Real Friends


elisabeth_icon.gif graeme_icon.gif

Scene Title Real Friends
Synopsis When did Liz turn into everyone's den mother?
Date March 5, 2011

The Nite Owl

Graeme leans back in his seat, looking across the table to Liz. For all his usual protests of 'not tired', it's clear enough that Graeme is, even if he is far less affected by mainly sleepless nights than not. There's a smile offered to the woman across the table from him. "So, I heard from my sister, the other day," he says. "Ran into her outside a bookstore and a pet store."

"Really," Elisabeth replies drily around her coffee. Her blue eyes on him are sharp, though. And worried. His sister has occupied her thoughts a good deal lately. "And?"

"And," Graeme says, palms resting flat on the table as if that's a way to keep his hands from clenching into white knuckled fists, "she pretty much told me that it's her problems to worry about, not mine." He sighs. "Went on the defensive immediately, but Cardinal might actually be right … she says she cares."

Palms flat on the table isn't enough, really, and one hand clenches into a fist, then relaxes, a moment later, as Graeme swallows, a strangled and pushed back sound of frustration. "I want to believe her."

Elisabeth isn't in the business of trusting very many people anymore. Assuredly not people who work with the same group of assholes who blew her brains out. "I understand that," she says. "Richard's is giving her space as well." Though she's betting he's having her watched. He'd be a fool not to.

Graeme nods, wrapping his hands around the glass of soda, a moment, and eventually he shrugs. The strangled sound is pushed away, swallowed back, followed shortly by some of the Sprite. "And apparently, my roommate's method of dealing with me being moody," he says, "is to try and set me up with hot guys."

There's a smirk at that. She already knows. "So you think Aric's hot, huh? Glad to hear it," Elisabeth chuckles. "He was doing the 'ohgod does he like me' dance last night."

In response, Graeme flushes red. Bright, bright red, as he looks down at the table for the longer part of a moment, attempting to compose himself rather than giggle or something equally silly. But he nods. "Hot, intelligent, and …" Graeme grins a little. "Not that I mind Remi's attempts to set me up, really," he admits. "But it's awkward. I think I spent half the time after she left with my chair as close to the table as I could uh, manage." There's no composure left. Graeme is just bright red.

Shaking her head, Elisabeth snickers. "Christ…. " When did she turn into everyone's den mother? The thought brings a pang of hurt that she shoves deeper. Later. There will be time to deal with the festering anger later. Right now is for what's in front of her. "I think that's probably more information than I needed. But suffice to say I think the two of you are in the same boat. He's worried about the fact that he's suffering a little post-traumatic stress, so… you may have to be a little careful with him. He's keeping a real low profile right now because people are looking for him."

Graeme nods. "He's nice," Graeme muses, rubbing his face with one hand. Which slightly helps with him not turning bright red. Graeme is thoughtful, and thankfully for Liz, all of those thoughts are kept silent. "I had fun, while I was talking to him." Honest-to-god fun, with less worry about New Mexico, or anything like that. A faint smile plays on Graeme's face.

"Well, good. Because that's exactly what he said about you," Elisabeth says. "So…. start there and just… have some fun together. God knows you could both use it." She smirks. "And tell Remi that I can't keep it. I'll return the keys to her when I have a chance." She sips her coffee. "She bought me a motorcycle," she informs him.

This last part gets Graeme to raise his eyebrows, before once more rubbing his forehead with his hands. "She did what?" As if Graeme doesn't quite believe what he's hearing.

Elisabeth sagenods a bit. "Yeah. That. I was…. trying to decide if she just wasn't taking 'no, dear, I'm hetero' for an answer, or … if she's just that generous."

Graeme looks up, thinking. "That's Remi alright," he says. Which doesn't particularly lend any insight to what Liz is trying to figure out. "She's stubborn, though, but … she is that generous. And she doesn't quite realise that those sort of things are more than just a normal gift for most've us."

"Well… we'll have to see how that plays out," Elisabeth says with a faint smile. "I should get back. Now that you know your 'ohmygod does he like me' is returned… well, go forth and make a good friend." She reaches out and grips his arm in a gentle squeeze as her way of saying goodbye. "Even if the two of you are nothing else, I think you both could use a real friend."

"I'll see you at dinner in a few days, then?" Graeme flushes ever so slightly red again, and sets his hand on hers to keep her from leaving for just a moment. "And yeah, I think you might be right." She is so often, anyway.

There's a pause. "Some time next week, if you've got time?" He pauses, having forgotten all about that he'd meant to bring this up. "I've got a student, approached me for … help, on Thursday. But she was pretty recalcitrant, from what I've seen, and … I think she might trust a woman more."

Tilting her head, Elisabeth looks thoughtful as she stands. "A student? What kind of student?" She shields them from prying eyes. "And what kind of help does she need?" A brief second. "No… you know what? Let her tell me. Set up the meet. Send me the time. I'll make time." Her kids are why she got into this.

"Thanks," Graeme murmurs, quietly. "I'll see you around, then." He leans back a bit, considering everything, before deciding that he's going to get more food, and stop trying to put together anything remotely resembling a big picture.

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