1/2
Lita works methodically; muscle memory working her nimble fingers to create perfect, precise stitches. The familiar motion grounds her, keeps her focused, and prevents her from losing her cool as James attempts to explain (but thankfully, not excuse) the complete shitshow he initiated earlier in the day. His words still ring in her ears; angry, dogmatic, ugly. James' ire was intended for Pete but every cutting insult, every livid slur cut right to the core of Lita. His apology isn't pretty (even if the deep, rumbling drawl he says it in is), but if Lita didn't question everything that came out of his mouth anymore, she'd swear it was genuine. Even if he's truly repentant, he can't unring the bell he's rung. It will always be there and Lita will always wonder how long it will be until he thinks those things about her.
"You? A temper? You don't say," Lita deadpans. He can't see the exaggerated eye roll with her eyes downcast but there's no mistaking the derision in her voice. Her eyes flick up, but do not linger, on James' face when he begins to question the collective he created here. If he's confused to to how he became a shepherd to an unruly flock he's the only one that is. In a time when so many things seem inevitable, people look to those who are unafraid to take matters in their own hands and mold their own futures instead of simply letting things happen. His burdens are considerable; the lives of men, women, children all fall under his purview. He was a problem, the problem for a great many people but not to these people, not to his own.
Lita watches as his hand dips into her frame of view, the pad of his thumb tracing gently across one of her delicate sutures. She doesn't halt her progress in her procedure but she watches the gesture despite herself. She remembers what it feels like to be held by those hands and the recollection is just as vivid as it is bittersweet. When James begins to explain his completely unfounded and frankly bizarre jealousy over her coworker, Lita has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Lita looks up from her task, resting her hands lightly on James' leg, and doing her utmost to reign in the strange smirk threatening to claim her lips.