(no subject)

[shelley_winters]

Oh, the joy of triplicated forms.

Shelley kicks her heels against the legs of her chair as she finishes off the reports through a haze of boredom. Has to be done. The smell of cooking soup fills the room. Should be ready just as soon as she finishes. Very good timing there.

Her tea is almost cold, but she sips at the rest absently as she finishes the last filling-in of boxes. A quiet, relieved sigh, and she gets up, calling to the figure sprawled on the couch nearby as she goes.

"Dinner's ready, come on."

She busies herself with bowls and cutlery, not looking to see if he follows. It's easier not to look right at him, and at the moment, Shelley takes anything to get her through each day.

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[shelley_winters]

Shelley drinks her tea, and tries to read a book opposite him.

His ever-present sighing assures that it remains 'trying' as when she is continually aware of his presence, it is incredibly difficult to concentrate. But she will not let him chase her upstairs in her own house.

"Go to bed if you're so tired," she says, after what feels like the fiftieth restless sound from the couch.

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

That was a sound plan, it seemed, and he did not particularly feel up to arguing with her. With another sigh, Elan marked his place in his book.

"I may do just that."

With little ceremony, he rose from the couch and shuffled upstairs with a murmured comment about having a good evening. He ought to feel better in the morning.