shelley_winters | (no subject)

(no subject)

It was hard to concentrate, once she got to work - and she'd only got there on time by getting ready mechanically; teeth, shower, clothes, breakfast - and she didn't even have much in her inbox to look at. One set of figures didn't seem to make sense for almost twenty minutes before she noticed she'd misread the email they came with, and bit her lip hard enough to hurt before changing them.

And about an hour and a half later, Mr. Mayor came in, and blinked at her presence.

And said, wasn't today her day off...?

So before it it's even lunchtime, Shelley sits on the couch with a slowly cooling cup of tea, looking distantly into space.

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"You don't have to do it."

He could stay here, explore the town. Just read the books instead of shelving them.

Elan nodded calmly, his voice uneasy as he commented. He has doing lots of reading, but there is only so much leisure a man can take before he must work.

"I do not have to do so, but... I need to do something."

Shelley bites her lip bitterly. To do something. She feels there should be an icy retort here about what his abductions denied her, but she can't.

There's nothing there when she tries to find anger, only hurt.

"Oh."

Glancing over, he inquired of her softly. There were any number of things that they were not speaking of, but sometimes giving them voice was useful.

"Is something the matter?"

Shelley puts her mug down.

"Yes. I'm scared, and confused, and I don't like you, and it's not going away."

She had spoken quickly, in order not to stop herself, and wishes she hadn't as soon as she finishes. The girl laces her fingers together hard, and stares at them.

He blinked in surprise.

That was a rigorous honesty from her.

Sipping on his tea long after he would otherwise have stopped, Elan stalled to give himself time to think.

"There is nothing wrong with feeling a certain way."

Shelley laughs in a way that shouldn't properly even be called laughter, she thinks, if there's nothing happy in it.

"It certainly feels wrong!"

Setting his tea down, he frowned slightly and explained calmly. He was gaining ground here.

"But it is not wrong. People feel about other people what they do, and that is simply the way it is. There is nothing wrong with it."

"Not that," she says unhappily.

"Everything. I'm not- I mean, you're here, but y-you're not... I mean."

She takes a deep breath, and sighs quietly.

"It should be getting better."

Elan put his hand over hers gently. His voice was soft and quiet.

"Things will get better, but... You should not fight things. Sometimes, one has to swim with the current to avoid drowning."

"And if the current is flowing to... somewhere I don't want to be?" Shelley asks, losing track of the metaphor.

Her hands curl tighter under his.

Sometimes, one did not have a choice at all. With a distant look, he spoke quietly.

"My current gives me no option, even if I swim with it, I will drown... There is no escape. I will die. I have never heard of anyone with even half my power living more than a year or so. Some live longer, but... not many at all."

Shelley pulls her hands away.

"We've discussed that," she says sharply.

He took a long sip of his tea, a troubled look on his face.

"Thank you."

She frowns, and crosses her arms.

"For what? Telling you something perfectly logical?"

She cheered him up. That was all there was to it. She made him feel better, even if they were fighting. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek chastely.

"For being you."

Taking her cold glass of tea, and his own, he rose from his seat and began to walk towards the kitchen.

"I hate you!" she calls after his retreating figure, and curls her legs up angrily.

Stupid... evil person.

And for all he knows, she might have wanted to drink that tea!

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