RP: Dealing Characters: Jaime, Mal Time/Date: afternoon, September 29 Location: his room Warnings/Rating: Angst, Jaime's mouth, Jaime being irrational, etc Summary: Jaime figures they should talk Status: Player drop
Jaime plucked idly at the edge of the bandage closest to her elbow. Simon had just rewrapped it after cleaning it and checking the stitches. He hadn't said much, but Jaime still felt like he was judging her. For what, really? Being weak? Having a shitty past that overwhelmed her when it was all she could see in her thoughts?
Maybe he was. He probably wasn't. It didn't really matter either way though. Mal was the one she had to be concerned about. Under the guise of needing space, or needing a nap because of the pain meds, she'd kind of been avoiding him a little. She spent time with him, but ... not the sort she should. Honestly, she was kind of ashamed of what had happened to her (what she'd let happen to her?) and she didn't really want to be around him while she was all wrapped up like that, with the bandage all but screaming 'look what Jaime did!' to anyone who cared to look.
But she'd done the avoidance thing once before and wow, that had gone well. Every time she left, she promised to return, and she always did return, when she felt like she could be cheerful for him.
She figured it was ... long past time to actually talk with him though, and see what kind of ground had been lost during the invasion.
Bearing a gift of earplugs and armed with a pad and two pens (in case they got tired of shouting over the music), Jaime wandered up to Mal's room and let herself in.