He laughs softly, going to flick on the kettle and gather up the components for two cups of tea.
"It looks soft?" Eames offers as an answer. Definitely nothing to do with that vivid memory, holding a dying girl, gaunt and sick but unmistakably Nancy. Of cradling her in his arms, one hand stroking thin, matted hair and murmuring softly to comfort her in her final moments.
"Well, you've touched it, you tell me." She crosses her legs and props her elbow up on the table as she watches him.
She does touch her hair, though. Twists a lock around her finger and decides yes, good, her hair is indeed soft.
"Is Boxer okay?" She asks, at last, reaching down to pet the dog. "He's not usually this... subdued. Do I smell or something?" She makes like she's going to sniff her armpit. "He's never minded Bull's Eye before."
"He's just been a bit anxious recently," it shouldn't be that strange of an explanation, he thinks. She knows what Boxer was like when Eames first brought him home, a timid thing who'd hide behind Eames despite being big for even his breed. "Maybe he knows he's due for a check-up."
Oh Christ, he hasn't even thought about that. How's he going to explain away his dog aging two years to the vet? Has he actually aged even, or is he back where he was before... Everything.
He seems happy with the pets though, leaning into Nancy's touch. Certainly hasn't forgotten Nancy, everything is just different. He's adjusting.
"Poor boy." She gives him plenty of scritches and pets, as all good dogs deserve. And all dogs were good dogs, it was just a fact.
The atmosphere in the kitchen, in this entire day, is so weird. There's something hanging between them that she can't see, but she can feel it. She doesn't particularly care for it, either. Maybe Eames will clear it up once they have their tea.
Or not.
"So you heard about this new vampire that's moved into town?" She asks him. "She's Greek, by way of, of all places, Staten Island. I've heard rumors she's actually got a human familiar, somehow." It's a little unnerving, truthfully. Of course, Bill was, on paper, her familiar, too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
😘😘😘
"It looks soft?" Eames offers as an answer. Definitely nothing to do with that vivid memory, holding a dying girl, gaunt and sick but unmistakably Nancy. Of cradling her in his arms, one hand stroking thin, matted hair and murmuring softly to comfort her in her final moments.
He's just feeling nice today, that's all.
no subject
She does touch her hair, though. Twists a lock around her finger and decides yes, good, her hair is indeed soft.
"Is Boxer okay?" She asks, at last, reaching down to pet the dog. "He's not usually this... subdued. Do I smell or something?" She makes like she's going to sniff her armpit. "He's never minded Bull's Eye before."
no subject
Oh Christ, he hasn't even thought about that. How's he going to explain away his dog aging two years to the vet? Has he actually aged even, or is he back where he was before... Everything.
He seems happy with the pets though, leaning into Nancy's touch. Certainly hasn't forgotten Nancy, everything is just different. He's adjusting.
no subject
The atmosphere in the kitchen, in this entire day, is so weird. There's something hanging between them that she can't see, but she can feel it. She doesn't particularly care for it, either. Maybe Eames will clear it up once they have their tea.
Or not.
"So you heard about this new vampire that's moved into town?" She asks him. "She's Greek, by way of, of all places, Staten Island. I've heard rumors she's actually got a human familiar, somehow." It's a little unnerving, truthfully. Of course, Bill was, on paper, her familiar, too.