faderift | open.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

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.

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.

open.

no subject

bow on this y/y?

Y!