[So Kate shows up as promised, fake butter in hand. This time, she just lets herself in, because why not. She looks a bit worse for wear—bandaids and bruises all over her face—but it could have been much, much worse.]
( outside the apartment, jason at least tries to go for a bit of normalcy. it's not a concern elsewhere, but he's trying to avoid any looks from civilians here. inside the apartment? he's a goddamn mess. there's a ratty black tank top that doesn't do shit to cover how fucked up his shoulder is (bullet wound straight through, bruises and smaller cuts all over), nor the bruises on his neck. his face is battered, nose swollen, an eye still puffy. and under the shorts his legs aren't much different than the rest of him. his hands are fully taped up, covered in bandages to hide how bad his knuckles are.
but he's standing in the kitchen with a few containers of leftovers freshly warmed up, and raises a thumb up to lick some of the pasta sauce off of it. )
[Kate dumps the butter on the counter and immediately gets up in his personal space, reaching up to brush her fingers against one of the bruises on his jaw. Her touch is light enough that it barely sets off the empathy bond—just enough for him to get a flutter of concern and frustration.]
You and Damian have dismissing injuries down to an art, you know that?
( barely, but it does set it off. he's--in a fair amount of pain, winces from the contact and luckily, as bad as everything else is--everyone's back up and alive. he's still angry, still depressed, but the pain's stronger than any of that. his good hand raises up, moves to shrug off her hand before reaching for a few plates in the cupboard to the side of the oven. )
Yeah, yeah. ( pasta noodles transferred into two separate bowls, and jason slides one across the counter to kate. pours sauce over his own and puts the pot down towards her, too. )
[Kate's quiet for a second, dumping a little extra sauce on her pasta as she tries to figure out what to say. She takes much longer doing it than is strictly necessary.]
Damian's been talking to me, at least. He's not bottling everything up like I thought he would.
( whatever, he's going to just. dig right into this pasta now, thanks. pretend that this is a completely normal conversation to be having while they're both covered in bandaids. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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nothing broken?
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are you going to keep dodging my questions?
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both hands
bullet through the shoulder
cuts, bruises, scrapes
i'm healing
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fitz patched me up
i'm good
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you know where i'm at. you're welcome to come by
made pasta, if you want some
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give me twenty minutes
want me to bring anything?
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[So Kate shows up as promised, fake butter in hand. This time, she just lets herself in, because why not. She looks a bit worse for wear—bandaids and bruises all over her face—but it could have been much, much worse.]
Jason?
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but he's standing in the kitchen with a few containers of leftovers freshly warmed up, and raises a thumb up to lick some of the pasta sauce off of it. )
Hey.
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[Kate dumps the butter on the counter and immediately gets up in his personal space, reaching up to brush her fingers against one of the bruises on his jaw. Her touch is light enough that it barely sets off the empathy bond—just enough for him to get a flutter of concern and frustration.]
You and Damian have dismissing injuries down to an art, you know that?
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's fine, you get used to it.
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[She says, but there's no heat behind it.]
Are you okay? Really okay?
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This is nothing I can't handle.
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I don't mean physically.
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( so no, he isn't okay. but there's nothing that can be done to change what happened. )
Added some fresh basil to the sauce.
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[Kate's quiet for a second, dumping a little extra sauce on her pasta as she tries to figure out what to say. She takes much longer doing it than is strictly necessary.]
Damian's been talking to me, at least. He's not bottling everything up like I thought he would.
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"Damian"?
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Uh... Yeah. He told me his real name a little while ago.
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( whatever, he's going to just. dig right into this pasta now, thanks. pretend that this is a completely normal conversation to be having while they're both covered in bandaids. )
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( it's not a secret. but there is a dramatic pause, as jason pauses to. shove a forkful of pasta into his mouth. )
That kid's paranoia runs deeper than the fucking ocean.
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Let a girl pretend she's making progress, okay?
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I'll tell you his real name, if you can do me a favor.
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