"I'm not trying to guilt you," he snaps. "I thought it was a solution. Apparently there is none; apparently I'm backed into a corner and nothing can be done. You were just saying you didn't care about Delilah, that she was a bitch, and now you tell me you like her!" He runs his hand over his hair and shakes his head.
"If there's nothing I can do," he says, a hint of resentment in his voice, now, "then fine, I'll marry her. You don't have to come, you don't even have to acknowledge it. To quote you, do what you want."
Two can play the teenager game.
It drops, though when he sees her stagger, and his arm drapes around her waist to support her as they make their way in. He chuckles dryly, saying, "No, princess, I don't think so. But we'll try to get you in as quickly as possible, even if I have to knock over some cripples to get to the desk first."
Luckily, there's not a line at the desk, and just a handful of patients in the waiting room: some sick looking kid, a tired-looking woman checking her phone while she waits, and a pair of old people, the husband holding a wadded tissue to staunch his bleeding nose. Richard glances them over, then to Salome, saying, "It shouldn't take too long, come here," he nods to the nurse as they make it to the desk, saying, "let's get you checked in."
As he talks to the nurse, everything feels so completely unreal. He's been drained from himself, his lungs crushed up behind his ribs. Yes, once it's out, there's no taking it back, but how could he have possibly known that he would face this upon letting it out? His paranoia kicks into overdrive and suddenly he fancies he's on the verge of losing her, and the thought makes him look ill as he fills out the portions of the forms he needs to.
But if a man has to be sick, it had might as well be in an ER.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-01-09 06:44 pm (UTC)"If there's nothing I can do," he says, a hint of resentment in his voice, now, "then fine, I'll marry her. You don't have to come, you don't even have to acknowledge it. To quote you, do what you want."
Two can play the teenager game.
It drops, though when he sees her stagger, and his arm drapes around her waist to support her as they make their way in. He chuckles dryly, saying, "No, princess, I don't think so. But we'll try to get you in as quickly as possible, even if I have to knock over some cripples to get to the desk first."
Luckily, there's not a line at the desk, and just a handful of patients in the waiting room: some sick looking kid, a tired-looking woman checking her phone while she waits, and a pair of old people, the husband holding a wadded tissue to staunch his bleeding nose. Richard glances them over, then to Salome, saying, "It shouldn't take too long, come here," he nods to the nurse as they make it to the desk, saying, "let's get you checked in."
As he talks to the nurse, everything feels so completely unreal. He's been drained from himself, his lungs crushed up behind his ribs. Yes, once it's out, there's no taking it back, but how could he have possibly known that he would face this upon letting it out? His paranoia kicks into overdrive and suddenly he fancies he's on the verge of losing her, and the thought makes him look ill as he fills out the portions of the forms he needs to.
But if a man has to be sick, it had might as well be in an ER.