open.

[tender]

WHO: Derrica + OTA
WHAT: Office Hours
WHEN: Guardian
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Drop in, door's open.

There is nothing technically wrong with the Project Haven conference room and office. They are orderly, without any tangible sign of the intentions of their former owner.

Still, Derrica has thrown open the single window in the office wide in spite of the cold. There is a small crate just beside the doorway between office and conference room, where Derrica has been pitching anything she finds questionable. (Chantry texts to be relocated to records or the chapel, small items that might be personal affects, or are simply not to her taste.) She's left the doors open behind her, the one leading into the conference room, the one leading into the corridor, and the one leading into the Forces and Diplomacy workspaces as well, as if to promote circulation to the highest degree possible.

What comes after the cleaning is something Derrica is still working out.

She's never had an office. She's yet to even sit down at her allotted desk in the Forces workroom. But here she is, and she make something of the space. It's expected, she's certain.

Her hands are full of Chantry hymnals when the sound of footsteps pulls her attention from them.

"Watch out for the box," is her first, immediate word of caution. It's only partly blocking the doorway, but just enough to be a hazard to the unsuspecting.

Welcome to Project Haven. Don't mind the momentary clutter.

Comments

[notathreat]

Seeing the hesitation, Ellie's smile widens, and she gives Derrica a gentle, fond nudge as she takes the book, hooking them under one arm and glancing down at the titles, curious. All Chantry texts and things like it. Ugh, these were probably his.

"You bet. You got anything in mind?"

[tender]

"They're going to the chapel," Derrica says, a soft squeeze of her now-freed hand at Ellie's elbow, before she continues, "And I don't know. Something that makes it feel brighter would help."

It's not an especially dark room. There is a window, a warm little brazier, plenty of things to cast light.

What Derrica wants is to dispel some of the weight from it. Knowing the heaviness of the business that happens here. She'd sat in this office with Ilias, talking about how petitioning for her phylactery could bring the whole of the Chantry down onto her head. It had been a difficult conversation then, even though Ilias had tried to make it easy for her.

She'd like to do her part in this, making things easy.

[notathreat]

A smile lights Ellie's face like a reflex she can't help, at the tiny squeeze. She nods, then glances around the room, thinking to herself. She's never been one for interior design, but art, sure.

"Curtains," she says, particularly, her smile turning thoughtful. She can't help but remember her and Joel's first days back in Jackson, how he'd gone room to room, showing off the "new" house, all the things that would be eventually fixed up. Nothing made a room feel finished like curtains and a rug.

"Maybe a painting or two. Or some shelves, for your potions."

It's a gentle tease, but a warm one.

"Any colors you like?"

[tender]

Curtains.

Derrica thinks first of light, gauzy gold fabric, something to pin over the narrow windows when the weather is fair and the shutters will be open to invite the breeze. Kirkwall's hot, muggy summers are familiar to her now.

Her fingers skim down Ellie's forearm before Derrica breaks from her, taking a few steps to perch up on her desk while she hums over her answer.

"I'd like shelves," she says first, for potions or otherwise. Her smile widens slightly as she says, "I like purple and gold, and sometimes red. Those seem a little too..."

A wobble of her hand in the air between them. Unprofessional? Riftwatch trends towards unprofessional as a rule, but—

"The Commander has a painting of his ship in the harbor in his office. Maybe I should think of something like that."

Nondescript? Oceanic? Related to something she cares for? Any of the above?

[notathreat]

The skimming touch makes her shiver in a good way, but she covers it up as best she can, settling the smaller book stack against her chest as she takes in the pretty picture Derrica makes, sitting on the edge of the desk.

Purple and gold, and sometimes red.

Ellie nods, her attention wandering to the windows. The shelves would be easy enough to whip up, she'd done enough work on the fences, and Joel made sure she knew how to do basic things around a house...

She pauses, pursing her lips, thinking of a painting. Is it too forward? Too presumptuous? Or is she being an idiot again-?

"Um," she ventures, a little awkwardly. "If you'd... like me to paint something like that. I could." She hastens to add, "Or if you wanted, we could check out the shops, if you like a different style."

It seems a little too much to suggest that she put up her painting.

[tender]

"I want you to paint something," Derrica affirms. "Whatever you like."

And if it's not what anyone expects to find in the Project Haven office, well. That's their problem. By rights, they likely wouldn't expect to find someone like Derrica there either.

She is a Rivaini Seer, meant to be dead years ago. She is an unorthodox candidate for the position, which Derrica is sure Byerly Rutyer had pointed out.

"And you'll have to let me repay you for it."

[notathreat]

Ellie breaks into a smile, glad she's guessed right, and lifts one shoulder, shrugging.

"Nah, it'll be a present. Like a congratulations on getting a swanky new job." She catches her lower lip between her teeth, thoughtful. Pulls it through, and lets her eyes linger in the direction of Derrica's boots, working up to the thought.

"Or you could... buy me drink or something?"

So casual. So smooth. Nailed it.

[tender]

It's not necessarily an unexpected thing. They've shared drinks together before, but something about the phrasing of it—

Or the beat of hesitation couched in the middle of Ellie's query, that might have tipped the question from one thing to another. There is a beat of consideration while Derrica looks at Ellie, before holding out a hand in silent request. Come here, please.

"Riftwatch will pay for your supplies, and your work," Derrica tells her. "Your art is your gift to me."

Someone could paint the walls. Ellie would make something of them.

But to the question—

Derrica means to hold her own answer, at least until Ellie is closer.

[notathreat]

Ellie lets the words stand on their own. What will be, will be -- but she tips her head to one side as Derrica holds out a hand for her, that mute ask.

It's not something that registers with Ellie anymore, the idea that she could refuse, or pull away. Moreover, that Derrica would let her, and not care about her less for it. There's a freedom in the knowing, in the safety of it.

Shifting the books to her other arm, Ellie walks to her, stretching out a hand to touch, where Derrica's beckoning her. With the other, she sets the half-stack of books on the desk with the others, simply because it's awkward to keep holding them.

You don't have to repay gifts, she wants to say, but the way Derrica's looking at her has her holding her tongue, not wanting to derail what's on her mind.

[tender]

It's not that Derrica is unaware of that rebuttal. She's sure Ellie intends to press that particular point, because it's her way.

And maybe they will talk about it later. Derrica isn't exactly closing the door on the topic, she's just—

There's more important things to talk about.

"I'll buy you a drink," Derrica tells her, as she reaches to take the books. Deposit them on her desk. (Her desk, what a strange phrase.) Laces their fingers loosely together without drawing Ellie any closer. "But I have to ask which way you'd like me to mean it."

Because they have been very good at maintaining clear boundaries so far. Derrica could certainly buy a drink for a friend. But they should both be clear on expectation, whether or not this is meant to shift something between them.

[notathreat]

It's a good question. An honest one. The kind of question Ellie needs in her life, no double-talk or maybe or unspoken, hinted bullshit. No doubletalk.

Even if it puts them both on the spot, Ellie appreciates it in a way she can't yet put into words, but it's good. It's good for her, good for them.

It's one of the first steps she can take to start getting over herself.

So Ellie takes Derrica's hand, lacing their fingers together, and looks down, running a thumb over Derrica's knuckles, considering.

"We go out," she suggests. "The two of us, together. Flirting, all of it. Everything on the table. If we walk away friends, then we walk away friends. If it goes in a different direction-"

Ellie pauses, still considering Derrica's hand. She cups in between her own, then looks up and seriously into her eyes.

"Then I'm ready to see where it goes."

[tender]

"We'll be friends either way," Derrica says, firm over the words. That's what she wants, more than anything else: the preservation of the bond they share. Ellie matters. Their friendship matters. Derrica wants to be clear about that.

But it helps, how decided Ellie is in her answer. But still, she tips her head, meeting Ellie's eyes as she lets that decision settle and weighs up her own response.

"You can change your mind," is an important thing too. Even if Ellie knows, Derrica thinks it's good to hear out loud, for someone else to remind her. "If you realize you aren't ready."

It's not always so straightforward. Derrica knows this too. And there needs to be space for whatever might happen in the future, whatever Ellie might need. Everything Derrica's already said still applies. She can wait. Their friendship can be what it is, without Derrica pressing for more.

[notathreat]

If Derrica hadn't been so clear about her interest, Ellie might've thought this was a way to hint that they should slow down, or even stop. Instead, it makes her smile, and she ducks her head, like it might show.

"Thanks," she says, squeezing her hand again, making herself look up. Her face has softened a bit into something far more comfortable, more fond.

"I like that you look out for me. If it gets weird, we'll slow down."

She offers a bigger smile.

"Same goes for you. If you're not ready, or. Anything else."

[tender]

"I like looking out for you," Derrica tells her, a little teasing around a very true sentiment. They are friends, and they care about each other. Of course Derrica will pay due attention to Ellie's comfort.

There's always a small twinge of—

Not sadness, but something close to it. Worry, maybe. Worry that Ellie is unused to being cared for this way.

"And I will," is a promise too, though the things that might require Derrica to step back are not so predictable. But she'd been clear with Ellie. They both understand each other, and what they need. There's no guarantee that any part of this will be easy, but it will help to know. "Did you have a day in mind?"

Does Ellie need a day or two to prepare for a friendly, flirtatious kind of drink?

[notathreat]

Ellie sees it in Derrica's face, but maybe it's because she's looking for it. Maybe it's because she's a healer, but Derrica's more sensitive to other people's hurts than anyone she's ever met. Ellie feels a brush of shame, mostly because she made it obvious enough to be seen.

She doesn't like being a wounded thing, partially because so many of them were inflicted through her own stupid choices.

She shoves the fleeting thought aside. Later, she'll recognize it, and marvel at the fact that Derrica's presence is what inspires her to make the effort.

"Tomorrow?" she asks, tilting her head. Derrica's wrapped up in moving today, and Ellie isn't being called away on an assignment.

"I can help you move this stuff today. Get you settled in."

bow on this y/y?

[tender]

Tomorrow.

It's so soon. But maybe that's an indicator on it's own. Ellie could have put this off a week, if she wanted to. Plenty of time to reconsider.

But tomorrow leaves no real time for any changes. Perhaps this does mean Ellie's made up her mind truly. Derrica puts that aside to consider later, when they aren't in the middle of unpacking boxes and making this space hospitable.

"Yes," she agrees, releasing Ellie's hand to slip off the desk. "Tomorrow would be perfect."

Assuming disaster doesn't strike between now and then, as it is sometimes wont to do when it comes to Riftwatch's affairs.

"I might owe you more than one drink once we get to that wooden bench in the hallway."

Which is not supposed to be all the way up here, and yet.

Y!

[notathreat]

It's a risk- but then again, everything is, and Ellie's done with biding her time, nursing her feelings. She of all people knows that in order to heal, an injury must be stretched, walked on one it's had time to set.

It may be painful, but Ellie wants to live, and that means allowing herself to enjoy being alive. Even if she's out of practice, even if she has to re-learn how.

"I'll keep a running tab," she teases, and follows.