.

[rehandle]

Comments

[verbol]

He already lost his bet with John.

[he's such a little bastard!] The option is there, anyway. Not like I'm doing much out here except chopping wood and using the kids for manual labour.

[rehandle]

They had a bet?

[ A pair of little bastards!! ]

Thanks. If I take you up on that I'll remember to call ahead so you can clear out the workforce. Do you have a full roof yet?

[verbol]

Oh, yeah. Full roof, all the walls are weather-proofed. Mostly. I'll probably insulate next weekend.

[how much wood can one man wood etc] If you call ahead, maybe you wizard them straight back to town so I don't have to hear 'em complaining.

[rehandle]

Right. It's a good job we don't all have a immutable telepathic connection for them to complain at you over...

[ Sorry to break it to you, bud. ]

[verbol]

I'm getting good at blocking them out.

[rehandle]

Well, practice makes perfect I guess.

[ A pause. ]

I might come by. Maybe tomorrow.

[verbol]

Yeah? Suppose I could spare some beer.

[rehandle]

Ever the gracious host. [ Here again that delay, thoughts moving from visit to the need for the visit to— ] How have you been sleeping recently?

[verbol]

[A beat. ] Usual. Not great. Why, my eyebags getting worse?

[rehandle]

[ It says something that he neither huffs a laugh or confirms in jest. ]

Nightmares?

[verbol]

Yeah, sometimes.

[rehandle]

Death?

[verbol]

Why are you asking?

[rehandle]

There's something going around. Bad sleep, dreams of dying. Some people aren't waking up.

Make sure you're not on your own out there too much.

[ Not that it'll make any difference. But he doesn't like the idea of Jim caught unwaking in nightmare throes with nobody there to at least watch over him. ]

[verbol]

What do you mean people aren't waking up?

[rehandle]

They're not dead, just sleeping. Something like a coma.

[verbol]

How many?

[rehandle]

I don't know. House might be a better call for numbers, he's taking care of people at the clinic.

[verbol]

Right - right. I'll head into town, then. Check in.

[rehandle]

[ Come on, Stephen. Just talk to him. It takes maybe ten seconds, a notable pause when thoughts have been flowing like conversation, almost like he's already gone - ]

My roommate's down with it. She's been out for about a week.

[verbol]

Oh. Oh, shit. Is she with House, too?

[and this, surprisingly, comes easier: ] Do you need anything?

[rehandle]

She's here.

[ Instant, almost overcutting the question before it's asked, tense with his worry. And then Jim asks him what he needs, and immediately he regrets having said anything. The fact that the answer must be yes, but he doesn't know what. ]

I need to come by tomorrow. [ Not news. Though the need is a little different from the might and the maybe he'd used earlier, it's still a deflection. ] It's been a few weeks.

[verbol]

Then come by. Whenever. You don't have to wait weeks.

[rehandle]

I know. [ It wasn't really on purpose. Time had just - happened. And then... ] Nami and I have an agreement. By the time I got around to asking...

[ By the time he got around to asking he walked into their room and she never woke up. He's spent the subsequent week barely ever away. ]

I'll come tomorrow.

[ Reassurance more than anything. Promise that he's not letting himself get into that second months's state again. ]

[verbol]

[It's enough for now. He tries to convey that - some kind of telepathic hand, an understanding. ]

Good. Whenever, I'll be up.