fandomtownies | The Park, Sunday Afternoon

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The Park, Sunday Afternoon

Rosalind's very specific headache had not gone anywhere after listening to radio.

Or after she'd spent three hours attempting to outline the beginnings of a draft for her first report to Tseng. (Actually, that had made it worse. She'd spent the time trying to think of a way to phrase 'my little sister is a) older than I am, b) crazy, and c) a Turk' without sounding like she should be locked away for her own safety.)

Another hour was spent slowly and carefully stretching out and seeing how she felt. Tired still; yesterday had taken a toll on her. Rosalind considered that for all of half a minute before forcing herself up off the floor and, with a quick check to make sure she looked tidy and was fully suited up, she left the room.

Then left the dorms. Rosalind was well aware that going particularly far or fast would be an abysmal idea. The doctors had been quite firm on that. (They would also have told her to keep her behind in a chair for another day but Rosalind was ignoring that much.) She was a Turk, she had to know the island.

Being a Turk had precious little to do with her fascination with the park when she came upon it, however, and her footsteps slowed further as she explored it, making sure to stick to the paths, and quietly drinking in the green.

[Ooopen as an open place is!]

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"Lots of it," he nodded and grabbed one without looking. Plain. Which was fine by him. "I'd leave a path of destruction. Last time it happened, they had to bring in homeland security. It wasn't pretty."

"My sympathies go to the security," she informed him, picking at the muffin. Now that she was sitting, she wasn't hungry. Tired more than anything. "Having to deal with you."

He stretched his legs out in front of him. "They should have known better than to let me get bored," he said airily and he took a bite from his muffin.

"How would they know? Did you give them warning?"

"Sure, I did," he nodded. "You already know and we just met."

"I do pity them," Rosalind decided. "And your roommate. How do they deal with you?"

"Bod's cool," Jacob chuckled. "Somehow puts up with my snoring and everything."

"Ear plugs," she decided, with a nod, and nibbled on the muffin.

"Not even," he chuckled. "Hey, people still talk to me so I can't be that bad. You haven't thrown the muffin at my head yet either."

She stared at him like he was crazy.

"That'd be a waste of food."

"Exactly," he chortled. "Even if you don't seem exactly convinced it's not poisoned."

"My apologies," she said stiffly. "I do not mean to offend."

He frowned and shook his head. "I'm just teasing you," he said. "It's fine. Don't worry."

Rosalind glanced sidelong at him, trying to think of what she was supposed to say to that.

"I... I don't get particularly hungry when I'm tired," she said, something of an explanation. And gave the muffin a nibble. It was a good muffin, after all. Her stomach was just... not into it.

And that left the door wide open and he leaned forward, making it easier to look at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," she said, which did answer his question. No, she wasn't particularly okay.

"Uh huh," he said, making it clear that no he wasn't dumb enough not to have noticed what she did there. "I won't tell if you fall asleep here," he joked.

"I wouldn't fall asleep in the open," she informed him. "It wouldn't be safe."

"Awwwww, you wouldn't trust me to keep you safe?" he joked, making it obvious that no, he wasn't expecting that of her. Not that it'd stop him if anything happened. "I'm hurt."

"You're an idiot," she said, taking a bite of her muffin. "Who would trust someone after two days of knowing they exist?"

"I am an idiot," he agreed with a laugh and he glanced away. "You probably shouldn't trust me, so there's that."

"Are you idiotic enough to tell me why I shouldn't trust you?" she asked, bemused by his acceptance of her appraisal.

"Nah, that'd ruin the fun of finding out," he grinned at her. He wondered if at some point he would just come out and say it. Sam had lifted his edict that forbade him to tell anyone, but it still was instinct to keep it close.

"You have a peculiar preoccupation with saying things are 'fun'," she noted, shaking her head. "Not everything is."

Not, mind, that she wouldn’t go looking for answers now. Rosalind’s curiosity was piqued.

"That's because you look like you need more of it," he teased and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm on the other side of the country from my friends with classes once every few days. I could sit around and just study, but I think my brain would rust and you wouldn't like me grumpy."

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