Re: [Log: Gym-to-be, Marta and Holly]
Marta didn't comment on the aborted hug either. In fact, she let the thought of it slip quickly away as a strange sort of glitch of her mind. It was easy to let it pass and focus on other things. Like the way she could see the pain on Holly's face - it was hard to miss - so she didn't waste any time crossing to the card table and letting the handles of the bags slip down off her arms. From what she'd come to know of Holly, he didn't seem like the sort of guy that wanted to be fussed over by everyone and their grandma, so while she sort of nudged one of the chairs with her foot until it stood out at an angle toward him, she didn't make a big deal about him maybe sitting his ass down and relaxing now.
That done, she started unpacking the bags. "Hope you're right," she looked up to give him a twist of a smile along with her words, and then pulled out her offerings. Two large white styrofoam containers, each sagging in a way that betrayed how full each was, and each smelling of acidy-sweet tomatoes and garlic (one labeled "LAS" and the other "SPAG"), a tinfoil wrapped blob about half the size of someone's head, a clear plastic clamshell that held about half of a cherry pie. And that was only the first bag. The second held one container of soup - a quart of chicken noodle, and then another - a quart of pasta fagioli, a smallish grease-dotted white paper bag that was folded over at the top, and finally a larger plastic bag containing several crusty-looking rolls. She peered into the bottom of the bag and up-ended it on the table, freeing a small pile of plastic cutlery, napkins, and packets of butter and parmesan cheese.
Her eyes were bright when she finally looked up at him again, gathering both bags in her hand and leaving them on one of the empty chairs. Her coat quickly joined them, draped over the plastic back, leaving her in a fairly simple outfit, thick socks peeking out of the tops of her boots in an attempt to keep her feet warm. "Mostly work. Trying to have conversations. Picking up lunch for this jerk I know." She sat down and almost immediately tucked one foot up beneath her opposite knee. "Hoping he and his husband have a fridge and microwave."