Nice to Feel Needed


graeme2_icon.gif savannah_icon.gif

Scene Title Nice to Feel Needed
Synopsis Graeme learns that it's okay to ask for help with things.
Date March 28, 2011

Dorchester Towers: Remi & Graeme's Apartment

There's a grateful smile for Savannah as Graeme slips the key into the handle-lock of the door to the apartment, the deadbolt already undone, and opens the door, with a vague one-handed gesture for her to go in first. His right arm and shoulder is still very firmly immobilised, and unlike usual, Graeme looks rather weary, tired, lines on his face that rarely show.

"Thanks for meeting me," he says, quietly. The words are hesitant, deliberate, and though the man is rarely verbose, this is truly far off from the norm. The first call had come before he left Ygraine's apartment, to ask her if she would, and the second call when he actually got to the building, asking if Savannah could maybe come over for an hour or two while he got some things he'd needed, and the warning that he's currently a lot out of it. The door closes behind him, and habit locks the deadbolt afterwards. "I 'preciate it."

"No need to thank me, it's nice to feel needed. I'm glad I could keep you company," Savannah takes a moment to look him over carefully. "You seem a little off. Anything I can help you with?" She questions. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too."

There's a hesitant chuckle. "I feel a lot off," Graeme says, almost joking about the matter, though not quite, "so at least there's that." He leads to the living room, gesturing for her to sit down on the couch. His own movements are also less easy than the usual, and words are still deliberate, threaded together like they're all too unwieldy. "I sort of, I ripped most of the stitches from my shoulder, got a little too enthusi— enthusiastic about some stuff." Talking is interrupted by his cheeks turning faintly red. "Got put on negation drugs to see if I can manage to not make things worse. It's a minor version of hell, if I got a choice in the matter, but well, most of my friends would look at me very sternly until I wilted if I tried to argue."

Savannah winces. "I can imagine that would be hard. The pain, the negation… it'd take some getting used to. And it's a good idea not to get, ah, enthusiastic with an injury." She notes the blush with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Either way, I can imagine you might need a bit of help. Are you doing okay? Well, aside from the obvious. I suppose the better question would be—are you holding up well?"

Graeme perches on the side of the couch, carefully. "I think so," he says. "I don't know, really. I'm don't know what holding up okay feels like overall, what anything's supposed to feel like, because. I'm used to dealing with anything and it all by way of my ability. I wasn't trying to be, but well, didn't really feel I'd ripped the stitches for a fair while." Hence, the negation drugs. The blush subsides, though slowly. Graeme's gaze focuses on the high ceiling of the living room, briefly. "Only until Saturday left, for this. But it sucks. I wanted to crawl out of myself at first."

"You have to feel everything again… and that's hard. It's understandable." Savannah suggests, sighing as she moves to the couch. "You just need to learn… you need to learn that it's hard and hurts when you are injured. You have to sleep and you have to keep your energy together. You take it easy." She looks at him, offering a fond smile. "You'll get through it. It'll give you a valuable lesson as to what the rest of us have to suffer through."

Graeme grins, weakly. "Yeah. And learn a lot, and I manifested fifteen years ago," he says, almost petulant. "And I don't like the person I was before that too much. I really don't." He chews on his lower lip, and then suddenly winces. It's a little habit, but negated, it hurts, something Graeme hadn't quite managed to realise, before.

Savannah laughs. "Yeah, that's a long time… I can imagine how weak you must feel. Just be careful. It'll make you more aware of what you're doing… you just need to take things in stride. Just because you are as you were physically when you did not have this ability… it doesn't mean you are the same person." She reaches over to pat his leg gently.

"Thanks," Graeme murmurs, looking down at his lap slightly. "I sure as—" and he pauses, working through not so much managing even one sentence if he doesn't try to, "sure as hell hope so." There's another weak smile, and then Graeme thinks aloud, scattered as it comes out. "It half feels like I can't even think straight, though it's doable when I try. I came to get some stuff, so I can stay with a friend for the rest of the week, but what I need, what do I need. Need to make sure there's nothing in the kitchen that could spoil, need another two sets of clothes, need the spare key to the safe that's kept here and then what."

"Relax… I can understand trying to get things together. Clearly you're a bit worked up over all this. Having someone help you is a good idea… I'm glad you're staying with someone. Just take things one step at a time. Sit down and rest if you need to," Savannah suggests, looking at him worriedly.

Graeme nods, sitting a little further back on the couch, with an awkward attempt and succeeding at putting a pillow behind him, because the couch is plush, and deep, and possibly less supportive than he ought to be sitting on at the moment."Yeah," he acknowledges, forcing himself to take what begins as a deep breath and ends up at least slightly slowing down his breathing, working on attaining some degree of calm, and then there's a smile, weary, tired, but a genuine smile of thanks nonetheless.

"If you want me to, I can help you get things ready." The blonde smiles genuinely, squeezing his leg lightly before retracting her hand. "There's no rush, okay? You've got time. Plenty of time, okay. How are you holding up, other than the physical? You keeping your mind occupied or are you letting it run loose on its own?"

There's a nod of acknowledgment from Graeme, and slowly but surely it occurs to him that she's right. "Yeah," he says. "I've been reading. Trying to, when I can concentrate, otherwise listening to music and slowly working through simple housework my friend has me doing, and sleeping a lot. It's good, so far." The author gets a grin.

"Good! That's good," Savannah says, encouragingly. "Sorry, I sound like I'm a therapist or something. I just… I don't get to really help a lot of people, so you even listening to me is kind of a big deal to me."

There's a very slight chuckle. "I'm glad you're here, really," Graeme says. "I haven't dealt with most of my own issues, in fifteen years. It's… it's made easier by friends. Because otherwise, right now, I just don't even know where to start. I have… no experi— experience," four syllable words seem to be the point that's still giving him some trouble, the mental weirdness from the negation pills there, "at normal."

"Well, I dunno that anyone of us in this world really know what 'normal' is. I don't think a real normal exists. Less unique, maybe, but… even still. Welcome to where the rest of us are, without an ability. You don't need to start anywhere, you just keep yourself calm and you live minute by minute," Savannah tries to explain as best as she can.

Graeme nods. "Dunno how most people do it," he says, quietly. With more calm, the words are coming more easily. And then there's a shrug, though his right shoulder barely moves, followed by a wince and hiss of cursing. "Fucking hell, um sorry. Hurts," Graeme says.

"Life's not easy, Graeme. Kinda makes you feel more human now, huh?" Savannah winces as she says the words. "Well, not literal. I mean… it makes you feel vulnerable. You're less protected than you were before."

"Something like that," Graeme agrees, with a half a smile for Savannah. Regularly, he might even act mock-offended, but right now, the man is too tired to truly bother doing so. "It does, and I have to say I don't like it. I'm going to be glad when this is over. If I can manage to not end up being too busy admiring Aric's ass to remember my shoulder's injured, again." Ooops. There's a moment of pause and Graeme looks down at his lap, as if he can't quite believe he just said that, and a sheepish, embarrassed smile plays across his face. "Uh, um." So that was what he was doing when he was being enthusiastic.

"God, I know how that can be. You should come meet Kam sometime, though I have to preface that with saying 'He's mine' already, just so you don't drool too much," Savannah offers him a sly wink. "I would have done the same thing if I were in your shoes, I will admit. You just have to remember, in general, that you have to take it easy. I'm sure it's a bit of a foreign concept for you."

Graeme flushes slightly even more red, and chuckles quietly. "Yeah, juuust a bit. I've had to reassure Aric it's not his fault, too." There's even an attempt at humour. It's not anywhere near to his usual, but at the very least it's a sign of lifted spirits. "So, I suppose we maybe start with making sure there's nothing that could go bad in the fridge?" He gestures to the kitchen area, behind and across from the living room. "Thanks 'gain for helping." Then he wrinkles his nose a little. "Aside from the last time you came over, I haven' been home more than one night since the gala." There's a pause. "Just fair warning."

"Poor Aric must have felt pretty guilty," Savannah actually giggles. "No worries. We'll just toss anything that's already bad. I'm no stranger to stinky cheese and bad milk. I used to do that kind of thing all the time when I lived in California. Plus there's the fact that it's a little hard to do that now that I've got a boyfriend who cooks… so it'll be getting back to my roots."

"There're ways to keep him from feeling guilty too long," Graeme says, with half a smile as he rises to his feet. "Though well, after. The drugs they've got me on right now, I'm not up for aaaanything li— like that." He tilts his head to one side. "I think it might be worse than that. If I hadn't remem— remembered, about it, the fridge mighta just gotten up and walked off." There's a weak grin, but less wavering than the earlier ones. "S'pose let's get to it."

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