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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Her head immediately turns to the table. The cup of water there is empty.

She closes the book, leaves it on the chair, and goes to the sink off in the corner -- there as discreetly as it can be, but -- it's still a hospital room, isn't it.

The sound of running water is quiet; she tests the stream with her thumb first to make sure it's cold.

His coughing is louder now, and then suddenly breaks off-- followed by a soft, weary curse.

He hasn't seen her yet.

Her shoulders stiffen a little at the sound, but --

When Kaylee turns around, cup of water in hand, she's smiling. Quiet: "Got a ways to go before you get up to standard quality of cussin' out portside -- 'cause it's not like it changes much, from place to place -- but that's a pretty good effort."

She's standing by the side of his bed. "This ought to help some, I'm thinkin'?"

He startles, visibly, but then relaxes and smiles ruefully up at her.

"Kaylee. Hello. It's good to see you."

A beat.

"You're right, I think. Xiexie ni."

"My pleasure. You need help, or -- you okay with it?"

Being all business about this -- being matter-of fact, he's bad off, everybody's on edge, might as well acknowledge it -- it'll help. It usually does.

"I'm sure I can manage," he says, automatically-- and then seems to hear himself.

Gabriel sighs, very slightly, and adds,

"But I wouldn't turn down an offer of assistance."

She laughs a little. "Consider it made, and now we got that out of the way -- "

The cup goes on the bedside table again when he's done; she picks up her book and reclaims her seat. "And I'm guessin' you're sick of people askin' you how you're feelin' by this point." Wry.

"You'd have the experience to know," he says, just as wryly.

"But -- it's not as bad as it was, at any rate." A pause. "How are you?"

"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?"