2019-08-29 - No One Is Good At Relationships

Alexander has been moved out of the post-OR recovery room to a more standard room. He's not alone; Alexander can't afford a private room. Hell, he can't afford the room he has - but that is a problem for Future!Alexander (and the hospital's billing department). He's been napping on and off through the day, the drugs making it far easier for him to go to sleep than any other time. Right now, he's awake, sitting up, and doing something on his phone. He's in the stupid hospital gown, hooked up to an IV that is filling him full of drugs and blood, but otherwise looks fine - as long as you ignore the massive bunch of bandages on one side of his neck and head. Which he is doing is best to do.

Erin was the last to find out, but probably that was for the best. There wasn't a freaking out Addington pacing the halls while he was in the OR. Even now she's set a frenetic pace until she gets to his door. If there's resistance since it was attempted murder, some police officer or anything, Erin will somehow manage to get by. After all, the hospital sported her last name.

There's only a small knock before she enters the room and she's carrying what can only be called a boisterous display of flowers and a forest and lime green.. something. It almost looks like Oscar the Grouch without a trash can.

When she notices him alert and using his phone, she frowns. "You're supposed to be resting." Scolding him a little despite her being there to wake him too. "Oh God, Alexander. This.. why?"

Alexander looks up when someone comes in; there's not a lot of resistance. To be honest, Alexander has ended up in the hospital far more often than anyone should over the years, and unless police are actively involved, it's mostly just 'do we need a psych hold this time?' and then they stick him somewhere out of the way. Sometimes even WHEN police are actively involved. Either way, it's fine. Everything is fine. Although the man in the bed seems startled almost to the point of rudeness by who his visitor is. "...Miss Addington?" he says, or tries to - his voice is more of a gurgle, but the main gist can be understood.

Luckily, she's on his phone contacts. So he looks back down at his phone, types a bit. Her phone chimes. A text!

This is resting. Hello. Are you well?

Erin is so terribly used to this reaction from him and she just breezes by it, putting on a brave face despite how she tries not to show her nervousness. The concern can be easily seen though. His greeting makes her wince and she moves over for some busy work. The flowers go in the window area and she looks at the two-toned monster thing before showing it to him. "It's a sewer monster." But suddenly she feels a little self conscious about it. "I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind." She even tucks it onto the bed beside him. "I named him Oscar."

Her phone chirps and she lifts it out of her pocket to read the text. Guilt washes over her. "Oh God.. will you ever be able to speak again?"

Alexander looks at the flowers. He looks at the monster. As Erin tucks it in beside him, he smiles a little, and reaches out to pet its head, as if it were a living animal and not some sort of adorably creepy plush critter. His gaze turns back to her, confused and intense all at once. Watching her expression. The nervousness and the guilt are both seen, and his faint smile reverses itself. He picks up the phone. Tap tap tap.

Thanks. For flowers and Oscar. He's cute. I will. Just swollen. No permanent damage done. Why guilty? You didn't do this.

Erin keeps her phone on her hand and she doesn't text back but she talks back to him once she reads. Show off. "I feel like my family is responsible for this. For everything. My family has taken so much from others. Now I feel there's nothing and no one to turn to. I've lost my parents, my grandmother and great uncle aren't being reasonable at all. And Geoff.." The last one she doesn't explain.

Instead, she looks down at him patting the animal and it draws a genuine smile, even if it is brief. "I'm so sorry you were hurt. I just heard from Byron and came straight away."

Alexander stares at Erin. For a long, long time. It's sort of like he's just frozen there, face a blank mask. Which neatly covers for his incipient panic of what to do in the face of Erin's distress. Scenarios are examined, weighed, discarded. Eventually, one is chosen. He points at a chair, gesturing for her to drag it up closer to the bed. Not Isabella's chair, of course. That's HER chair. He taps at his phone.

Nobody gets rich without being an asshole, Erin. Somewhere along the way. But Gohl isn't their fault. He likes killing people. He was freed. Thomas captured him again. It may be killing him, to keep him as trapped as he is, but he's doing it anyway. Don't like him. Won't pretend to. But more people would be dead if not for him.

He pauses to shake his hand, work the kinks out from typing. Then adds. You've been nothing but kind. None of this is your fault, Erin.

Nothing could bring Erin to argue with Alexander and she pulls over a chair, the specific chair he pointed out, knowing all too well things had to be just so. She angles it to him before sliding into the seat. She reads her phone and keeps her head bowed over it probably too long. There's a sniffle and she closes her eyes to try and compose herself. Finally, she does manage but she has to swipe her fingers beneath her eyes and when she talks again it's a tiny bit raspy as she attempts to talk past the lump in her throat.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. From anyone. Everything is falling apart and you're here and I don't know why, after everything has happened to everyone around me, that I'm feeling sorry for myself. I feel terrible about what happened to you, what's happening to my great uncle. My friends losing their parents. Just.. everything. I expected Geoff to leave too and when he came to me yesterday hinting at it, I let him go too. Only.. I was wrong and now it's too late. But it's better to happen now than later."

Venting only makes her feel worse and more selfish. "What can I do for you? How can I help you. You're my friend, I had hoped you'd consider me one of yours. Either way, how can I help?"

Alexander listens. Right now, he's a real good listener. Really, more people should have throat trauma. The quality of human communication would be improved. He's watching her with those flat black eyes, clearly paying attention to everything that's happening, although in a way that might seem detached and almost alien. But, slowly, his non-IV hand puts down the phone, then reaches for the box of tissues on his side table, and offers them silently to her, putting them down on the bit of the bed closest to her.

He looks down when she's down, and takes up the phone again. Tap. Tap tap tap. Slow at first, like he's choosing every word carefully.

I'm here because I did something stupid. Do not taunt happy fun serial killer. #Protip. There's a pause, a brief look up and a smile as he sends that to her. Ting! Then he's back to typing. Your parents just died. You're not expected to just get over that. Or make good decisions. I make terrible decisions for less good reason. You're allowed to hurt. And to be angry. And to screw up a relationship. It's okay.

There's another long pause and the text sent. Then he types, very slowly, suddenly glad Isabella isn't here. When a guy finds himself somehow in a relationship with a woman who is...very far out of his league, we sometimes do stupid shit. Can be hard not to assume every fight is the moment she's gonna come to her senses and blow us off. Don't know Mr. Turner very well. Or you. But 'better now than later' isn't usually true. He sends that text, and then raises his head to stare at her, rather than addressing the last part. Yet.

Oh she was so close to all out tears and Erin made a point to never cry or show much emotion at all, if she could help it. Hadn't her grandmother taught her anything? The kleenex on offer is enough to bring one trailing down her cheek and she hurriedly reaches for the box to swipe at it almost angrily. Another follows though and she takes another moment to work on composing herself. She's maintaining but barely. "Thank you," she offers in response to the tissues. That single gesture meaning so much to her. An act of human kindness.

He tapes, she watches the phone, so very uncertain what he will tell her. Not once had she gotten bad advice from him. "You were trying to help. You were doing more than I could. I've asked to talk to my uncle and I'm waiting to see if he'll grant me an audience." She hesitates when he pauses and she catches his smile. One is automatically returned and it reaches her eyes. When he types again she looks back down at her phone.

"I also can't blame every problem in my life on me losing my parents. They abandoned me when I was so young already. I should be over that loss by now. I should have been over it when I was two. They left me with grandmother and went on their way, no room in their lives for me." There's another sniffle. "I think I hurt him. I didn't reassure him I just.. I did what I thought he was going to do. I thought he was looking for excuses to go. So I let him go. And it's not okay. He'll never forgive me. How could I even ask him to? I texted him, told him I missed him and I was sorry. He didn't respond."

Once again she stops to read his texts and when she finishes, she searches his expression. "I hurt him." She runs fingers through her hair. "Just trust her to love you, Alexander. And she will. Don't doubt her when she's not ever given you reason to before.. that's all the answer I know."

Alexander scowls. Type type.

Bullshit.

Blame the drugs? He glares at her as he sends it. Then glares down at the phone, which is clearly an inadequate communication method for what he wants to say. His fingers tap out a rapid rhythm on the bed as he thinks, then shakes his head (ignore the wince), then thinks some more. He picks up the phone and types.

Things hurt. There's no SHOULD for hurt, except that you have to deal with it eventually. But that doesn't mean 'get over it', but just learn to live with it. And know that it will hurt. He sends that. Shakes his hand again, types more. Can't speak to you and Turner. Do know texting sucks for serious conversations. If you're gonna apologize, do it in person. Might not fix anything, but it's decent. To do.

Then he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment. A long moment, actually. When they open again it's more like he's waking up than anything. He types. If you want to help? Make Margaret tell you how they built the box for Gohl the first time. Who. How. We need a new box. Don't go to Thomas. Gohl is with him. Might be listening.

Erin had upset him, she could see it in his reaction and she winces when he does at the shake of his head. The bullshit glares up at her from her phone all accusing like. Lifting her eyes to his she feels the glare from there just as much. "I don't think he wants to see me. I'll try and see him though, should I just show up at his house? To apologize? I'm so bad at relationships. So bad. He's really the first one I ever considered serious."

His request frightens her a little. "I am supposed to talk to them both tomorrow and ask all of the questions sent to me to ask. I'll definitely ask about the box first, if I can get her without Uncle Thomas. But I mean.. I can heal, can I help you any? And can I help you with the .. bills?"

Alexander gives Erin a blank look. He types.

Hell if I know. Not exactly a font of wisdom on the love front. If I thought something was serious, though, I'd probably put up a fight for it. He sends that, gets a thoughtful look. Don't kidnap him, though. That's a crime. Also rarely works out, romantically.

She hadn't really upset him before - his glare was more of the stern uncle correcting something than truly angry for himself. That's not the case when she mentions helping with the bills. His lips press tight together. Don't need your money. His back stiff with pride as he sends it. Then winces, looks apologetic. Types again. //You're a good person. Kind person. I'm actually curious about the doctor I've been assigned; I'm going to take the opportunity to do a little surveillance, or I'd take you up on the offer of healing. Might still, once I've snooped a bit. If the offer is still open."

"No kidnapping. Got it." Erin laughs a little some of her previous cheer returning. His curtness in the denial of help with the bills does very quickly let her know her own mistake there. "I'm sorry. I just had to offer. I still feel somewhat guilty, Alexander. Not because I thought you couldn't handle it or anything. The offer will always remain open for you anytime and every time. Just shoot me a text if you need me. I should be going though. If you need anything at all, let me know. If Isabella does too, please let me know."

Important. The no kidnapping. ::smiley face:: Alexander offers it with a smile. A shrug to the apology, then a careful shake of his head at the feeling guilty. He doesn't waste his incipient finger cramps on telling her not to feel guilty, but the look he gives her at that is exasperated and fond. He does type: You can text me, too. You know. Promise not to send you autopsy photos, or ruin your car again. Just...it doesn't have to be one way? Feels awkward. To call for help when you don't ask for help yourself. Like taking. Don't like taking. Be safe, and don't die.

"Thank you, Alexander. I'll try and not die. I have to hold you to that myself too. No dying. I won't even drive too terribly fast, deal?" Erin doesn't really expect an answer. "And I will text you. Thank you for the offer and you tell that woman of yours to baby you a little." She's teasing now and she smiles to prove it. "I'm going to try and find Geoff since he's not answering the text. I'll see you again soon." With that, she does head out.