Anonymous 2018/10/20 (Sat) 18:13 No. 66992 ▼
I apologize for bumping this but is there supposed to be a vote or anything?
summerfag 2018/10/20 (Sat) 18:20 No. 66993 ▼ >>66992
Not yet, but it's coming. I post snippets early to try and keep at least a little bit of forward momentum.
Summerfield 2018/11/04 (Sun) 04:43 No. 67074 ▼
… … …
You find Eri commandeering the chairs outside the examination room, laptop balanced on her knees. A sheet of paper marked with arcane surgeon’s scrawl rests over the right half of the screen, bearing a crease mark down the middle to keep it from curling over. She collates it with a stack of others as you approach, closing her laptop and sandwiching the papers inside.
“Yo.” You wave as you make your way over. “Not in your office?” you remark. It’s not a question; you’re long familiar with her habit of turning up here and there around the base, using physical shifts in perspective to break out of mental holding patterns—so she explained it.
Eri gathers her hands together, resting them atop the machine, and looks up at you with a quiet resignation.
You muster up a friendly smile, holding it out as an olive branch. “Did it work out? I mean— worked out for my end, but for you?” you chatter. “Get any useful data, or? What’d the surgeon say?—”
“Iris,” she says, finally.
You give her the time she needs to put her words in order.
She continues. “I . . . more than anything else, I’m relieved there were no complications. And I should thank you for having endured under— such extemporised preparations.” She pauses, voice dwindling near to a whisper. “If . . . you feel that I—if I have
—crossed any boundaries, I’m prepared—”
“No; uh, hey.” You hold up a hand. “Slow down a sec’?”
Eri stares at you, dark eyes laid bare.
“I— look— I don’t mind
,” you say.
“Iris,” she murmurs. “You—”
“I really don’t. Not when the alternative is, what, half a dozen screws—”
“Iris.” It’s a more familiar tone, now: the one she takes when she thinks you might end up getting hurt. “That is not the issue at hand, here.”
“I know, but— look, there’s . . . something bigger on the radar right now, so— just take
it,” you blurt, closing your eyes as the immediate wave of regret washes over you.
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