𝑶𝑯, 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹. . .

ﾞ i suppose it's quite easy to spot in people. it must be a rare thing, a friendship like that. ﾞ she accepts it easily ; perhaps because she wants to, more than any genuine feeling. ﾞ it's . . . reassuring. to know we're not alone. ﾞ

" things are always complicated with him, " she conceded easily. though, she would admit, the other's situation appeared to be more so than hers, whether or not she had the words to explain it. " did you know? is that why you found me? "

" was it a mutual decision? " she's trying to understand, painting a full picture of their friendship with only a few colours. " it wasn't . . . did you both have a say? "

" reassuring. " a staggered laugh - she had not quite convinced herself, despite his help. " . . . do you know why he- hm . . . i think i always found it harder because i didn't know why. "

" oh. puts it all into perspective, i suppose, " she reflects, melancholic. she doesn't have centuries to wait. " you're not human then. are you . . . like him? "

and from her expression, it's clear that she dwells on that for longer than is perhaps polite. but she's careful not to ask. " it's- it's been six months, for me. but i suppose - well. it's hard to tell the order. "

" a mutual ─ " she stops mid-sentence, aware that all of her effort is being lost on saving herself the embarrassment of tears. how shameful, joan! " . . . so you know him? the doctor? "

she wanted to trust him, ached to believe that his expression of surprise was genuine, but the coincidence was too much to bear. " my friend, he - oh, you know. you must know. " taking the sight in, searching for evidence of the >

a few steps behind him, joan stopped dead in the doorway. painful familiarity began to flood into her, the low hum somewhere between her ribs. she dropped his hand, shaking her head as she refused to >

she watched his hand for a moment, struck by how alien the prospect of touch felt to her now. how long ago had that happened? " . . . that's very kind of you, " she remarked, her gaze flitting between his expression and his hand. she >

" you seem very confident, for someone unsure. " admiration, clear in her bright eyes as they watch him. " i wanted to be an astronaut when i was little. silly. but engineering, when i got older. something technical, that makes sense. "

" . . . do you think so? " it's strange to hear that now, and she looks at him curiously, wondering how he knows the right things to say to her. curious. " well. what do you do with your life? "

" you're very kind, " she tells him, though it works ; flattered, she glances to the ground, turning her shoes inwards. " i don't have any qualifications. i don't have many options now. but thank you for thinking of me like that. "

" i think i've had enough now, " she admitted, breathing in deeply. something in his words was enviable, exciting. " but i don't know what comes next. my job is a dead end. i'm not especially smart. what comes after? "

" i've been mourning a long time, " she confessed, crossing her hands in her lap. " not because i want to. but - i don't know what else to do. i'm alone. there's no one to tell me how to live my life. you . . . seem stronger than me. "

" i'm not so sure. recognising it didn't tell me what to do next. " she rests back against the bench, fixing her gaze straight ahead now, curiosity forgotten where strange comfort has taken it's place. " but it's nice you think so. "

and it works, like a bear walking aimlessly into a trap. joan looks up at him fully then, a dull ache creeping into her spine as she swallows, nodding her agreement. " but that doesn't - it isn't any easier, knowing that. is it? "

" you do? " she frowned at that ; sympathetic, struggling to suppress a growing curiosity as she looked up at him. " . . . i'm sorry for that. can i ask how? "