[ Her offer really traced back to that bitterness before, that sour edge that she didn't want keeping him up when he so desperately needed to sleep. But it's his choice, and her only answer to his huff is a small noise of amusement. She stands and pulls the blanket back over him -- even with a lit fireplace, the nights are cold in Nott -- then gathers his shirt to soak it in cold water, see if she can get at least some of the blood out.
She's gone from the room before he wakes the next morning, and doesn't come back until Nadine has finished and left as well. When she does return, it's with towels in one hand and a plate in the other. From what Julie can tell, the people of Abraxas don't have coffee and don't eat real breakfast, but by God, she can and will still put eggs on toast. She ate enough porridge in the dungeon to last her the rest of her life. The food is left next to him on the table, and she disappears into the bathroom, where she calls out. ]
Good mornin', sugar. No rush to leave, but you have got to take a bath, there is still dried blood all over you. A coon dog could peg you for a dead body right now.
[ One of the few saving graces of this world is that they have figured out indoor plumbing, and the roar of the large wooden tub filling with hot water soon drowns her out until she comes back through the door. She's examining his still-damp shirt, which she drapes over a stand in front of the fireplace. ] You feelin' any better?
no subject
She's gone from the room before he wakes the next morning, and doesn't come back until Nadine has finished and left as well. When she does return, it's with towels in one hand and a plate in the other. From what Julie can tell, the people of Abraxas don't have coffee and don't eat real breakfast, but by God, she can and will still put eggs on toast. She ate enough porridge in the dungeon to last her the rest of her life. The food is left next to him on the table, and she disappears into the bathroom, where she calls out. ]
Good mornin', sugar. No rush to leave, but you have got to take a bath, there is still dried blood all over you. A coon dog could peg you for a dead body right now.
[ One of the few saving graces of this world is that they have figured out indoor plumbing, and the roar of the large wooden tub filling with hot water soon drowns her out until she comes back through the door. She's examining his still-damp shirt, which she drapes over a stand in front of the fireplace. ] You feelin' any better?