Jean and Paige, cookie delivering (Sunday afternoon)

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Jean comes in to deliver Paige's cookies. She is very sweet and subtle and the two of them chat about the new baby and Shakespeare before Paige manages to cough herself into a sleep. Set before this log.


Jean shifted the plate of cookies in her hand and reached out to tap on the door to the iso rooms. This time she waited until there was something resembling a sense of acceptance that the door was going to open (it would more accurately be described as a wary preparedness, but that would do) before cracking is slowly and carefully. "Paige, it's Jean. I've brought you a present."

"Hello," came a quiet voice from inside. Her throat refused to heal, even after the weekend in quiet and away from the cold, so everything came out in half tones and airy. It only managed to give fuel to the idea of Paige as a frightened animal, with her darting eyes and the shivering she still couldn't get a hold of, even with the several layers of blankets she'd been given.

"Hello," Jean replied, slipping inside and shutting the door. "I've brought cookies. One of your friends sent them down, said they were your favorite." She set the plate on the bolted down table top, wondering if curiosity would induce the girl to come closer. Jean's bet was on 'no'.

Paige jolted at that, curling in a little as if waiting for another shock. A knotted tendril of her hair fell forward and into her eye, but she couldn't loosen her grip on herself to brush it away. "My friends?" she asked cautiously, licking her lips with a dry tongue. "Kitty?"

"It came while I was away, and wasn't signed, I'm afraid," Jean said, uncertain whether or not it would be good to tell her it was Amanda. From what she understood, Paige and Amanda had had a rather terrific fight. But then again, Kitty had apparently also upset her. It was a fine line, but discretion was probably the better choice. Besides, it was perfectly true...

"Mm," Paige replied, noncommittally, staring at the plate from her corner with a sturdy, unwavering gaze. Jean was protecting her and she knew it; but given the circumstances, she wouldn't push the question and get herself a guarantee. "Thank you."

Well, at least she was willing to let herself be protected. "Also, I have news. The school's newest resident has joined us. William Norton McCoy was born early this morning."

Nostrils flaring, Paige gave herself a moment to brush aside the immediate reaction she knew she'd have to the eventual announcement. Why did children scare her so much? Not wanting them was understandable, but the way her heart was beating... "Norton. I approve."

Jean rode the sudden rush of fear as best she could, fingers clenching into a fist behind her back. "Yes. There's been some discussion, and it seems he'll probably be going by 'Billy' until he's old enough to decide he wants something else."

"I'm sure the Bard is flinching somewhere, but it's best to ignore him," Paige answered in turn. She wasn't much of a play reader, but everyone had to have some respect for Shakespeare, even scientific geniuses.

"I suspect he rolls in his grave often enough that they've installed a gyroscope," Jean agreed. "After all, he is taught in your average ninth grade English course." The banter gave them both something else to focus on, and did help, really. In a very small way.

"Don't forget Keanu Reeves as Hamlet," Paige pointed out, nose wrinkling. She had no love for the glassy-eyed look. "Poor, poor Hamlet. And Will. I suppose he got all the words in the right order, but that's about it."

Jean nodded. "That is pretty much all there is to say about that movie, and even that's giving it a bit too much credit, since just putting the words in the right order doesn't help if you don't understand what you're saying and can't emote it."

"Lots of people suffer from the inability to understand what they're saying," Paige said in return, suddenly glancing back at the plate of biscuits as if to remind them that she was still watching them. Her glaring was brought to a halt, however, by a sudden coughing fit from all the talking, which she covered with her sheet covered arm.

Jean waited until the coughing died down, restraining the impulse to hurry across the room and help her. "Breathe, Paige," she said, hearing the hysterical edge to the girl's thoughts and the speeding up of her breath.

There was a last hack and a dry, gasp before Paige finally raised her head. Tiredly she tried to smile, raising her arm to show it to Jean. "No blood this time?" she declared, as if this was a big step up from her other fits; which it probably was. "Sorry about that."

"It's all right, love, don't apologize. I should probably give you some more space and get some work done. If you want." It was very much up to Paige. If she wanted Jean to stay, if she didn't want to be alone now, Jean would. If she wanted the doctor gone, that would happen, too.

"Not your fault," Paige answered firmly, looking up at her doctor. "But... tired." Indeed, her eyes had gone from looking bright and interested to dull and exhausted, her head already starting to lean slightly towards the wall. She was so easy to tire these days.

"I know. Rest, then, and you can call me if you need anything."