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House 1411

"Hello? Hello?? I'm sorry, there's nobody home right now. [ obnoxious peal of laughter: go ]

Ahh, that's right! Leave a message, and I'll get back to you. Right? That's how it goes? Aha, no telemarketers, please!

If you run up my bill, I'll have to ask you to pay the extra costs.

[ BEEP ]

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Oh--

[the hand, she'd almost forgotten, looks down at it as if surprised to find it in the state it's in. crack open the landlord's head for me, badou had told her, that was how she could help, and carol had certainly tried. couldn't get to the house, though, couldn't do anything but find something to take it all out on. several defenseless trees had suffered. so had she.

she sits, shifts, stretches out her fingers. still bleeding a little, not badly.]

Not broken, I don't think. It's gonna bruise something fierce, though.

[ bruised knuckles, bleeding fingers, it's a sight he's familiar with. it speaks a little of frustration and a little more of helplessness, the bewilderment at one's own predicament, the inability to change it. he's seen it in friends, in his crew, in the war. (other hands, strangers' hands, his own hands aching and hurting and never enough.) ]

At least it'll do so without infection, eh?

[ it's a first-aid kit he retrieves from the cabinet, after a moment's rummaging, small and white and neat and professional. it's a wonder that he knows what to pick out, when he pops it open on his way back to carol's side. ]

Do I want details?

I beat up a forest.

[she musters a small smile for him as she holds out the injured hand for tending, leaning her face on the other one, elbow on knee.]

It had it coming. Sorry about all this.

[that last is quiet, subdued. sakamoto has become the one carol leans on, and honestly she's lucky to have anyone at all; without him, she's sure she would've broken down by now, more than once. still, it's hard, and she hates it -- being that helpless.]

[ he kneels down before her, kit balanced on a knee while he looks over her hand, gets to work. disinfection, a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic, each touch light and taken with care. he cradles the hand in his own, calloused palm upward. ]

All that talk about being environmentally friendly, out the window. For shame.

[ his tone is light, though, gently teasing, an attempt at good humour. ]

[the antiseptic stings, but carol's nothing if not accustomed to a little pain; she doesn't even wince, just watches him work, notes those callouses, all with great interest.

and takes the bait, smile growing that fraction warmer, more sincere.]

The public can never know about this, you realize. Think of my reputation. They'd fire me on the spot.

[absurdly, she remembers the first time they'd spoken, the ridiculous, apropos-of-nothing marriage proposal. and now here he is, taking a knee, her left hand held delicately in his. ha.

things come full circle in the strangest ways.]

[ he'd call it fate, if he even had the mind to think about it now. all he's focused on now is the task at hand, focus narrowed in at the hand in his and the scrapes gracing the knuckles.

truth be told, he may not even recall the conversation, their very first, the proposition so easily delivered.

funny, how it works out. ]

Who else would take your spot, though? The Amazing Flying Carol? Toushirou?

[ the thought brings a smile to his lips, a faint little hah of laughter. ]

[carol goes the extra mile and snorts at that image, the very picture of a proper lady.]

The man wouldn't look too bad in spandex, but that's about the only point in his favor. Mine are big shoes to fill.

[that, and she suspects that hijikata wouldn't take too well to flying, a suspicion she intends to test at the earliest opportunity.]

I'd rather you take it. You'd at least appreciate it.

That is the last thing I ever wanted to imagine Toushirou wearing, please.

[ his expression is long-suffering, however brief. it doesn't last long before eyes drop again, intent on the wrapping of her hand, firm and gentle, always surprising for a man as explosive and jittery as he. ]

I'd be called the Great Hurling Afro, probably. Announcing my arrival with a rain of that day's lunch. It'd be an instant hit.

Gimmicks are very popular.

[the sting is dying down, making way for a dull ache -- and not just in her knuckles. carol is some dark degree of heartsick, has been so for a while in this place, but it was never so stark until tonight.

she pushes it down, tries to keep it at bay and out of her expression as her gaze finds sakamoto's working hands again.]

I think you'd make a pretty good one.

[a pretty good hero.]

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