e_delmar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Those couches in the lounge? They're gettin' an awful lot of business from the back end of Ennis Del Mar. He'd be spending the time in bed, but starin' up at that ceiling gets old after a while.

So instead, he's starin' up at this ceiling. The carving in his hands ain't goin' too bad, considering he ain't looking while he works.

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"Ain't sure yet what it wants to be."

Right now it's sort of resemblin' a mountain, but far's carvings go, that ain't too interesting.

Kaylee pulls her feet up under her so she's sitting crosslegged.

"You need anything?"

Eyes all the way down. A deep swallow.

"Ain't no trouble."

Because that was what was strangest, for her. People doing things for her that she ought to have been able to do for herself.

"Promise."

"Can't, uh.

can't think 'o nothing."

"When you do, you better let me know." Wry, and gentle. "'Cause otherwise I'm gonna get mad."

Kaylee gives his arm a very, very light nudge with her elbow.

He looks up at her, his eyes tired, and a little foggy, and if he don't nudge back, it ain't for lack of want.

Thing is, Kaylee's mother has always been one of the go-to ladies in Jefferson, when you've got a sick mother or father or husband or wife or child and you need an extra pair of hands for a couple of hours, and in eighteen years of watching that go on, you see what happens when people die. You see what to do when there's nothing else to do. And one of the things you learn is that there's no good in letting them see you're upset. You have to push it back.

You have to do the job.

She'll slip away to the engine room every now and again for her kind of quiet, when it gets heavy.

Right now, though, she's here, and it's...all right.

"How long you been up?"

He thinks.

and thinks.

and thinks.

Yeah, he doesn't know. Rather, a fuckin' long time.

Quiet: "Might want to think about headin' back there. When you're ready."

Meaning she's not going to push it.

His hands clench down tight on the wood, and he turns to her, eyes wide.

"Just to bed." Shaking her head, just a little.

(And wondering: how far gone ishe?)

"Is all. It -- ain't nothin' wrong with that, is there?"

He swallows, his throat raw when he speaks again.

"Guess not."

Can go back to starin' at that ceiling.

She's watching him.

"You sure about that?"

Another shrug. Seems he's doin' a lot of that.

"Ain't gonna sleep if I do."

"Okay," Kaylee says, and doesn't say anything else.

Just sits. Quiet's comfortable, this time of day.

Nothing's all that comfortable for Ennis, but it don't have nothing to do with time of day. He winces as he shifts on the couch, eyes clenching shut, letting out a muttered curse.

She's looking at him again, at that, and she doesn't reach out, but says, quiet, "I can go find Simon."

"NO."

Kaylee can't hide her expression. Not immediately.

"All right." Conciliatory, and just on the near edge of being a whisper.

He's still shakin' his head at her, like he didn't even hear her say all right.

"Just gotta..."

but his voice just drops off, 'cause he don't know what he's gotta do. Not one fucking bit.

Neither does Kaylee.

"All right," she says again. "It's all right."

"No."

He says it again, softly this time, and shakes his head. 'Cause it ain't, and sometimes there just ain't nothing you can do about that.

No. There's not.

It's why Kaylee doesn't say anything. She doesn't want to acknowledge it.

But she doesn't want to lie, either. Or fight.

Ain't much use in any of those things, is there? So Ennis just smiles at her, and reaches out for her hand.

She squeezes his, gently. Doesn't know what'll hurt and what won't.

It's just a hell of a mess.

Don't matter, he's gonna hurt either way. And he'd tell her that, if he could.

Instead, he just squeezes back.

And it's better'n staring at the ceiling.

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