wolflord_andain | (no subject)

(no subject)

Galadan, as it happens, is not much in the habit of staying in Milliways for long periods of time, particularly not in his human shape.

The situation being what it is, however, he has made very little protest about being escorted to one of said bar's rooms.

Give it a few days, mayhap.

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Galadan will never outwardly acknowledge the sense of gratefulness that he's carried since halfway through the bar downstairs.

It is not as if he particularly needs to, all things considered.

And speaking of considering --

In better times he might be inclined to sit in the chair before removing his boots, but today --

Today he will settle for the bed.

Carefully.

River's never been particularly attached to outward demonstrations, anyway.

With Galadan safely settled, she moves on to the small bathroom. She brushes her hands over the counter, until her fingers close experimentally around the glass resting on the sink.

She fills it with water, double-checking with a finger that it's mostly full -- River doesn't rely with certainty on either vision or hearing, if she has a back-up -- and then carries it back into the room. The care with which she holds it, two-handed like a child, is somewhat at odds with the streaks of blood on her hands and shirt and boots, and the gunbelts slung comfortably low on her hips.

Galadan flicks a quick glance in her direction, brow furrowing as the too-quick movement causes something unpleasant to happen in his skull.

Then, even more carefully, he finishes untying his boots and removes them. Sitting upright is another source of effort, which may impact the speed with which he reaches for the glass.

He appears oblivious to the blood and the gunbelts, or at least oblivious to their potential incongruity. And the glass, of course, is accepted with every indication of solemnity.

He does not have the energy for being ironic at this juncture, and a dehydration headache is definitely not in the cards.

River will pretend there was sardonic irony voiced at every stage of this, if he likes.

Or, you know, never mention the fact that there wasn't, at least.

She glances at him, and she doesn't ask anything aloud, because she doesn't need to: is there anything else he wants?

(Besides a refill on the water, if he finishes it. He gets that anyway.)

One corner of Galadan's mouth quirks fractionally as he hands back the empty water glass.

It may be his way of saying 'no, but thank you'.

Or it may just be acknowledgment of the ridiculousness of his current circumstances, knowingly chosen though they are.

Still, he has had worse days.

River smiles faintly in response, turning away with the water glass in her hand. (Just one hand, since it's empty.)

Galadan may not be able to actually see her expression, but that's not strictly necessary anyhow.

Galadan's own smile broadens a fraction.

Then he begins the work of swinging his legs up onto the bed and settling himself on the pillows.

It may take a few moments.

That's okay. River has to get water anyway.

She deposits it on the bedside table, this time.

The light clicks off behind her, and the door snicks very quietly shut.

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