2019-07-03 - Definition Of The Term 'Loose'

It is a quiet walk back to the hospital; probably a little too quiet, Violet doesn't seem very keen in saying anything at all which may or may not be appreciated. It is sort of silently understood that they'd go up to his office, a trek which earns them both an eyeroll from Marilyn once their backs are turned. But once the door is shut, Violet releases a breath, shoulders sagging subtly. "I'm sorry I said you said the wrong word," she is quiet, but sincerely spoken. "It's just.. she's not loose, Alex. Loose is what you would say for .. a dog that got out of the yard, or some kind of dangerous animal that's escaped the zoo, and she's.." she swallows. She notably does not cry. "She's my sister, Alex. And I wasn't trying to correct you, I just.." she shakes her head.

Quiet is fine. Alex is fine with quiet. He does say hello to Marilyn on the way by her desk, but it's hard to tell if that's a real hi or an 'i hate you and hope you die' hi. Then the door is shut tidily, and Alex seems like he intends to put on his lab coat and go back to doing doctor things (which begs the question wtf he though Violet came all the way up here for but whatever). He doesn't actually get that far, just putting away his lunch bag and taking the aforementioned coat off its hook, folding it over his forearm, leaving him free to attend Violet's quiet sincerity. She says she's sorry. He says, "Don't be." Everyone should take a drink. He waits a moment after her trailing off, like he's expecting her to pick up and continue - 'cause he does that 'hold on, lemme think a second' shit all the time. When it becomes obvious she's not, he says calmly, "We don't have to agree about this, Violet."

"I don't know what we're not agreeing to," Violet admits, scraping her teeth across her bottom lip. She stares down at her feet for the time being, scuffing her ballet flat against the office floor. "I know you think I'm wrong. I know you're helping me in spite of that. I know I shouldn't have corrected you in front of a colleague, you wouldn't have done that to me. I mean, if I had any colleagues for you to correct me in front of, which I don't, but that's sort of besides the point," That poor bottom lip is thoroughly abused, before she releases a frustrated little sigh and pushes herself forward, to perch herself on the edge of his desk and look up to him. Her blue eyes were brilliantly clear today, not a tear in sight. It was a goddamn Christmas-in-July miracle. "If she really has.. gotten out.. are you.." This was not an easy question to ask, and she struggles with the words even though she knows the right ones to say.

"... Are you going to have Doctor Glass send her back?"

The problem with having his coat over his arm, come to think of it, is that now Alex can't fold his hands behind his back where they belong. They wind up folding in front of him, where his thumb can rub into the opposite palm while he shakes his head at the whole thing about his colleague. Sure, that probably irked him a wee bit, but not enough for him to dwell on it. Other than that, he stands and listens quietly, holding her commendably dry eyes throughout. The question was difficult to get out; the answer comes promptly and without any of the language difficulties: "That's not my decision to make." He manages to at least apologetic about that fact, so that's something? In the interests of full disclosure, he adds gently, "Legally, unless something changed with her status that you don't know about? She'll have to go back."

"Oh," is Violet's response, and she rolls her tongue over her lips as she shifts awkwardly on the edge of his desk. It takes a full minute for his words to settle, and in the meantime she clasps her hands in front of her, directing her attention down to her fingers. "Maybe .. maybe Doctor Glass can re-evaluate her," she says quietly, a lump in her throat. "Maybe we can get her sent to a place that actually helps people, a place that's ... I don't know. A place that is normal," she says that last point in a frustrated rush, the words accompanied with a sigh. At least she's not suggesting they smuggle her out of the country or something!

"Ideally," they'll be able to send her someplace that's not an imaginary dumping ground for crazies~. Alex adjusts his hold on his coat, freeing up one hand to stop clasping his own and reach across, folding his fingers around Violet's for a light squeeze. "You reminded me once that I'm not normal. I'm going to remind you now that Alice is not normal. Whatever this place is? Whatever they're doing to her? It's kept her alive." One more firmer squeeze before he notes, "If they thought she was ready to be," don't say 'let loose,' "released, then they would have done so, as they did with Julia and Hannah." <-- he's so fucking stupid

Violet seems to relax some when Alex comes to take her hand in his own, each squeeze releasing some of the tension she holds in her shoulders. "All right," she murmurs, leaning towards him and bringing her eyes to his own again; there was still a lot of question there, far too many what ifs, but she was going to concede to that point. Because she didn't know any better, either. "I just... I need her to be okay. Once I know that she's okay, I'll feel a lot better about this. I just wish she would talk to me again," and she leans forward after, briefly putting her head to his chest, just needing to be close. "I love you, Alex," she murmurs.

This stupid coat is a problem. Why did Alex even bother taking it off the hook? Now he's going to have to drape it across the top of his desk, and that's not where it goes, so that sticks in his craw, but that's the price he pays for planning to just wander off without having a conversation about any of this.

All of that to say: Alex drapes his coat across the top of the desk, thus freeing his arms to put them around Violet, one hand between her shoulder blades and the other smoothing down her hair. "I wish she would talk to you, too. Perhaps she will when we find her." He presses a kiss to her forehead to answer, "I love you, too. Even if we're at odds about this, you're still my favorite Violet?"

Violet pays no mind to his stupid coat; she's made her claim, and he was going to have to figure out what to do with the stupid coat so he could hold her proper. #dealwithit. There's a short little, quiet little huff of laughter at his latter point, a hint of a sparkle in her eyes (and not from crying! SHE MADE IT THIS ENTIRE CONVERSATION WITHOUT CRYING!) when she looks up to him. "I should hope I'm your only Violet," she murmurs playfully, as she stretches up, winding an arm around his neck to push her fingers through his hair and coax him down to kiss her. It's not a long kiss, but it's a meaningful one, born of all the emotion in the moment. And she sighs as she leans away, casting a look down to his desk briefly, before she lifts her eyes up to his own again.

"You know, all things considered?" she murmurs, "We've come a long way since we were here last." i.e. here on his desk, when he told her to stop! "I'm glad for that."

As if defensively, Alex notes, "I have a few on the patio." After she kisses him (or he kisses her, it's the same end result) but before all that leaning away happens, he adds, "I like you better than the ones on the patio." He follows the look aside to the desk, where his coat is now - he stops staring at it like he can use his mind to move it over to the hook where it belongs, because he can't do that 🙁 - and returns his attention to Violet with a quiet laugh back at her. "You don't want me to tell you that we have to stop again? Because technically..." He also can't lock the door with his mind, gdi. But he does check his watch from behind Violet's head. "...no one will come looking for me for at least a half hour."

"You're so sweet to me," from anybody else, that would be a sarcastic remark to his violets comment. But coming from Violet - the real thing, not the flowers on the patio - it sounds endearing, touched even. There were so many hearts in her eyes in the moment, but there was definitely something else there too, maybe just a little wicked as she lowers her hand, dragging it from his shoulder down to his chest. Therein, she curls her fingers around his shirt, absolutely threatening to wrinkle the fabric as he checks his watch behind her head because he's a real romantic.

"At least a half hour? Mmn, good," she grins, and then tugs, and hopefully one of them remembers to lock the door at some point but it's unlikely because Violet wasn't going to be too keen on letting him go for the next 30 minutes.

Then Marilyn walks in like OMG NOW WE HAVE TO DISINFECT IN HERE OR THE CRAZY WILL CONTAMINATE THE WHOLE BUILDING