gabriel_tam | (no subject)

(no subject)

The room is fairly nice, all things considered. There are several chairs, a porta-cot set up discreetly against one wall for visitors that for one reason or another are reluctant to leave, and it's clear that whoever designed this particular private room in the first place intended to make it seem as warm and welcoming as possible.

Of course, given that it's a hospital, there's really only so much that can be done.

Currently, the hospital bed is tilted upwards at an angle, with the evident intention of making the patient comfortable. It seems to be working, at least a little, because Gabriel Tam is asleep.

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"Good to hear." With a crooked smile. "And I'm doin' all right. -- oh, hey." Kaylee eyes him a little. "Should you be talkin'?"

"Quite possibly not, but as no one has informed me otherwise..."

Gabriel grins, and then winces as the slashes on his cheek pull.

"... it doesn't hurt to talk, at least. Or not much."

"Just so long as neither of us is gonna get yelled at whenever somebody comes in -- and as long as it's not, you know, hurtin' you too much." Hastily. "So -- you'll let me know, right? If it is?"

"I will, Kaylee. You have my word."

He shifts slightly, settling back against the bed.

"It was nice of you to come."

"Hospitals are awful," she says. Blunt. "People comin' helps. And -- you know, we're worried, like to see for myself you're okay. You feelin' good enough to be bored yet?"

"I've been sleeping a lot," he evades.

It's an answer in and of itself.

"But I'll be fine."

"...which is a no." She shakes her head. "Well -- that's even more of an excuse."

She holds up the book she's got; the hardcover is tattered, with threads coming off the edges and the binding, and whatever picture was on the cover isn't visible any longer.

"On loan." A small smile. "Belonged to my mother, and she let me have it when I left home -- good stories, for readin' and for readin' aloud. It's as much a part of gettin' over bein' sick or hurt as whatever awful-tastin' medicine they got in mind for you. And you can guilt people into readin' to you, too. That part's fun."

Gabriel's eyes widen, and several seconds of silence go by.

"Kaylee, I --"

A beat.

"I don't know what to say. Thank you."

She shrugs a little, uncomfortably. "It's nothin', really -- just that it helped me, when I was laid up. Always has." She nods to the bedside table. "And plants -- I don't know, it's just the kind of thing you do." Kaylee grins. "I wonder how come that is?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say to brighten the hospital room," Gabriel says dryly. "Or perhaps to remind people that there's life elsewhere."

Kaylee looks around the room. "It could be worse," she says, philosophically. "But -- not much like home, no."

"I'll have to agree with that."

Gabriel sighs, and shifts slightly, wincing a little as he does.

"I'll certainly be glad to get out of here."

Her glance sharpens a little with worry. "Anybody talkin' timeline for that yet?"

"In a word, no."

Which says a lot about how badly hurt he truly is, Gabriel knows.

He doesn't like it one bit.

She'd ask if that means he hasn't asked, or if nobody's said --

But the way he responded is enough to warn Kaylee off.

"Well," lightly. "Reckon that means you can have time to know the folks here -- seem nice, if maybe a little busy."

"I suppose so."

There's something wearily resigned about that, and Gabriel glances toward the door.

"They do seem to stay on the move."

"...and you wish they didn't?"

"No, it's not that --"

A little too quickly, and he visibly takes a moment to regain his verbal balance before finishing,

"--I just don't like being... stuck... in places like this."

It's a moment before she replies; she reaches out, straightens one of the paper umbrellas in the soil.

When she does reply, it's quiet. "You think maybe -- is there somethin' anybody can do to make you feel less stuck?"

"You've already done it-- you're still doing it," Gabriel tells her, with a small smile.

He nods at the plants and the book, without looking away from her.

"Xiexie."

Kaylee immediately looks awkward. "It's nothin', really, just -- more on a longer-term basis, I meant."

"Hopefully I won't be here long enough for that to become an issue," he says dryly.

"Hopefully," she agrees, and falls silent.

The silence lasts for several seconds, broken only by the soft hiss of oxygen from the plastic cabling that runs discreetly from the wall to the cannula Gabriel's wearing.

When he speaks again, his voice sounds louder simply due to having broken the hush.

"I'm very glad you weren't there, Kaylee."

Under any other circumstances --

It'd be hard not to take that as an insult, wouldn't it? And a little surprise shows on her face, but it's clear enough what he means by it, and she can't say she disagrees at all.

"Me too." Quiet, and a little rueful. "And I wondered what you'd think when I wasn't there, but -- hindsight's good, and all."