[open] can somebody please just tie me down

[thereneverwas]

WHO: Barrow + you
WHAT: Bedrest and recuperation from Awful Things
WHEN: August
WHERE: mostly the Gallows
NOTES: I'll make starters if people want 'em

I.
Bedrest is ideal for people who like to read, or sleep, or sit around pondering life's mysteries. Although Barrow likes sleep as much as the next person, and reading is fine, he has little use for life's mysteries and finds more often than not that he is simply staring at the ceiling and unfairly wishing ill on the medic who impressed on him the need for his joints to mend this way.
He is, perhaps, a little grumpier than usual, but also absolutely desperate for any form of stimulation, so visitors are welcome. Especially if they have treats.

II.
When he's up and about again, Barrow knows better than to go straight to the training pitch and start swinging his hammer around, so instead he defaults to the more leisurely activity of ferrying off to the nearest pub and parking himself there to absorb whatever jollity is occurring at the moment.
He probably drinks too much, especially now, with so much going through his mind; but it's hard to help it, when there's very little else to do and so much he doesn't want to think about. At least he's a pleasant and agreeable drunk, not all that different from when he's sober, but with the sort of absent-minded nihilism that has historically made him either a good lay or a recipient for one's woes. He's rather more open to the latter these days, though the former has its place, at least for the right person.

Comments

[tender]

Okay, bunny.

"Because someone should be making sure she's alright."

Not necessarily Barrow's responsibility, considering his injuries and how taxing recovery must have been, but.

"I don't forgive you," she says, because she has to. Because there's nothing else for her to say. But her expression has softened slightly as she continues, "But I know what you were trying to do while we were down there. And I appreciate it."

[thereneverwas]

He could ask why Derrica hasn't looked in on her, especially since he's been confined to a bed for a full week before now, but it seems pointless to pick a fight when all he truly wants to do is be as at peace with the people around him as any of them can manage.

Then, of course, Derrica speaks again, and Barrow is unable to mask that it stings. For one, he hadn't asked to be forgiven; for another, he's only slightly more aware of what he even needs to be forgiven for.

"S'pose that's all I can ask," he murmurs, taking a drink from his tankard.

[tender]

"I wouldn't have let them kill you."

Not that she could have prevented it. But if there'd been a choice, if she could have bartered her loyalties to keep him and Poesia safe, she would have. It doesn't matter much now. She didn't have to say any of this at all, but it feels necessary.

With that, she gets to her feet. It feels as if that's all that really needs to pass between them. But—

"You shouldn't drink so much, you know. You're still healing."

[thereneverwas]

"I-- appreciate that," Barrow stammers, carefully schooling his smile into a more serious expression. It's fortunate they didn't have to find this out the hard way, but it's nice to know. Derrica has his back after all.

He won't rub it in.

Glancing from his ale back to her, his smile is playful but restrained. "Is it not medicine?"

[tender]

"Not the kind I think will be helpful."

But she can't begrudge him the alcohol. They all cope in their own way.

"Try not to hurt yourself," Derrica says as she steps away. "Sister Sara won't put up with it."

Sister Sara is maybe a quarter of Barrow's height, and yet.

[thereneverwas]

He follows Derrica with his gaze as she takes her leave, and doesn't stop her. Not a bad sort, that one.