She watches Ellie's thumb rub over the lip of inlay and realises what she's feeling is envy. She's envious of her getting to have something that came from her mom, when she has nothing from her dad. She kept all his stuff in her room back at the stadium and when whatever's left of the WLF goes through that room, her and Manny's, they'll box everything in there up and redistribute it, clear it out. Survivors don't throw anything away. Somebody else will get all of Manny's photography equipment, lovingly collected and restored over the years; her cassette tapes, her favourite books, her dad's alma mater mug.
It takes real effort to put that thought aside, try to banish it.
"I came here out of a nightmare." Her usual: the long hospital corridor bathed in red light, alarms wailing, "My bag wasn't even full."
But she doesn't want to talk about it. Knowing about the knife is enough, really, and that Ellie wanted to tell her about it. Abby clears her throat and takes a good step back to clear her head. "Try stretching your leg."
Ellie is quiet, reading but not reading the thoughts Abby's having underneath the surface. She can sense the tangle of emotions, mostly because she knows them well. She just can't do anything to understand details.
That's what doesn't fit about Abby. The details.
She wonders if she's ever known anyone so well, and yet not at all.
Ellie wrestles with it, the idea of asking about it. Her nightmare. Whatever would keep her with a half-full bag.
What was the worst day of your life?
Was it because of me?
She resolves to do it. To ask. To say it out loud, to ask about Abby as a person and damn the consequences, but then Abby brings it back to her hurts, and the moment shatters. Ellie shakes herself out of the strangeness and back to the present, and stretches out her leg in front of her, flexing the muscles before she slides off the edge and onto her feet. Puts weight on it.
"Good." Both in response and reaction to Ellie testing her weight until Abby's critical eye. Easy. They're done here.
But it feels too abrupt to pack herself up and leave.
It always feels like this lately with Ellie, like they aren't finished talking even though they've run out of things to say. Even now there's a strange tension, not necessarily unbearable, just- undeniably there. Abby pinches the inside of her cheek gently between her teeth, worrying the skin.
She says, lamely, "Do you... need help cleaning up?" They kinda got the blood all over the place. Abby wasn't exactly careful with where she was leaving the cloth either.
Running out of things to say around Abby is starting to become the norm. But something always hangs in the air between them after they stop, because they're not going to bother will the bullshit of small talk, and they're both too aware of the pain they'd be prodding into if they asked questions.
It's a weird sort of mutual respect, something unique to her, and Ellie doesn't know what to do with it. She glances up, at Abby's face, following the way she fidgets. She doesn't pick her fingers like Ellie does, but there's always a muscle working in her jaw.
At her question, Ellie glances back at the counter, blinking, frowning with she realizes what a mess they've made.
"Yeah," she says gratefully, heading for the water and the cloths, all the better to scrub up. "Or they're gonna think we got into it."
It loosens her up. She takes the wadded up cloth, and uses the last clean edges of it to blot at what they've left behind. Obviously it'll come out of the cloth in cold water, but... well, it probably shouldn't go back into the rotation of cloths used in the kitchen, huh. She can stuff it in her pack and keep it for first aid.
She comes to wash it out at the sink where Ellie's scrubbing at herself, getting under fingernails. Idly, "Guess they'll think I won. With all the blood being yours."
Abby's laugh is nice, soft and rumbly, uplifting itself at the end. Ellie talks down a shiver that tries to work its way up her back. Holds herself steady as Abby takes a place next to her, the two of them side by side like this is the most normal thing in the world.
Slow, it's becoming more normal than the shadows of themselves they left behind.
She snorts under her breath, lets herself have this, tentatively.
"Like anyone's gonna know it's my blood. Astarion, maybe, or Mado. Maybe. But we both bleed the same."
She snorts over the mention of Astarion, slipping a mutter of, "You the Mina Harker to his Dracula, or something?" underneath the bustling of hand-washing and cloth-wringing, which is maybe an unfair comment. But it's also true. "You're the one with all the blood on your clothes."
Which is not true, because there is some on her pants where she wiped her hand. Obviously she hasn't noticed that yet.
Too busy settling into this strange dynamic they seem to be trying. It's not good, but- it's not bad, either. It's just new.
"The who?" Ellie asks, tilting her head at Abby, but quickly letting it go. There were times when old-world references flew over her head, and she'd never understood the whole vampire thing.
Instead she rolls her eyes, then indicates her outfit, which after being pulled back in place shows a very clear and obvious blood seepage and cut from where the knife slashed her open.
"This could have been from stabbing you," she insists.
"The- Mina Harper." Not letting it go. "Dracula?" Ellie's obviously ignorant to what she's talking about, no matter how hard Abby squints at her for it. She sighs, "Why has nobody here read that book?"
And what's the point in making really funny references if nobody gets them...
Whatever. Ellie's suggestion gets a raised eyebrow, half a laugh. "It could have been from missing me, and falling on your own knife."
Later, she'll think about how good it felt for Ellie to say no one back home like that, off the cuff, like they're that familiar with each other. She's grinning as she wrings out the cloth, but it twists into exasperation as she follows the gesture down to-
"Oh goddamnit-" not her pants. She swats at the stain uselessly, huffing, and gives Ellie a rueful look. Her gaze lingers for a moment too long. Or, it feels like that anyway.
Fuck.
No matter how she spins this inside of her own head it's weird. Right? She opens her mouth, realises she doesn't know what to say, and stuffs the damp cloth into her pocket.
"I'm- gonna go change." There. An escape for the both of them.
Ellie snickers under her breath, lets the edge of a smile sneak out at the look on Abby's face. She'll hate herself later for it, but in the moment, it feels good to just be human for a second. The let this linger in the air until they both have to come down, and remember who they are.
It's uncomfortable to realize that they would've liked each other.
Maybe they even would've been friends.
The smile fades from both of their faces at about the same time, and Ellie feels another twinge, confines her response to a nod.
"Yeah, me too. After you."
An awkward pause. Ellie's shit is still in the room.
Oh god she said bye and now they're walking in the same direction
Abby holds in place for a moment but she can't figure out what exactly she's waiting for... something else to happen? A lot has happened this evening already. She wants a bath, she thinks, she might- go back to the room and get her shit, leave it empty for Ellie to come back to. Go stew in some hot water.
She turns to go, and hopes very hard that Ellie will take the hint and give her a good head start. Even though it wasn't the worst interaction they've ever had, far from it.
Probably one of the best, actually. Up there with the conversation by the fire anyway.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It takes real effort to put that thought aside, try to banish it.
"I came here out of a nightmare." Her usual: the long hospital corridor bathed in red light, alarms wailing, "My bag wasn't even full."
But she doesn't want to talk about it. Knowing about the knife is enough, really, and that Ellie wanted to tell her about it. Abby clears her throat and takes a good step back to clear her head. "Try stretching your leg."
It's a much safer topic of conversation.
no subject
That's what doesn't fit about Abby. The details.
She wonders if she's ever known anyone so well, and yet not at all.
Ellie wrestles with it, the idea of asking about it. Her nightmare. Whatever would keep her with a half-full bag.
What was the worst day of your life?
Was it because of me?
She resolves to do it. To ask. To say it out loud, to ask about Abby as a person and damn the consequences, but then Abby brings it back to her hurts, and the moment shatters. Ellie shakes herself out of the strangeness and back to the present, and stretches out her leg in front of her, flexing the muscles before she slides off the edge and onto her feet. Puts weight on it.
It pulls a touch, but it's sturdy.
"Stitches aren't going anywhere."
no subject
But it feels too abrupt to pack herself up and leave.
It always feels like this lately with Ellie, like they aren't finished talking even though they've run out of things to say. Even now there's a strange tension, not necessarily unbearable, just- undeniably there. Abby pinches the inside of her cheek gently between her teeth, worrying the skin.
She says, lamely, "Do you... need help cleaning up?" They kinda got the blood all over the place. Abby wasn't exactly careful with where she was leaving the cloth either.
no subject
It's a weird sort of mutual respect, something unique to her, and Ellie doesn't know what to do with it. She glances up, at Abby's face, following the way she fidgets. She doesn't pick her fingers like Ellie does, but there's always a muscle working in her jaw.
At her question, Ellie glances back at the counter, blinking, frowning with she realizes what a mess they've made.
"Yeah," she says gratefully, heading for the water and the cloths, all the better to scrub up. "Or they're gonna think we got into it."
It's a stupid joke, but.
no subject
She chuckles. "Probably."
It loosens her up. She takes the wadded up cloth, and uses the last clean edges of it to blot at what they've left behind. Obviously it'll come out of the cloth in cold water, but... well, it probably shouldn't go back into the rotation of cloths used in the kitchen, huh. She can stuff it in her pack and keep it for first aid.
She comes to wash it out at the sink where Ellie's scrubbing at herself, getting under fingernails. Idly, "Guess they'll think I won. With all the blood being yours."
no subject
Slow, it's becoming more normal than the shadows of themselves they left behind.
She snorts under her breath, lets herself have this, tentatively.
"Like anyone's gonna know it's my blood. Astarion, maybe, or Mado. Maybe. But we both bleed the same."
no subject
Which is not true, because there is some on her pants where she wiped her hand. Obviously she hasn't noticed that yet.
Too busy settling into this strange dynamic they seem to be trying. It's not good, but- it's not bad, either. It's just new.
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Instead she rolls her eyes, then indicates her outfit, which after being pulled back in place shows a very clear and obvious blood seepage and cut from where the knife slashed her open.
"This could have been from stabbing you," she insists.
no subject
And what's the point in making really funny references if nobody gets them...
Whatever. Ellie's suggestion gets a raised eyebrow, half a laugh. "It could have been from missing me, and falling on your own knife."
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But she laughs again, and this time it doesn't twist Ellie up in knots.
"Then how're we gonna explain where you sat in it?"
She gestures.
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Later, she'll think about how good it felt for Ellie to say no one back home like that, off the cuff, like they're that familiar with each other. She's grinning as she wrings out the cloth, but it twists into exasperation as she follows the gesture down to-
"Oh goddamnit-" not her pants. She swats at the stain uselessly, huffing, and gives Ellie a rueful look. Her gaze lingers for a moment too long. Or, it feels like that anyway.
Fuck.
No matter how she spins this inside of her own head it's weird. Right? She opens her mouth, realises she doesn't know what to say, and stuffs the damp cloth into her pocket.
"I'm- gonna go change." There. An escape for the both of them.
no subject
It's uncomfortable to realize that they would've liked each other.
Maybe they even would've been friends.
The smile fades from both of their faces at about the same time, and Ellie feels another twinge, confines her response to a nod.
"Yeah, me too. After you."
An awkward pause. Ellie's shit is still in the room.
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Abby holds in place for a moment but she can't figure out what exactly she's waiting for... something else to happen? A lot has happened this evening already. She wants a bath, she thinks, she might- go back to the room and get her shit, leave it empty for Ellie to come back to. Go stew in some hot water.
She turns to go, and hopes very hard that Ellie will take the hint and give her a good head start. Even though it wasn't the worst interaction they've ever had, far from it.
Probably one of the best, actually. Up there with the conversation by the fire anyway.
She'll figure it out later.