypad, attempting to type out another message.
ok jjaiiidnn 2,?
Her eyebrows shoot up to her brother, perhaps asking a tit for tat barter on the notion of visiting significant others. Blue eyes widen to the size of saucers at the mention of break ins, and she paws a little more insistently at her message. The extra letters don't do much except add a keymash to the end of her question. A small sound comes from her throat in the form of a squeaky whine, unfortunate as it may be.
The bombshell about their father though… The redhead's face falls and she lowers her head, trying to hide her trembling chin. The expensive gift, thankfully wrapped in plastic is the recipient of a few splashing teardrops on the coated surface. "daa..ddee" Perhaps the person she missed the most of all in her absence.
"Ooooh. Uh.. he can come over. But no nights… I mean, Gidget won't stay the night. It's just… not proper. Until people are married. So… yeah," his gaze ticks downward to avoid any eye contact. Brad manages a lopsided grin as he rubs the back of his neck somewhat absently, and perhaps, even a little awkwardly. "I'm as chaste as they come…" these days, anyways.
He frowns, however, at the tears, instinctively reaching forward for her hand. "Carrots… come on… he's okay— I think he's okay. Everything is fine, you'll see him in time, I'm sure of it. Just keep your chin up, kid. You're gonna be okay. You'll see him. Just probably not here." Although it's not wholly out of the question. There are some issues, however, the host won't press or stipulate.
He reaches to the bedside table and grasps a couple of kleenexes which are held out to her. "I promise everything is going to be okay now, alright?"
A clumsy hand grasps for the kleenex and in an attempt to wipe her face, Delia hits herself in the cheek when her hand jerks a little too far. At least she didn't poke out her eye. Sniffling, she rubs her face against her sleeve rather than attempt to use the tissue again. "Daaaad.." she manages again, then using her free hand she shakes adds onto the mix of letters, not bothering to clear them away.
plz need2 no hes ok
Not let him know she's okay. She just wants to know about him. The large number of others that she'd like to ask permission for are mentally filed away for later. She'll have plenty of time but for now, those two will suffice, maybe. A quick breath inward and she types out one more name, one that has grown into a reluctant fixture in her mind.
nik 2?
Russo nods slightly. He gets it, particularly as he begins to slide off the edge of the bed, making a choice in the matter, especially regarding the first request. "I'll see what I can do or find out. And Nick is welcome. He— he's not so bad all things considered," high praise from a man prone to distrust.
There's a heavy sigh when his feet touch the ground. "We need to get to work on other things too. Like a fake ID for you. If you're staying here we need to rewrite you a little. Enough. Just enough to get by. And not draw unwanted attention. That's how I thrive, you know? I fly below the radar. All of the time."
Long nods of her head and the pleased expression on her face are enough of an indicator that the young woman is agreeable to just about anything. Especially after the television star's gracious consent and gifts. Taking in a large breath and heaving it out in a pleased sigh, she slides the iPad off her lap in favor of grabbing one of the books. It's a child's book, with durable cardboard pages and colorful pictures. Her mind might not be addled but her hands just aren't ready for fragile things.
Maybe there's a copy of Mean Heat in the iStore that she can get later. Won't that look hilarious on Russo's credit card bill.
Pulling the first page up, she mouths the words on the page, trying to quietly sound out the words. Pat the Bunny, there's even little textures she can run her finger over to see what they're like. As a bonus, it smells like baby powder.
With a tiny frown Russo watches her, only to have the smile change to a faint curl of her lips with a small shake of his head. He slides back to the bed, taking care not to jostle her around too much, fully aware of her fragile state. "Hey~" he nearly sings. "Let me." He reaches for the book, "And for the record this is scintillating stuff. I'm already on the edge of my seat what's going to happen to Pat."
He turns the page of the book and begins to read, not that Delia can't read it, but, sometimes any measure of bonding is better than none.