[ He hears it for the out that it is – a door propped open, allowing him a graceful exit. Classy, he thinks. Far better than him trying to stumble his way into an escape, like he had attempted last night.
And he could easily take it, offer to lend a hand in its repair to help speed things up and smooth things over. He probably should take it, in fact, to keep them from edging up toward this dangerous ledge. Keep them from diving too deeply into some strange unknown, because Faraday hardly knows if he can handle this. Maybe Emma can, with all that steel plating her bones, but Faraday is a different story entirely.
But that selfish part of him shrugs its shoulders, thinks about the short term feeling of satisfaction, tells him that the consequences are surely such a long way off. Why not enjoy this while it lasts, and deal with the aftermath when it comes, ages and ages down the line?
That selfish voice is so damn loud most days, and it’s why Faraday shakes his head. ]
No need. Pretty sure a drafty window is about the least of your worries, these days.
[ Accepting her offer, then, though without so many words. ]
[ emma's momentarily taken aback by his response, because she takes it just as much as an acceptance of her oblique offer, and...she likes that. it stirs a small, curl of warmth in her chest that she tries to ignore, to push aside for later.
much later. ]
Then I suppose I'll be seein' to it eventually instead.
[ and there's a small tug at the corner of her lips, just bordering on a smile. ]
Damnedest thing, actually. Woke up this mornin’ feelin’ like my arm got trampled.
[ A teasing sort of smile, before he lets out a breath, shaking his head.
As she can probably tell, it’ll be ages before Faraday lets her live that down. It’s been an eventful morning, and an eventful evening before that, and Faraday thinks the both of them could do with a small laugh. ]
Seems to have passed, though, thank my lucky stars.
[ it— actually does make emma laugh. small and soft, but it's definitely a laugh. ]
Imagine that. Perhaps you've been tanglin' with horses in your sleep. Would explain the trampling.
[ it's a much needed reprieve from the tension of the night before, from the uncertain steps they've been trying to tip-toe around each other. it's more progress than they've made since he came to her home, since that night under the stars, and it's...at least something. slow and tentative, but something all the same. ]
Horses, surely. [ This, said with a light shrug. ] Couldn't imagine it being anything else.
Unless there was a half-dreamin' woman, flailin' her limbs about every which way, but that seems highly unlikely, don't it?
[ He smiles, gives his right arm one last stretch, before deciding that it feels far better than it has in ages. The soreness will return soon enough, he knows; a slow tide that'll draw in as the day goes on, but he'll deal with it when it gets there. ]
I'll make do. [ A more earnest response to her original question. ] See how the day treats me.
[ but she nods softly, appreciating the honesty (well, of a fashion), and she just shifts again, tucking her hair behind her ear as she considers faraday. ]
Let me know if you're needing anything?
[ for the pain, is what she mostly means. even if it's something as small as a brief bit of contact, she knows what it can do for his injuries and the leftover ache. she's still working on adjusting to the idea of touching faraday, but...it's so pleasant that it's difficult for her to simply write it off — like the rest of this mess, if she's honest. ]
Which isn't me coddlin' you.
[ she adds, though without any of the sting behind her words that there might have been months ago. ]
There just seems to be a kind of boon to this— thing as far as helping ease your discomfort.
[ A reassurance, where yesterday it was shaped as the start of an argument. Difficult to get angry, anyway, with that feeling of contentment flowing through him, sanding down the rough edges. His smile takes on a confident edge. ]
I've lived through worse than a few stiff limbs.
[ He reaches over, rests his hand over hers, where she still presses her fingers to his skin. His expression softens a little, some of that cocksure attitude slipping away. ]
[ for some reason, it still catches her by surprise when faraday reaches out to her like that, when his hand settles over her own, even more of that warmth and completion winding through her. there's a quiet part of her that feels the smallest twinge of guilt by how she naturally reacts to faraday and this contact, because...well, as much as she'd loved matthew, there had never been this kind of physical or psychic connection that just drew such immediate and genuine comfort to her. she has no control over it, of course, but it's startling all the same to feel something so significant for a man who most certainly isn't her late husband.
but even with that quiet reluctance, she still enjoys the way all of this feels.
tentatively, she turns her hand under faraday's, giving his fingers a soft squeeze in return. ]
Happy to offer.
[ she lets the touch linger, momentarily loath to pull away (even if they ought to be starting their day; can't just lounge about when there's work to be done). ]
How about breakfast instead? You must be mighty hungry after skippin' dinner last night.
[ And there it is again, that flash of sincerity, so stark and unfamiliar that it could only be from Emma. (Lord knows such a thing could only come from Faraday if hell froze over and pigs found means to fly.)
Frightening, to be offered this kindness, not knowing what's expected of him. Easier when these things had some sort of give and take baked in – but what can Faraday offer, anyway, other than a few off-color jokes and a handful of tricks, hampered by the toll taken on his right arm?
It's Faraday who pulls away first, slow and reluctant, and their connection slowly closes over to a single, buzzing thread. He rings with the loss, momentarily dazed, but he shakes himself and presses on. ]
[ emma is an unassuming woman, and has also never been the type to expect something in return for whatever kindness or generosity she may extend. that continues to be true with faraday: she doesn't expect him to repay her for giving him a place to recover, for helping to care for him when he's needed it. she especially has no expectations for this bond they've been thrown into. she doesn't want him to feel obligated to her, because she doesn't view the mark as a commodity or a commitment that is due her; it simply is, and it's a situation they'll have to suss out together (or, she supposes, individually, if that's the route one of them chooses to take), to just try to find a balance.
if either of them decides this isn't something they want, she thinks they should be able to walk away — that they aren't owed anything just by nature of the mark existing. however, she's also decided that, on her end, she won't be rejecting faraday without first genuinely trying (even if all that means is spending time with him to determine whether or not they can even tolerate each other for extended periods of time).
but until then, emma is and will continue to be kind. he may get on her nerves, may rile her up just the same, but there's a part of her that curls around a flicker of fondness, of that desire to be near him.
she's nearly startled when he finally pulls away, breaking that connection, and as much as she's sorry to see it go, she knows they need to get up. ]
Then I hope I won't be hearin' any complaints over bacon and eggs.
[ her lips lift in a small smile, but then she's finally scooting away, climbing out of the bed to find the light robe from the night before. she'll get dressed properly after faraday's left the bedroom, because, really, she won't be changing in front of him. ]
Her touched had sapped away most of the aches of the previous day, and while any lingering stiffness had faded, standing still proves something of a daunting prospect. Faraday swings his legs around, a hand kneading the injured muscle of his thigh, before he slowly pushes himself to his feet, resting one hand on the nightstand for balance. It takes a second or two before he trusts his leg to take his weight, and he stands fully, carefully stretching his limbs.
There's still a limp in his step, though it's not nearly as bad as yesterday, and he pauses in the doorway as he leaves. ]
Let me know if there's anything I can help with. Not that I expect I'll be much help as far as a pan goes, but...
[ emma is a bit surprised by the offer, but she appreciates it nonetheless. she directs that soft smile his way, before turning to her dresser to pull out something to wear for the day. ]
I think I can manage up the cooking on my own. But I may take you up on gettin' a hand with the dishes.
[ if his arm isn't too sore or he can handle standing on his leg at the sink. ]
[ But it's a good-natured sort of grouse as he turns back toward his room. Washing a few plates is about the least he can offer, he supposes, after all the trouble he caused. (They ought to talk about what happened, he knows; he ought to make apologies for the way he spoke to her, for the way he tried so damn hard to fling her kindness back in her face.
But hell if Faraday will be the one to bring it up first.)
And it's a little difficult, at any rate, to be too upset at the sight of that soft smile of hers, at the little curl of warmth that flares in his chest.
Faraday quickly ducks his head, hand resting on the doorknob of her door. ]
[ she sets her clothes on the bed, glancing up once more at faraday. it's a little odd, she thinks, to see him leaving her bedroom, a surreal reminder that he'd spent the night in her bed, and it brings to mind the evening before.
she hesitates, opening her mouth to speak. part of her is trying to debate whether or not to mention yesterday, because they had agreed to discuss it, and that might even be a proper opportunity to suss out just a touch of what they're doing together, but... ]
Faraday—
[ but then she seems to reconsider it, shaking her head, and looks back to her clothing instead. ]
[ He glances up briefly, hears that touch of weight in her voice, and he steels himself. Feels, for a strange sort of second, like he's a child being scolded for his poor marks.
But she seems to let it go, and he relaxes, offers a relieved sort of smile and a lazy little salute as he turns. ]
As you like.
[ The clicks shut behind him, and he lets out a long breath, letting the tension drain from his frame.
Bullet dodged, he thinks to himself, and limps his way into his own room. ]
[ of course, faraday shouldn't feel too relieved for long, because this is something emma does want to discuss, but she also doesn't want to risk poking the sleeping bear of their argument. they have things to talk out, but with a tenuously established peace, she'd mostly like to keep it that way.
it's why she gets dressed, and just settles into the kitchen to see to their breakfast, instead of trying to find a way to bring things up immediately.
the smell of bacon fills her small home, and as she puts together the food, she finds herself...smiling. small, but soft and warm, genuine, even if it's at nothing in particular. it's comforting to have someone to cook for, comforting to have someone there, as opposed to the emptiness that had settled in after matthew's death. it's something she's appreciated about faraday staying with her while he mends, but she's also found that she's come to like that it's faraday — that it actually matters who is in her house with her.
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no subject
And he could easily take it, offer to lend a hand in its repair to help speed things up and smooth things over. He probably should take it, in fact, to keep them from edging up toward this dangerous ledge. Keep them from diving too deeply into some strange unknown, because Faraday hardly knows if he can handle this. Maybe Emma can, with all that steel plating her bones, but Faraday is a different story entirely.
But that selfish part of him shrugs its shoulders, thinks about the short term feeling of satisfaction, tells him that the consequences are surely such a long way off. Why not enjoy this while it lasts, and deal with the aftermath when it comes, ages and ages down the line?
That selfish voice is so damn loud most days, and it’s why Faraday shakes his head. ]
No need. Pretty sure a drafty window is about the least of your worries, these days.
[ Accepting her offer, then, though without so many words. ]
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much later. ]
Then I suppose I'll be seein' to it eventually instead.
[ and there's a small tug at the corner of her lips, just bordering on a smile. ]
Is your pain any better today?
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[ A teasing sort of smile, before he lets out a breath, shaking his head.
As she can probably tell, it’ll be ages before Faraday lets her live that down. It’s been an eventful morning, and an eventful evening before that, and Faraday thinks the both of them could do with a small laugh. ]
Seems to have passed, though, thank my lucky stars.
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Imagine that. Perhaps you've been tanglin' with horses in your sleep. Would explain the trampling.
[ it's a much needed reprieve from the tension of the night before, from the uncertain steps they've been trying to tip-toe around each other. it's more progress than they've made since he came to her home, since that night under the stars, and it's...at least something. slow and tentative, but something all the same. ]
I haven't the faintest what else might've done.
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Unless there was a half-dreamin' woman, flailin' her limbs about every which way, but that seems highly unlikely, don't it?
[ He smiles, gives his right arm one last stretch, before deciding that it feels far better than it has in ages. The soreness will return soon enough, he knows; a slow tide that'll draw in as the day goes on, but he'll deal with it when it gets there. ]
I'll make do. [ A more earnest response to her original question. ] See how the day treats me.
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[ but she nods softly, appreciating the honesty (well, of a fashion), and she just shifts again, tucking her hair behind her ear as she considers faraday. ]
Let me know if you're needing anything?
[ for the pain, is what she mostly means. even if it's something as small as a brief bit of contact, she knows what it can do for his injuries and the leftover ache. she's still working on adjusting to the idea of touching faraday, but...it's so pleasant that it's difficult for her to simply write it off — like the rest of this mess, if she's honest. ]
Which isn't me coddlin' you.
[ she adds, though without any of the sting behind her words that there might have been months ago. ]
There just seems to be a kind of boon to this— thing as far as helping ease your discomfort.
no subject
[ A reassurance, where yesterday it was shaped as the start of an argument. Difficult to get angry, anyway, with that feeling of contentment flowing through him, sanding down the rough edges. His smile takes on a confident edge. ]
I've lived through worse than a few stiff limbs.
[ He reaches over, rests his hand over hers, where she still presses her fingers to his skin. His expression softens a little, some of that cocksure attitude slipping away. ]
... But I appreciate the offer.
no subject
but even with that quiet reluctance, she still enjoys the way all of this feels.
tentatively, she turns her hand under faraday's, giving his fingers a soft squeeze in return. ]
Happy to offer.
[ she lets the touch linger, momentarily loath to pull away (even if they ought to be starting their day; can't just lounge about when there's work to be done). ]
How about breakfast instead? You must be mighty hungry after skippin' dinner last night.
no subject
Frightening, to be offered this kindness, not knowing what's expected of him. Easier when these things had some sort of give and take baked in – but what can Faraday offer, anyway, other than a few off-color jokes and a handful of tricks, hampered by the toll taken on his right arm?
It's Faraday who pulls away first, slow and reluctant, and their connection slowly closes over to a single, buzzing thread. He rings with the loss, momentarily dazed, but he shakes himself and presses on. ]
Whatever you're havin' will do me just fine.
no subject
if either of them decides this isn't something they want, she thinks they should be able to walk away — that they aren't owed anything just by nature of the mark existing. however, she's also decided that, on her end, she won't be rejecting faraday without first genuinely trying (even if all that means is spending time with him to determine whether or not they can even tolerate each other for extended periods of time).
but until then, emma is and will continue to be kind. he may get on her nerves, may rile her up just the same, but there's a part of her that curls around a flicker of fondness, of that desire to be near him.
she's nearly startled when he finally pulls away, breaking that connection, and as much as she's sorry to see it go, she knows they need to get up. ]
Then I hope I won't be hearin' any complaints over bacon and eggs.
[ her lips lift in a small smile, but then she's finally scooting away, climbing out of the bed to find the light robe from the night before. she'll get dressed properly after faraday's left the bedroom, because, really, she won't be changing in front of him. ]
no subject
[ Who would ever complain about that?
Her touched had sapped away most of the aches of the previous day, and while any lingering stiffness had faded, standing still proves something of a daunting prospect. Faraday swings his legs around, a hand kneading the injured muscle of his thigh, before he slowly pushes himself to his feet, resting one hand on the nightstand for balance. It takes a second or two before he trusts his leg to take his weight, and he stands fully, carefully stretching his limbs.
There's still a limp in his step, though it's not nearly as bad as yesterday, and he pauses in the doorway as he leaves. ]
Let me know if there's anything I can help with. Not that I expect I'll be much help as far as a pan goes, but...
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I think I can manage up the cooking on my own. But I may take you up on gettin' a hand with the dishes.
[ if his arm isn't too sore or he can handle standing on his leg at the sink. ]
no subject
And I may regret makin' that offer.
[ But it's a good-natured sort of grouse as he turns back toward his room. Washing a few plates is about the least he can offer, he supposes, after all the trouble he caused. (They ought to talk about what happened, he knows; he ought to make apologies for the way he spoke to her, for the way he tried so damn hard to fling her kindness back in her face.
But hell if Faraday will be the one to bring it up first.)
And it's a little difficult, at any rate, to be too upset at the sight of that soft smile of hers, at the little curl of warmth that flares in his chest.
Faraday quickly ducks his head, hand resting on the doorknob of her door. ]
I'll leave you to it, then.
no subject
[ she sets her clothes on the bed, glancing up once more at faraday. it's a little odd, she thinks, to see him leaving her bedroom, a surreal reminder that he'd spent the night in her bed, and it brings to mind the evening before.
she hesitates, opening her mouth to speak. part of her is trying to debate whether or not to mention yesterday, because they had agreed to discuss it, and that might even be a proper opportunity to suss out just a touch of what they're doing together, but... ]
Faraday—
[ but then she seems to reconsider it, shaking her head, and looks back to her clothing instead. ]
Close the door behind you, if you don't mind.
no subject
But she seems to let it go, and he relaxes, offers a relieved sort of smile and a lazy little salute as he turns. ]
As you like.
[ The clicks shut behind him, and he lets out a long breath, letting the tension drain from his frame.
Bullet dodged, he thinks to himself, and limps his way into his own room. ]
no subject
it's why she gets dressed, and just settles into the kitchen to see to their breakfast, instead of trying to find a way to bring things up immediately.
the smell of bacon fills her small home, and as she puts together the food, she finds herself...smiling. small, but soft and warm, genuine, even if it's at nothing in particular. it's comforting to have someone to cook for, comforting to have someone there, as opposed to the emptiness that had settled in after matthew's death. it's something she's appreciated about faraday staying with her while he mends, but she's also found that she's come to like that it's faraday — that it actually matters who is in her house with her.
strange. but she likes it. ]