| [Dec. 24th, 2010|06:34 pm] |
A wry grin quirked fleetingly across Rina’s lips. “That makes two of us. Though right now I think--” A jaw-cracking yawn overtook the rest of her sentence, surprising her. “--I think I’m not up for much other than sleeping,” she finished sheepishly. She’d felt okay up until just now, but suddenly it felt kind of like a brick wall had fallen on her back. Curling up closer to Genma and wondering if her eyelids had always felt so heavy, Rina smiled. “Too much talking and not enough sex,” she murmured, amused. “How unlike either of us.”
It was good to talk, she knew. They’d said it over and over in the later years of the Academy, in psych evaluations, and after debriefings. You were supposed to work through what had happened and understand your reactions to it, to find out what you did wrong and do better the next time.
Personally, she preferred sex.
But beggars can’t be choosers, and she had, after all, been the one to start the discussion. Too bad she was so tired, or she’d be the one to end it, too — much more pleasantly than it began. Instead, hazily recognizing the symptoms of a soldier pill crash, Rina stifled another yawn and racked her brain for the vague thought pricking at her consciousness and urging her to stay awake through the haze of warmth and safety. There was something...
A sudden clatter of the doorframe, coinciding with a sharp tug on her chakra, shook the memory abruptly to the surface. Jolting into brief alertness, she caught Genma’s confused glance and tossed him a conspiratorial smile. Pressing a finger against her lips, she tumbled soundlessly out of the bed and into the worn armchair, hunching down as if she’d been on the verge of falling asleep there.
Her small seal tag, pressed inconspicuously above the doorknob where she’d left it, hummed silently, and strained... and broke.
The thump of an emphatic kick sent the door crashing open, a bewildered nurse stumbling a few steps into the room and nearly dropping her clipboard. Rina started awake in the chair, blinking at her surroundings and frowning at the intruder. She added on a quick reach for a nonexistent kunai, for verisimilitude. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Genma had followed her lead, though not so far as to jostle any of his injuries.
Giving the nurse a moment to recover her undoubtedly formidable composure, Rina shook her head, rubbing imaginary sleep-dust from her eyes. “It was stuck, I guess?” she ventured innocently, unable to hide a small smile. “That’s too bad, you know these hospital doors...”
The nurse cast Rina a sideways look, suspicious under iron-gray eyebrows, but with no proof. If she looked behind the door, the tag would have poofed into a fine dust. “Yes,” she frowned. “I do.”
Rina beamed back, all angelic. There was nothing for her to feel ashamed of, anyway. Just another ordinary aftermath of another ordinary mission.
Heaven help them all — especially Genma — after whatever the next one might be. |
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