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“You’re gonna be okay.”
It had been a long sleepless night, wrought with anxiety, which led to a miserable and cranky morning. Holly sat at the table, slouched forward against it, one arm stretched across to the other side, with a cup of coffee in the other hand.
She looked up at him briefly, without lifting her head, then went back to staring at the wall, “Been five years since I was okay. Don’t seem like I’m gonna get back there again.”
“Looking for something?”
“Someone,” she corrected, scouting around for a familiar face. “You seen a guy with black hair and a killer smile around here? Goes by Galloway,” she asked, looking over at Baptiste. “He was supposed to meet me here.”
“You looking for trouble?“
“What? No,” Nixon replied with a shake of her head as she briefly looked him over. “I’m looking for a Boomer? I might have a job for him, and I was told he’d be around here somewhere.”
“I didn’t know you were the cuddling type.”
“I’m usually not, but you’re hot and I’m cold,” she replied, and as if to emphasize her point, she snuggled closer to Baptiste, even going so far as to moving her legs so they were draped over his thighs. “I fucking hate winter,” she mumbled against his shoulder before burying her face in the fabric of his shirt.
👎 (if you wanna?)
“Fuck’s sake, these assholes. Seen firebug recruits like this in our grenadiers. They’re like addicts - need a bigger high every time until they blow off their goddamn hands. Shame it hasn’t happened yet, but it will.”
Baptiste Caron. Just a Boomer living his best life.
“It’s getting crowded. Here, hold my hand.”
It had taken no time of all for Holly to become thoroughly tired of broth. Instamash was slightly better, but she had never cared for Old World boxed foods. Although they had never really appealed to her before, she had decided that she wanted some noodles. Baptiste had kindly offered to go along with her, and it had gone well enough -- even the noodles had gone down fairly well, with hardly any pain -- until the marketplace was suddenly swarming with people.
“I’m alright, let’s just --” a stranger ran into her as they made their way back to the Dugout, causing her to stagger sideways. She stood still for a moment, trying to reorient herself while not getting in anyone else’s way. When Baptiste offered his hand she took it in an instant, and gave a quick nod, grateful that she’d not gone out on her own.
“i made you some soup, and i’m going to sit here until you eat it. i can wait.”
“Y’know, I ain’t refusin’ to eat,” Holly began, offering a tired scowl as she pulled the bowl towards her, slowly stirring the steaming contents. A half truth. The nausea put her off food for a while, but once it was gone she did her best, “I just...ain’t real good at it right now.”
