@ferrisnotbueller
gemma has always considered herself to be in control of her emotions; in control enough, at least, for there to be a lack of them. but after the fight in the van last night — one that for her and many others in the crew ended when she kicked ferris and cole out on the street to walk home — she’s been plagued by a sense of unease that comes not just from her usual nerves. she doesn’t want to say she’s concerned, exactly, but... there’s something nagging at the back of her mind. truth be told, she faults everyone and no one at all for the fight at the same time; but beyond anything else, she feels she should not have reacted as she had. these are people she’s meant to be working with — she needs, if not to get along with them, then at the very least be able to tolerate them. she lets out a heavy sigh as she trudges away from the kitchen with her overly sweetened coffee, catching sight of ferris by one side of the warehouse. she draws in a breath, then approaches. “hey,” she greets with a quirk of her brow. how are you? sorry about yesterday. i hope you’re doing alright. the words stick in her throat, apologies and concerns faltering on her tongue. “you’re not dead,” she ends up saying instead, crassly. not that she’d at all doubted ferris would make it back alright, but it seemed that was the only thing her mouth could manage.