[It's nobody's fault she doesn't know, Tim thinks, except Bruce's. He debates it, ultimately falling back into the greatest comfort of acquiescence and he reaches over her, her body, to lightly brush his fingers over Girl Dog's ears. The gesture is as fluid as him lowering himself back against the mattress- and by extension, Kate's back- but he hopes it shows-
his hands aren't wandering.
His heart's in his throat and to lie down makes him want to move away. But Girl Dog's ears are soft, and Tim boops her nose, and Girl doesn't snap at his hand. She's a good dog.]
I'll find you. [The truth, difficult and thorny, in this moment is easy to handle.] I work... with teams of detectives. It's what I do. [--] You know. [A clumsy attempt at levity:] In my free time.
[He'll continue burning that candle at both ends. When had he stopped caring about being reduced to a puddle instead of burning bright? Tim blanks at the answer, so it can't have been important anyway.
He lays his head on one arm, bent up over one pillow. The hand that had been fluttering across Girl (and poking at Merry too) retreats. Tim finds a soft grip on the comforter and pulls it a little higher over Kate. She's so cold.
He needs to get someone, he realizes. He should have listened and left- and fetched Wynonna from somewhere in this cabin or even one of the men- (no).
Girl Dog buries her nose in the crook of Kate's elbow, apparently feeling a little cold too. Tim, miserable and idiotic, points out bluntly,] I don't know her name. I called her Dog. But then I learned she was a girl.
no subject
his hands aren't wandering.
His heart's in his throat and to lie down makes him want to move away. But Girl Dog's ears are soft, and Tim boops her nose, and Girl doesn't snap at his hand. She's a good dog.]
I'll find you. [The truth, difficult and thorny, in this moment is easy to handle.] I work... with teams of detectives. It's what I do. [--] You know. [A clumsy attempt at levity:] In my free time.
[He'll continue burning that candle at both ends. When had he stopped caring about being reduced to a puddle instead of burning bright? Tim blanks at the answer, so it can't have been important anyway.
He lays his head on one arm, bent up over one pillow. The hand that had been fluttering across Girl (and poking at Merry too) retreats. Tim finds a soft grip on the comforter and pulls it a little higher over Kate. She's so cold.
He needs to get someone, he realizes. He should have listened and left- and fetched Wynonna from somewhere in this cabin or even one of the men- (no).
Girl Dog buries her nose in the crook of Kate's elbow, apparently feeling a little cold too. Tim, miserable and idiotic, points out bluntly,] I don't know her name. I called her Dog. But then I learned she was a girl.
So I've been calling her Girl Dog.