Thorns

[dead_serious]

[ William stands in the senior doctor's office, Alan sitting in the chair beside him. They've just been informed on how dire the attack Alan suffered by the desperate woman's record will be upon him. William simply nods in understanding, turning from the doctor and offering Alan a hand to stand. With Alan being both mentally and physically exhausted from the event, William makes the decision to teleport them to his office. Better to make it easy on the younger reaper and avoid any interaction with the other members of Dispatch while they can. ]

Take a seat, Humphries.

[ William does, as well, quietly observing him from his own seat behind his desk. ]

How are you feeling?

Comments

[dead_serious]

[ He'd been there for Alan's diagnosis, watched all those tears fall from him as the severity of his illness was spelt out by the doctor. For someone so unused to consoling, he'd felt, well, not so much awkward as out of place. If Alan had reached out to him for some form of hug or other physical comfort, William isn't sure he would have even known how to respond. The fact bothers him in a perplexing way, one he isn't certain he can decifer. For now, though no more tears are falling, William pulls a clean handkerchief from his inner pocket, offering it to his co-worker. ]

Perhaps I should have stated so a long time ago.

[amongthethorns]

[He gave a breathless laugh, taking that square of fabric. He doesn't dab it at his eyes, instead Alan was using it to clean his glasses. Meticuously focused on the habit the almost ritual of making certain they were properly cleaned after his crying.]

Don't worry about that. You've said it now and I've gotten to hear it. That's all that matters.

[Finishing cleaning his lenses he slips them back in place neatly refolding that handkerchief that he offers back to his senior. There were so many things he hadn't said himself and now well - Was there a point? He didn't think so. It would only hurt people in the end.]