![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-cyclops.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsSometimes the day is just too hard to face, and the real measure of a friend is in not asking you to.
He'd sent a couple of the necessary emails that needed sending, and then realized that he didn't particularly want to get showered and dressed and head off to face the day like he should. There was nothing that really needed doing from his office this morning, Scott thought, staring at the unshaven, bruised countenance staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. Nothing this morning, and nothing this afternoon, as a matter of fact.
Tomorrow he had class. By tomorrow he'd have... rediscovered his professional mask. Remembered how to fake it believably. Whatever you wanted to call it. Scott went back out into the living room and without making a move towards the still-drawn curtains, laid down on the couch where he had pretended to sleep last night. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the water running through the filter in Horatio's tank.
Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and a soft voice telling him who it was.
"Come in, Al."
The door opened and closed softly, not even the slightest sound escaping it while it was in motion, not even the click of the door lock setting into place. Ghosting through the room, Alison made her way to the couch where Scott was, saying nothing as he kept staring upward. There wasn't anything to say, really. Nothing at all, not at this moment.
There was nothing to say, but there was something to do, and that was what Alison was concentrating on, just now. And so she sat down on the floor next to the couch, leaning against it slowly, staring ahead in the darkness of the room as well. Eventually, with only the sound of the aquarium to keep them company, she reached out, loosely holding Scott's hand in her own, letting it rest on the couch as it had been before she'd walked in.
There was nothing to say, really, and it wasn't the time to express her doubts as to Jean's mental state or control, just as it wasn't the time to mention the wedding preparations she and Haroun were working on, would be talking about later that day.
There was nothing at all to say, really.
But she could be there, and that, in and of itself, was something.
He'd sent a couple of the necessary emails that needed sending, and then realized that he didn't particularly want to get showered and dressed and head off to face the day like he should. There was nothing that really needed doing from his office this morning, Scott thought, staring at the unshaven, bruised countenance staring back at him from the bathroom mirror. Nothing this morning, and nothing this afternoon, as a matter of fact.
Tomorrow he had class. By tomorrow he'd have... rediscovered his professional mask. Remembered how to fake it believably. Whatever you wanted to call it. Scott went back out into the living room and without making a move towards the still-drawn curtains, laid down on the couch where he had pretended to sleep last night. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the water running through the filter in Horatio's tank.
Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and a soft voice telling him who it was.
"Come in, Al."
The door opened and closed softly, not even the slightest sound escaping it while it was in motion, not even the click of the door lock setting into place. Ghosting through the room, Alison made her way to the couch where Scott was, saying nothing as he kept staring upward. There wasn't anything to say, really. Nothing at all, not at this moment.
There was nothing to say, but there was something to do, and that was what Alison was concentrating on, just now. And so she sat down on the floor next to the couch, leaning against it slowly, staring ahead in the darkness of the room as well. Eventually, with only the sound of the aquarium to keep them company, she reached out, loosely holding Scott's hand in her own, letting it rest on the couch as it had been before she'd walked in.
There was nothing to say, really, and it wasn't the time to express her doubts as to Jean's mental state or control, just as it wasn't the time to mention the wedding preparations she and Haroun were working on, would be talking about later that day.
There was nothing at all to say, really.
But she could be there, and that, in and of itself, was something.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}