Micah Castro Braden // Doctor Watson, I presume (acatalyst) wrote in bellumlogs,
"Three days," he repeated, not moving and not handing her the crutches. He said it in a way that made it clear he'd grown up somewhere his voice had mattered and been heeded, regardless of where he was now. "Doctor's orders."
She felt slight, yet solid under his hands. Not a librarian, he thought again, as if that needed any further clarification in his mind. The scent was stronger this close, and it was heady, he realized. No, not heady... sexual. The realization was visible on his face, even if the reason for it was not.
"I can leave the apartment to you and Mr. Marion, Iris. I have nothing to hide here." A lie, but one he could remedy before good Mr. Marion arrived.