Ah....[Cue one quizzical little stare as she tries to match up the description with the name. One of these things is not like the other; one of these things just doesn't belong.]
Starting to think you might know a different Sonya, here.
[He gestures to his tablet, sitting on a half of a table in the front room. Walking over, he pages to the appropriate threads--both from his post, and from his own messages.]
Oh Christ. [She pinches her brow once she's done-- once the reality of it seeps in.] Tell you what I'll do us all a favor and send out a mass transport memo to stop the teenage romantics.
Oi, easy sweetheart. [Chloe closes the distance between them without hesitation, brushing back a few stray strands that he's missed with those clawed gauntlets of his.] Know it's cliche to say it, but...it'll pass.
[He leans against her hand, instinctively. It's such a nice, gentle gesture, and he's so grateful for it. But he's still shaking, trembling now, all over.]
[He earns himself her full attention with that, and the continued scuff of her fingertips against his scalp.]
Well optimism's never been my strong suit but I'd say that for all this nonsense aside you've plenty of people in your life willing to take a bullet for you.
Okay, you know what-- [There's the edge of exhaustion in her voice when she starts, patience waning despite the fact that it's still winning out.] I know we've had our rough spots but I like to think you're not about to forget what good I have done.
This may sound odd but I am sending this to see how you are doing, and I sincerely hope it is better, rather than still going mental in the bloody snow.
Oh stop. [It's gentle-- suddenly so-- when Chloe moves to settle down beside him. His inherent chill versus the warmth of her fingers as they find a spot across the bulk of his shoulder.
Doesn't matter if he wants contact or not. He's getting it.] That isn't true.
[He honestly can't think of anyone else. And Martin is outside of that distinction; Martin is not his friend, Martin is his -- not his child, exactly, but certainly not his friend. Something else entirely.
Well, [If that's the right of it, and she's not entirely convinced if only because elves are drama queens in the general sense though his reasons are justified:] I've spent more than a few years of my life alone, and I've got to say-- grossly optimistic as it may sound-- it's never too late to start over.
[He's in his right mind again, and likely to remain there for the foreseeable future, but he still doesn't understand why this woman would contact him.
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