(no subject)

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta accidentally acquired a new pet last night.

Granted, he's not really thinking of the bird as a pet yet. Tame as it seems, he has the feeling it'd do better back out on the grounds than cooped up with him in his room. He doesn't know what it eats or how to care for it. He doesn't even know what the frak it is.

Which accounts for the sizeable stack of bird guides and encyclopedias on a coffee table near the fireplace. Gaeta's stretched out along one of the couches; in the space below his right knee, the bird dozes, its comically large beak tucked under a (just as comically) tiny wing. If he remembers right, the outside was modeled on some place called "Scotland." A Field Guide to the Birds of Britain and Europe seems like a good place to start, then.

(Gaeta doesn't know that he's aiming about thirteen thousand miles too high and four hundred years too late.)



[ooc: and the mun is off to bed, but this post is open until it scrolls!]

Comments

[mr_gaeta]

"Thanks," murmurs Gaeta as he accepts the mug.

As soon as it's in his hands, the bird leans over to give it a sniff -- and immediately rears back with what sounds a lot like a sneeze.

[faithful_lt]

"... I'll take that as a no."

He reclaims his cup and takes a sip.

"Oh gods, that's good."

[mr_gaeta]

"Apparently," says Gaeta, struggling not to laugh -- both at the bird and at the expression on Louis' face. He takes a pull from his own mug. "Best coffee I've had in years."

[faithful_lt]

"Mm-hmm."

He settles more deeply into the couch, cradling the cup loosely in his hands.

[mr_gaeta]

For an instant, he almost leans closer, ready to settle himself against Louis like they've done a hundred times: just sit together, shoulder to shoulder, and rest in comfortable silence.

For an instant; and then he remembers, and catches himself, and looks down into his own mug.

You did this, whispers a reminder. It's your fault. Don't pity yourself and mourn what you frakked up.

[faithful_lt]

Silence descends between them for several seconds.

Hoshi's eyelids flutter closed before he catches himself and blinks awake again.


"... maybe coffee's not going to be enough," he admits, quietly.

[mr_gaeta]

Gaeta looks up, pulled backward from the whirlpool of thoughts.

Soft: "Want to come get some sleep?"

[faithful_lt]

Want is a difficult word right now, and so he instinctively evades it, focusing instead on something else.

"I probably should."

A beat.

"Thanks."

[mr_gaeta]

"Anytime," he murmurs.

Setting the mostly-full mug aside, he finds his crutches and gets up, moving toward the stairs.

Both Louis and the bird follow close behind.