[She answers that just as blandly as when she called him a liar before, deciding not to watch him draw her blood. Clearly not concerned over needles, merely forcing herself not to second guess letting him take it at all.]
It only takes a moment and he's done, tucking the stoppered vial into an envelope, into his bag. Clearing up is a far less industrious process and obviously less of a habit.]
I'll give you a call if that flags anything up. [As if its her curiosity he's satisfying.] Have you eaten anything this morning?
[She doesn't answer him immediately. No one to hide them from is to the quick, and it's forced its way into her head now--(She had hidden many things to avoid Barbet's scorn. Always trying to hide what an animal she was becoming, the animal he was letting her become.) The frown is slight, and she responds distractedly,]
Not yet.
[It probably goes without saying that she's hungry.]
[Anything related to this man she's pining for rates highly among the pills he's unwilling to sugar. He's hardly naive enough to believe his words could shake her out of it - still.
He crouches by the chair, offering back her jacket and a fresh cloth for the still seeping punctures.]
[She lives in the past, the way the dead do. It's strange to be reminded of what the present is.
Carla takes the jacket, laying it across her legs for a moment while she reaches for him. They know perfectly well that she isn't going to say thank you, for any of this, but when she leans over, she approximates it well enough. Her kiss is brief before she's rocked up to her feet to pull her coat back on.]
Sounds good.
[She presses the napkin against her neck, waiting for him.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
too early;
[She answers that just as blandly as when she called him a liar before, deciding not to watch him draw her blood. Clearly not concerned over needles, merely forcing herself not to second guess letting him take it at all.]
too early;
[Is more to the point.
It only takes a moment and he's done, tucking the stoppered vial into an envelope, into his bag. Clearing up is a far less industrious process and obviously less of a habit.]
I'll give you a call if that flags anything up. [As if its her curiosity he's satisfying.] Have you eaten anything this morning?
too early;
Not yet.
[It probably goes without saying that she's hungry.]
too early;
He crouches by the chair, offering back her jacket and a fresh cloth for the still seeping punctures.]
Breakfast?
too early;
Carla takes the jacket, laying it across her legs for a moment while she reaches for him. They know perfectly well that she isn't going to say thank you, for any of this, but when she leans over, she approximates it well enough. Her kiss is brief before she's rocked up to her feet to pull her coat back on.]
Sounds good.
[She presses the napkin against her neck, waiting for him.]