Re: Sat, 4/20 - Nat and Njall (evening)
"I don't like it," Nat said, tapping her fingers nervously on the side of her water cup. If she had been mobile enough, she would have been pacing the room. As it was, it was all she could do to keep from bouncing her leg. "Did you see the look Healer Young gave us before he left? He knows something, don't you think? I'm not making that up, am I? They've done nonstop tests for forty-eight hours, have had two specialists poking at all three of us all day, and they don't know anything yet? Bullshit."
Normally, he would have passed this off as paranoia born from frustration, but there was something deeply unnerving about the way this situation was going. On the one hand, Njall wanted to reassure her, to tell her that it was probably nothing--or nothing important, at least--but, on the other, it smacked of being dismissive and reductionist. He leaned forward from where he was sitting and reached out to settle his hand on hers. "I don't know." He opted for honesty. "But I don't think you're wrong."
She looked down at their hands. "Tony thinks it could be some kind of weird Selkie STD. That that is why he and I both register similarly in the spells."
Startled, Njall jerked back. Her implication registered instinctively before his brain caught up. It did, however, and the realization blasted him like a physical force that had him rocking back against his chair, hand slipping away. "That's--" impossible. But was it? Despite all of the research he'd done, he knew he'd only scratched the surface of his heritage. There was no way he could conclusively refute a damned thing right now. He shoved a hand through his hair, eyes dancing all over the room as he searched for words. They were unhelpfully absent. "It was years ago."
It was a weak excuse, and already the lie burned his tongue. Njall let out a shaky breath, and forced himself to look at Nat. "It was almost Monday night."
Nat shrugged, feeling a little guilty at throwing that at him, but also the tiniest bit of vindictive pleasure. It was wrong of her, and she knew it, but guilt was a far more comfortable emotion right now than many of the others that were assaulting her on a daily basis. It didn't matter, not really.
She looked at him sharply. "What almost was?"
His brows contracted under the weight of his own disgust. "I met up with Tony at the Kestrel. I guess we were trying to feel each other out about all this. Instead--" he laughed suddenly, a harsh sound, all bitterness and self-revilement, "instead we almost felt each other up."
The wry smile that had formed at the dark comedic irony faded just as quickly. Njall leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees, digging in hard as he dropped his head into his hands. "Fuck, I don't know what's wrong with me. One minute, we were talking, and then Tony, being Tony, just did that casual thing where he touches your hand to be--I dunno--reassuring? Comforting? And, guð, I just fucking wanted so much in that moment. Just this--heh--animal pull to be with him. I don't get it. And it was like that too, years back. A touch was all it took. Like it was inevitable."
He looked up at her, and his jaw worked a moment, lips pressing tight. Confession time in the hospital. "It was like that with you too. It is like that, and I… I don't know what to do with that."