RP Open Post

[goddamngrenades]

Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything.
PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever
Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with
Tag and go, baby!

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[tactical_alert]

His eyes are tracking her. She's not staying still this time, like a ghost of her wandering between tables, checking out their compatriots. "You deal with this all the time?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Mhmm. It's worse when she tries to touch me." It's the worst when she can touch him. When he feels it.

[tactical_alert]

"This is only the second time. I saw her--you know when." He loses track of her, somewhere. Maybe she's...gone, for the moment. Maybe she doesn't like being talked about. "Needs getting used to. Like everything else."

[goddamngrenades]

"She might start following you and let me sleep." god that'd be amazing. NOt that he minds her or resents her it's just- it hurts. Having her there when he sleeps. Waking up with her gone.

[tactical_alert]

He can't tell if it's a joke. "That's an unsettling thought that I'll not bother overthinking for now. Maybe when it's discussed with the doctor, it'll resolve itself."

[goddamngrenades]

"It's been discussed. The solution is medication! This is me taking them." So she flits and fizzles and fades out of focus- but she's still there.

[tactical_alert]

"That's you. She's not...native to my head. Might just be a side effect."

[goddamngrenades]

"This is why you signed that waiver." He shrugs, taking another bite of his apple. "Lemme know if you have any mood swings."

[tactical_alert]

"Isn't that mostly what I've been doing since getting out of the pod?" he says with a hint of self-maligning sarcasm.

[goddamngrenades]

"Fair point." He's been- well not perfect but not outside his head as much as he probably could be. "We should probably see my doctor together."

[tactical_alert]

"Together." His spoon pauses in midair. "Like couples counseling. As partners."

[goddamngrenades]

"Well my issues are now your issues. So. You get the fun ride too."

[tactical_alert]

"Does that have to mean going together?"

[goddamngrenades]

"...Do you want a private appointment?" They can probably swing that. Even if he doesn't get why, they can make it happen.

[tactical_alert]

"I'll...think about it. Let's drop it."

[goddamngrenades]

"Okay, no pressure. I still gotta go after I eat though." Which is why he was asking. Get it over with quickly.

[tactical_alert]

"So soon? Shouldn't we...get debriefed or..." He trails off. No, he supposes not. The drift was, for a given definition of the term, a success. Not much more to be said about that.

"I could...go. I can't promise I'll say anything."

[goddamngrenades]

"Your head, your call. I kinda haveta go. I should've gone in right after but..." Mal needed tending. Even if they've leveled out his doctor's gonna be worried.

[tactical_alert]

"There's no way you could have gone right after. You weren't in a fit state to be going to therapy."

[goddamngrenades]

"Observation." Not therapy. "Check my brain chemistry, make sure it wouldn't fuck it up even more."

[tactical_alert]

His eyes narrow a little, not convinced. But York does therapy. Or observation. Or whatever. He knows himself very well. It's his head, after all.

"So I should finish up so we can go? We can go. We should go."

[goddamngrenades]

"I'm gonna go. If you wanna go I don't mind waiting." They waited a whole damn day, a few more minutes isn't gonna kill them.

[tactical_alert]

Nope, not going to spare another minute, they're going, dump the trash leave the trays he'll let York lead the way.

[goddamngrenades]

Okay sudden but- alright. He leads Mal back through the halls to his doctor's office, knocking lightly. Dr. Ramirez is less than pleased with how LATE he is but- Mal's there with him and that's. probably good.

"Come in, sit down. Coffee, tea, fruit juice?" Something to get them comfortable and get York hydrated.

"You got any pineapple juice?" York slumps in the nearest sofa, massaging the bridge of his nose against another headache.

[tactical_alert]

What, he wasn't going back for seconds, and apparently York was plenty late enough as it was. But in the office, he doesn't...know quite what to do with himself. Does he sit? Maybe he'll just stand over here by the door. Sure, therapists are important. And with all the shit in his head, he might need one. Doesn't have to like his own advice, though.