doggedly | a very magical inbox! pt II

[She shows up a little while later, looking a bit worse for wear, carrying a blanket with her. She's afraid and she wants some comfort but she won't say that - she won't say how afraid she is that the Jump won't happen, and they're all going to die, and very soon.

She knocks once, and covers her head with her blanket.]

[Where the two of them stand is still a little bit of a mystery to Sirius, but overthinking it wouldn't do anyone any good, and so he's just sort of-- not thought about it, at all, as best as he can.

The mild crisis helps. 'Worrying' is even lower than 'overthinking', on his list of pastimes, but there is an atmosphere of apprehension over the whole ship, one that is rather difficult to avoid.

So he opens the door to Sera and her blanket cloak, when she knocks, but he doesn't offer up an embrace or kiss of greeting or anything. He's on more uncertain footing, especially when they're face-to-face, but he's still sympathetic, and he still sort of wants to kiss her, just-- not going to admit any of that. At all.

Instead, he steps aside to let her in.]

C'mon.

[some people are saying that of course the Jump will happen, and maybe Seraphim's paranoia is unfounded, but it's not easy to set aside a worry like that. That overshadows how she feels about Sirius at this moment, meaning she, too, isn't sure how they stand, especially after the other day. But she doesn't seem offended or bothered by the casual greeting and comes through the door and heads for his bed.

She nests there; it only takes her a moment.]

My piano is broken.

What?

[Wizards have pianos. And they can break as well, of course--there's strings and things in them, and legs that can snap off, and-- all sorts of bits, keys and things. But the way that it's written out seems-- bigger, than a snapped string.

He doesn't follow straightaway, but considers her from across that short distance.]

Broken how?

[She doesn't seem upset he isn't next to her, at the very least.]

All the strings snapped.

[It's not like she has replacements, or someone to come tune it. All she has is a piano that doesn't work. She burrows deeper.]

I can't believe we're not moving.

[Maybe that's the real reason she's here.]

[How the hell did that happen, he starts to ask, but she's writing something else before he can.]

Yeah. Well.

[It's not very uplifting. He shoves away from the door and crosses to the bed, dropping down on it heavily.]

People have said we ought to try the bridge.

[A pause.]

It's never worked before.

[She wants to ask if he thinks they're all going to die, and decides that no, that isn't a good thing to bring up. Instead she reaches for his arm, to cling bit, but in a way that she can still write.]

But it's better than sitting back and waiting to see if we still go through the Jump.

There won't be anything there.

[But he doesn't pull away from her. He gives his arm over to her instead--or, really, doesn't protest when she takes it, just gives her a glance before he looks away once more.]

There wasn't last time.

[That's a little terrifying. That there might not be anything they can do. She sits there, for a moment, quiet, and realizes she's glad they made up, somehow, no matter what their relationship is now. If they're going to die next week, she's glad that they've sorted some of this out.]

I'm going to help engineering.

[Just because he doesn't know what to do doesn't mean that he's giving up. Far from it. At Sera's declaration, he looks at her, searchingly.]

Doing what?

I don't know. Upper level math, maybe. Something useful. It's better than sitting around and doing the math for long we would survive with the oxygen supply on board, if the Jump does replenish it.

[It's something she's spent a lot of time thinking about.]

[And how long is that, he doesn't ask.]

Do they need a lot of those? Upper level maths? [And, actually--] Why not join up?

[She shrugs a bit. The honest truth is she doesn't know, but she does know that there are mathematical equations that she knows that could be valuable, if they don't have them programmed in.]

I don't do well with schedules like that.

I don't know if you noticed, I'm a little crazy.

[He huffs a breath that sounds nearly like a laugh.]

Yeah, maybe.

[Maybe he's noticed, maybe she's crazy. The latter can probably be upgraded to definitely more than maybe, but it's not as if he's given any of it very much thought.]

I think there's people more mad than you. Here, and elsewhere. Anyway, I don't think they'd care about scheduling.

[Being able to admit it, that's more than progress.]

I don't think I'm much of a team player. But, I don't know. I guess I'll see how it goes.

Ah, but fortunately for you, it's working, not playing.

[That's a joke, sort of, and he crooks a smile at her.]

I wouldn't ask you to be on any team of mine. I bet you're crap at sports.

[She turns her head, then, gives him a look.]

Joke's on you. I'm excellent at baseball.

Is it, 'cos I don't even know what the hell baseball is.

[Nor does he care.]

Wait, hang on-- that's the one that's got one ball, and one club, yeah? Loads of running in circles?

[That isn't surprising, really. Not because he's a wizard, but because he's English.]

Yes. I have a mean swing.

[She lets go long enough to mimic a swing.]

[He laughs.]

Right, well. You show me baseball, and I'll show you quidditch. Which won't be half as good, 'cos our sad little broomsticks can't get near the power of, say, a Nimbus, and we won't be able to enchant the balls the way that they ought to be enchanted.

But it'll still be better than base ball.

[Maybe that feels good, not just because he invited her to fly again, and because he's-

It feels like something more, doesn't it?]

Okay, I'll show you. We can find a ball and eighteen people to play, I bet it wouldn't be hard.

If you can find eighteen people willing to play such a boring game then, yeah. I expect it won't be too hard to play.

[Sorry not sorry. Surely it's a good sign that he's taking the piss out of her for her choice in sports.]

[She hits him, lightly, on the leg, but there's a smile on her face. This is easy. This feels like how it felt, back, before.]

You get to hit things, you can appreciate that.

[He permits the hit from her, with good humour, and not so much as a wince or a downtick in his sceptiscim of the coolness of base ball.]

Please. In my favourite sport, I get to hit people. Sorry if I'm not as impressed as you think I ought to be.

Too bad I never played hockey.

[That would be Sirius' sport, she thinks, if he were not magical. Or rugby. Something where ramming into people was a genuine part of the game.]

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