[Yeah he's definitely not looking forward to taking a shower; water--especially warm water--on lacerations is not fun, and he knows that from a lot of experience. Some of that experience reminds him of one of yesterday's events, but he pushes that aside mentally for a moment.]
You don't seem fine.
[He can't really feel the effects of the illness since he's both pretty resilient when it comes to getting sick and he can't tell the symptoms apart from those caused by his injuries, but he's worried it could be serious for her. It surely doesn't help that she's had to deal with all the stress of everything that happened yesterday, too.]
[He makes a brief, exaggerated face of apprehension, then carefully pulls out the instant coffee packs from the cabinet.]
I'm not sure I'm going to want it.
[He's no coffee snob, but instant coffee is the lowest of the low. Still, he's going to do his best to drink it, because he can use the caffeine; once it's all mixed together he goes to take a seat at the table, because he's already reached the limits of wanting to stand for the moment.]
Help yourself to whatever's there, by the way.
[Food or other drinks or whatever; he should still have something edible somewhere that'll make an okay breakfast. He's not hungry himself though, yet, actually just a little nauseous from blood loss and the pain that's really kicking in the more he wakes up.]
[She laughs a little at the face, but as soon as he sits down and tells her to grab what she wants, she wrinkles her nose. It's probably a bad sign that she's not taking him up on that, but ugh, it sounds like a terrible idea. She plops down in one of the chairs instead.]
[He definitely notices that she doesn't get anything, and furrows his eyebrows at her; the look is obviously 'I'm on to you' but he doesn't call her out on it just yet.]
Is that why you said you didn't want any? You want me to taste-test it first and make sure it's safe?
[But despite the comments, he takes a sip and immediately makes another face, giving the mug a look like it tried to assassinate him. And then just takes another drink.]
[But after the comment he goes a little more somber again, and he taps his fingers against his mug; his mind is wandering again now that he's waking up more, going over the events of the day before and the conversation he and Kyna had. He's not sure he really wants to go into anything, but then again it's not like later would be better and the thought is already on his mind anyway.]
So um... About yesterday, and freaking out on you a little, it's kind of... Kind of a not-great story. So if you're not eating anything because you're nauseous, maybe it's actually a good time to explain.
[But although he brought it up, he's obviously hesitant about the whole thing. At this point he isn't at all worried about Kyna judging him or anything, it's just a really big thing to go into.]
[Oh. Well. She's not sure if he mentions the nausea thing as a joke or not, but her expression shifts to something more serious, and she tilts her head.]
It's okay. You can tell me. You're not gonna... you know. Freak me out or anything.
[He was half-joking and half gently calling her out, but just gives a quiet sigh at her statement; it is reassuring, but he has to take a moment to gather up his thoughts and figure out what to say and how to say it. He wants to tell her enough that it makes sense, but not go into any more detail than necessary.]
Okay. I... You know I'm adopted. But I wasn't adopted until I was six, and before that, I had... Really bad luck, in foster care.
[Thankfully, he knows his experience was not typical, and there are lots of kids who the system works for. But he was one of those that ended up on the horror story side of things.
He has to take another moment before he continues, gaze fixed on his terrible coffee, both so he can focus mentally and so he isn't looking at Kyna as he talks.]
The last home I was in before I was adopted was... There was a lot of violence, and one altercation caused scars that are very obviously not from an accident or something.
[He briefly lifts one hand from his mug to make a vague gesture toward his back and shoulders, still staring down at his drink.]
So I'm just really careful about not showing them, and that's why I reacted that way.
[He thought for a moment she wanted him to take off his shirt, and even though he knew--even at the time--that it would've been to help treat the injury, the reaction had just been reflexive.]
[She's quiet for a moment, gaze shifting down to his mug, because she doesn't want him to feel like she's staring at him. As much as Lance says she's good at talking through things, this is where she fumbles, when she starts overthinking and tries not to sound dismissive or too pitying. After a minute or so, she defaults to her natural language—she reaches for his hand, brushing her fingertips against his knuckles, not wanting to push if he doesn't want the contact.]
[He doesn't mind the contact, but he also doesn't react too much to it; he appreciates, though, the sentiment behind it.]
Yeah, he's been in prison ever since.
[And would probably actually be getting out soon, so there's one terrible benefit to being dead; unless Lance pulls off somehow getting back to his own world alive, at least won't have to deal with that nonsense.]
It's all... It's not okay, but my adoptive parents were really great people, and I had a lot of opportunities that most kids who deal with something like that don't. So it's about as okay as it can get.
[He's fine, at least most of the time, and she doesn't need to worry. He even manages to make eye contact again, trying to prove it.]
[She says it harshly, because she absolutely means it. She can't even imagine someone doing that to a kid, and picturing Lance makes it so much more heartbreaking. Honestly, she wishes she could kick the guy's ass.]
[His own tone is a little lighter, to go with his weak attempt at a joke, wanting to diffuse some of her intensity a little; he appreciates that she cares, but it's an awkward situation for him all the same.]
But the experience was... It was part of why I decided to become a psychologist. So some good, ultimately, came out of it.
[And that makes it worth it, in some aspect; being able to turn a part of his life that was so traumatic into something he can use to help people gives a meaning to a horror that was otherwise so senseless.]
[That prompts a faint but genuine smile, and this time he isn't embarrassed by the compliment. With this issue, it's much different than a remark about how bright he is, or talented, or anything else like that; this is something he truly had to work for, and is truly all him. And he's quietly proud of how far he's been able to come.]
Thank you.
[He says it softly and sincerely, but only allows another few moments of silence before taking a deep breath and sitting up a little straighter; he offers a slightly stronger smile, before giving his coffee a brief glance and then looking back up at Kyna again.]
Oh no, my horrible coffee is cold. It's a tragedy.
[It's clear that Lance doesn't want to get too in-depth on this issue, so she lets him switch subjects, rolling her eyes as he does. She trusts that if he needs to talk about it more, he will.]
Yeah right. That's like, a miracle or something. Maybe one of the gods just saved you.
[He says it lightly, going with the joke, but he also means it. He's not too impressed with the gods at the moment, not that he usually is, but they're also responsible for his injuries right now.
Speaking of, now that he's no longer concentrating on talking, he's feeling the pain again. But he tries to ignore it by shoving the coffee mug a little bit away from him, turning his focus onto Kyna.]
Are you sure you're feeling okay, though? You should probably eat something, even if it's not a lot.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Whatever. You can skip a shower now. And yeah, but it's fine.
[She's still feverish and dizzy, but she's trying to push through it. It's totally fine.]
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You don't seem fine.
[He can't really feel the effects of the illness since he's both pretty resilient when it comes to getting sick and he can't tell the symptoms apart from those caused by his injuries, but he's worried it could be serious for her. It surely doesn't help that she's had to deal with all the stress of everything that happened yesterday, too.]
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I'll go lay down if I feel shitty, okay? Stop worrying about me.
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I can't promise anything, but okay. Do you want some probably really terrible coffee?
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No thanks. You can have it all to yourself.
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I'm not sure I'm going to want it.
[He's no coffee snob, but instant coffee is the lowest of the low. Still, he's going to do his best to drink it, because he can use the caffeine; once it's all mixed together he goes to take a seat at the table, because he's already reached the limits of wanting to stand for the moment.]
Help yourself to whatever's there, by the way.
[Food or other drinks or whatever; he should still have something edible somewhere that'll make an okay breakfast. He's not hungry himself though, yet, actually just a little nauseous from blood loss and the pain that's really kicking in the more he wakes up.]
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Okay, so how gross is it? Are you gonna puke?
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Is that why you said you didn't want any? You want me to taste-test it first and make sure it's safe?
[But despite the comments, he takes a sip and immediately makes another face, giving the mug a look like it tried to assassinate him. And then just takes another drink.]
It's terrible but it's still coffee.
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Yep. It's like when royalty has taste testers, you know? I'm cuter, so you have to take the fall.
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[Let him be put out of his misery. Only not really, but you know.]
I don't think Sandy slept in my room, so did she torment you all night?
[Or did she behave herself? She's probably still asleep somewhere and that's the only reason she isn't being annoying.]
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We can have joint custody.
[But after the comment he goes a little more somber again, and he taps his fingers against his mug; his mind is wandering again now that he's waking up more, going over the events of the day before and the conversation he and Kyna had. He's not sure he really wants to go into anything, but then again it's not like later would be better and the thought is already on his mind anyway.]
So um... About yesterday, and freaking out on you a little, it's kind of... Kind of a not-great story. So if you're not eating anything because you're nauseous, maybe it's actually a good time to explain.
[But although he brought it up, he's obviously hesitant about the whole thing. At this point he isn't at all worried about Kyna judging him or anything, it's just a really big thing to go into.]
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It's okay. You can tell me. You're not gonna... you know. Freak me out or anything.
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Okay. I... You know I'm adopted. But I wasn't adopted until I was six, and before that, I had... Really bad luck, in foster care.
[Thankfully, he knows his experience was not typical, and there are lots of kids who the system works for. But he was one of those that ended up on the horror story side of things.
He has to take another moment before he continues, gaze fixed on his terrible coffee, both so he can focus mentally and so he isn't looking at Kyna as he talks.]
The last home I was in before I was adopted was... There was a lot of violence, and one altercation caused scars that are very obviously not from an accident or something.
[He briefly lifts one hand from his mug to make a vague gesture toward his back and shoulders, still staring down at his drink.]
So I'm just really careful about not showing them, and that's why I reacted that way.
[He thought for a moment she wanted him to take off his shirt, and even though he knew--even at the time--that it would've been to help treat the injury, the reaction had just been reflexive.]
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[She's quiet for a moment, gaze shifting down to his mug, because she doesn't want him to feel like she's staring at him. As much as Lance says she's good at talking through things, this is where she fumbles, when she starts overthinking and tries not to sound dismissive or too pitying. After a minute or so, she defaults to her natural language—she reaches for his hand, brushing her fingertips against his knuckles, not wanting to push if he doesn't want the contact.]
I'm sorry. Did it... Did anything happen to them?
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Yeah, he's been in prison ever since.
[And would probably actually be getting out soon, so there's one terrible benefit to being dead; unless Lance pulls off somehow getting back to his own world alive, at least won't have to deal with that nonsense.]
It's all... It's not okay, but my adoptive parents were really great people, and I had a lot of opportunities that most kids who deal with something like that don't. So it's about as okay as it can get.
[He's fine, at least most of the time, and she doesn't need to worry. He even manages to make eye contact again, trying to prove it.]
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[She says it harshly, because she absolutely means it. She can't even imagine someone doing that to a kid, and picturing Lance makes it so much more heartbreaking. Honestly, she wishes she could kick the guy's ass.]
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[His own tone is a little lighter, to go with his weak attempt at a joke, wanting to diffuse some of her intensity a little; he appreciates that she cares, but it's an awkward situation for him all the same.]
But the experience was... It was part of why I decided to become a psychologist. So some good, ultimately, came out of it.
[And that makes it worth it, in some aspect; being able to turn a part of his life that was so traumatic into something he can use to help people gives a meaning to a horror that was otherwise so senseless.]
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You're pretty awesome, you know that, right?
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Thank you.
[He says it softly and sincerely, but only allows another few moments of silence before taking a deep breath and sitting up a little straighter; he offers a slightly stronger smile, before giving his coffee a brief glance and then looking back up at Kyna again.]
Oh no, my horrible coffee is cold. It's a tragedy.
[Such a tragedy.]
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Yeah right. That's like, a miracle or something. Maybe one of the gods just saved you.
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[He says it lightly, going with the joke, but he also means it. He's not too impressed with the gods at the moment, not that he usually is, but they're also responsible for his injuries right now.
Speaking of, now that he's no longer concentrating on talking, he's feeling the pain again. But he tries to ignore it by shoving the coffee mug a little bit away from him, turning his focus onto Kyna.]
Are you sure you're feeling okay, though? You should probably eat something, even if it's not a lot.
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Ugh, God, no way. I'll puke.
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What about just some water?
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