Some time after this, the door to the bedroom opens.
Gabriel's expression is very carefully blank as he walks in. He sets his own binder of papers on the chest of drawers that stands near the door as he walks by it, heading into the bathroom that adjoins their suite.
He doesn't speak -- in fact, he almost seems not to be aware of Regan at all.
The door shuts behind him. Water can be heard running in the sink.
Regan glances at him as he enters, about to say something like 'How did it go?'
One look at his face, and both pleasantries and speech notes are utterly forgotten.
She watches in frozen silence, waiting for him to say something, to notice her, and knowing already that -- whatever the hell happened -- he's not likely to.
The bathroom door closes with a quiet click.
Regan sets aside her notes, moving with slow unconscious deliberation, as if each motion matters. The coverlet carefully folded back; slippers stepped into. There's a loose robe hanging by her side of the bed, always; she shrugs it on as she moves towards the bathroom. Belts it.
Her slippers are a sussuration against thick carpet.
She sets her hand on the knob. Hesitates only a moment, and then opens it.
She's deeply, deeply worried; she's calm, over it, because that is always her first reaction to crisis.
He's standing with his back to the door, and doesn't turn as she enters. Both hands are braced on the countertop, one on each side of of the gleaming marble sink, gripping tightly.
Gabriel's knuckles are white.
His head is down, so that he doesn't have to look in the mirror; his breathing is harsh and slightly ragged.
Comments 28
Gabriel's expression is very carefully blank as he walks in. He sets his own binder of papers on the chest of drawers that stands near the door as he walks by it, heading into the bathroom that adjoins their suite.
He doesn't speak -- in fact, he almost seems not to be aware of Regan at all.
The door shuts behind him. Water can be heard running in the sink.
Reply
One look at his face, and both pleasantries and speech notes are utterly forgotten.
She watches in frozen silence, waiting for him to say something, to notice her, and knowing already that -- whatever the hell happened -- he's not likely to.
The bathroom door closes with a quiet click.
Regan sets aside her notes, moving with slow unconscious deliberation, as if each motion matters. The coverlet carefully folded back; slippers stepped into. There's a loose robe hanging by her side of the bed, always; she shrugs it on as she moves towards the bathroom. Belts it.
Her slippers are a sussuration against thick carpet.
She sets her hand on the knob. Hesitates only a moment, and then opens it.
She's deeply, deeply worried; she's calm, over it, because that is always her first reaction to crisis.
Reply
Gabriel's knuckles are white.
His head is down, so that he doesn't have to look in the mirror; his breathing is harsh and slightly ragged.
Reply
Watching.
It's been... a long time since she's seen him so.
(Gabriel's voice, low and and thick and ruthlessly, desperately controlled: Simon's gone.)
A long time.
Regan bites the inside of her lip, fingers unconsciously tightening on her upper arms.
Then she steps forward -- one step, two. Each one as if through thick mud -- and sets a hand very lightly on his back.
Reply
Leave a comment