(no subject)

[runningred]

Jay has taken up one of the corner tables tonight, his feet propped up on another chair and a small pile of books next to him. For anyone reading covers, most of the books have to do with PTSD and have dozens of bookmarks hanging out of them.

Botherable, especially if you come bearing coffee.


{trigger warmings - probable discussion about Jay's messed up past}

Comments

[notapilot]

Sam's enjoying a plate of fajitas nearby and thinking about one of his people, about how much he'd enjoy the cosmic display of the Observation Window. Zed had wanted to be an astronomer but coming from the inner city, the money just wasn't there.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sam catches the titles of Jay's books and lets out a little laugh. Even here his work follows him.

"Sorry, laughing at my thoughts, not you." He says, just in case.

[runningred]

Jay raises an eyebrow but smilingly. "One of those moments?"

[notapilot]

"Work following me," he says with a gesture to the books and a friendly smile. "You reading up for a friend or yourself?"

[runningred]

"Therapist?" Jay asks curiously. "Myself. I... realised there's a few things I need to get a better handle on."

[notapilot]

"Counselor. I work with the VA helping veterans with PTSD adjust to civilian life again. Mostly I just listen but most often, that's what we need right? Just someone who understands."

"Sam Wilson," he says leaning over to offer his hand.

[runningred]

"Jay Todd." He shakes his hand firmly. "Sorry, I was too busy eyeing off your wings last time we met." He has a very good memory for faces, especially attached to really beautiful kit.

"I'm not exactly a vet but I get what you mean."

[notapilot]

"Oh yeah," Sam says with a nod. "Sorry, I'm usually better with faces but it's been a crazy few weeks for me."

His face turns a bit serious then. "I'm sad to say those wings are no more. Got taken out in an action and I doubt I'll get a chance to get another pair."

Then again, with Steve being buddy buddy with Tony Stark, you never know.

[runningred]

"Nah, it's all good. I can understand that. It's a real pity your wings got trashed. I'd be very keen to try building a set myself. Never know when something like that might come in handy."

[notapilot]

"That would be...that would be something," Sam replies with a hint of wistfulness. He hadn't realized how much the wing were a part of him until he was back in the air. Now that he's grounded, it's even worse.

"How about this, I help you out with any questions you might have, or lend an ear and any experience I might have to what ails you, in exchange for whatever wings you build? If you want to talk that is. Worse thing a body can do is be forced to talk when they don't want to."

"Or I could lend manual labor if none of that appeals."

[starrydome]

Elrond is not bearing coffee. He has never really warmed to that particular drink.
He is carrying a mug though, fragrant steam rising from it, and he is looking for a place to sit.

He may also have cast a furtive glance at the stack of books. Not that this particular combination of letters mean anything to him. The concept however will most certainly ring a bell.

[runningred]

"Pull up a seat, Elrond." Jay calls without looking up. "I'm not taking up that much of the table." He shuffles the books out of the way a bit.

[starrydome]

"Thank you," Elrond says and sits down, arranging his robes around him as he does so. Expertly.

He puts his mug down on the table and nods at the stack of books.
"And I will not disturb you?"

[runningred]

"Just doing some research. Nothing that can't wait." He puts in another bookmark in and puts the book aside.

[starrydome]

Elrond picks up his mug and takes a sip of tea.

"Milliways is a good place for that," Elrond agrees. "Uninterrupted time and a vast library."
If elves had a concept of heaven ...

[runningred]

"It's certainly been useful on this particular line of research." He gestures vaguely at the pile of books and orders some coffee.

[starrydome]

Elrond looks at the books again.
Then he looks at Jay.

"It's not a term I am familiar with," he says, "Men seem very fond of abbreviations."

[runningred]

"Post-traumatic stress disorder." Jay explains. "It use to be called Shell-shock."

[heatherandsteel]

Quentin is yawning, he knows he should go back and sleep but Milliways is good at distraction and keeping him from worrying too much about Toby.

He passes by Jay's table and waves on his way towards the counter. The past day or two have been long and it shows in his face.

[runningred]

Jay waves back, looking up from his book and stretching his neck, groaning softly as it cracks and pops. "If you're ordering coffee, can you get me one?"

[heatherandsteel]

"What kind do you like?" His is simple and Bar also provides a croissant for him and one for Jay.

[runningred]

"The Constantinople black. The Bar knows it." It appears as a small mug of very thick, very dark coffee. The sort you can stand a spoon up in.

[heatherandsteel]

Quentin piles the croissants and heads over with the coffees, looking for a place to set them down,

"What are you working on?"

[runningred]

Jay stacks the books, clearing some space and nodding his thanks. "Just some research. Some stuff I need to get a better handle on."

[heatherandsteel]

"Research can be good. Anything interesting? I'm waiting,"

None of the books are familiar to him, he looks at the titles as he puts everything down. There's strain around his eyes, Toby's been gone so long and he couldn't follow her when he should have found a way to.

[runningred]

"Dealing with Post Traumatic Shock Disorder." He explains. "And so far it's far too wishy washy to be of any help for anything." He snorts, sipping the caffeinated tar.

"You look like you should be sleeping rather than mainlining coffee?"