She makes for a pretty picture from where he's sitting on the bed: the cut of her shoulders and her fingers on the glass, the view (though from this angle he can't see much of it) beyond her. Seeing her so obviously enamored with the city takes some of the edge off the lingering discomfort from being cooped up on the train from London and he studies her for the long silence that follows, absently rubbing his leg in some vague attempt to work out the stiffness in the muscle.
"It's all right." Which it mostly is. He expects he won't feel too hot once the percocet wears off - whatever Chloe has planned, the day is likely going to rack up more mileage on it -, but it doesn't matter. Not really. He doesn't want to talk about his bastard leg. "We going out, or do you just want to stare at it all day?"
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She makes for a pretty picture from where he's sitting on the bed: the cut of her shoulders and her fingers on the glass, the view (though from this angle he can't see much of it) beyond her. Seeing her so obviously enamored with the city takes some of the edge off the lingering discomfort from being cooped up on the train from London and he studies her for the long silence that follows, absently rubbing his leg in some vague attempt to work out the stiffness in the muscle.
"It's all right." Which it mostly is. He expects he won't feel too hot once the percocet wears off - whatever Chloe has planned, the day is likely going to rack up more mileage on it -, but it doesn't matter. Not really. He doesn't want to talk about his bastard leg. "We going out, or do you just want to stare at it all day?"