clumsy_auror | (no subject)

(no subject)

Distractions are a positive thing.

Books are somewhat helpful, but her attention keeps wandering; the television or music are even less effective. Doing something with her hands is a definite improvement, so Nymphadora's sitting on the couch with a scrap of fabric, a spool of thread, a needle, and her wand in her hand. She's practicing the sewing spells Molly taught her.

As a concession to Bernard's nerves, there's a blanket tucked around her legs, and a cup of tea on the table in front of her.

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Oh that's a conspiratorial grin if ever there was one.

"Tasty treats?"

A laugh. "You and Bernard are trying to make me fat, huh?" As soon as it leaves her lips Nymphadora pales, slightly, but smiles gamely all the same.

If she can keep the smile up, than so can Mike.

"Is that bastard stealing my shtick? Ooooh, we'll have none of that soul toast."

"'Soul toast'?" she quotes, arching an eyebrow. "Does that come with jam, or syrup?"

"Depends on the soul, and depends on how toasted."

A considering nod. "Fair enough."

"He didn't happen to make Hermits...did he?"

"...Hermits?"

She doesn't think Bernard made Hermits. Whatever they are.

"Oh now see, that's just music to my ears right there."

Mike flips open the top of the basket and retrieves one of the numerous zip-top bags. Just before he offers her the opened bag, he pulls it back momentarily.

"You're not allergic to raisins, are you?"

'Dora peers with interest, and shakes her head. "Not a bit. Love 'em, actually."

"Oh well, then you'll love these. Think....fluffy gingerbread, but with raisins."

He offers her a cookie from the bag. There is the distinct smell of molasses.

Tentatively, Nymphadora takes a bite, and then grins around the cookie. "Blimey."

He beams.

"Wow I sure hope the novelty of making pretty smile like that never wears off."

She cuffs him on the shoulder, still smiling. "Thank you."

"For you, Kahlo, anything."

He looks at the cookies, and then looks back over at the kitchen.

"Do me a favor?"

An eyebrow gets a questioning raise.

"If your ball and chain ever makes you cookies like these can you scream out my name during sex?"

Gravely, "You have my word on it."

"That right there, is like the best thing ever."

"I do try."

'Dora's smile fades, and she nibbles on the cookie a bit more.

A fading smile can mean one of two things. Either he's not doing a good enough job of keeping her mind off of things, or the task itself was too much for him to begin with.

Mike watches her closely. He doesn't know what to say, because he doesn't know what she's feeling. He wonders if being human would help, or if this is something that would always be just beyond the scope of understanding.

After a few moments of silence, Mike offers her his hand.

That simple gesture makes Nymphadora's eyes well up. She takes Mike's hand, her eyes focusing on that rather than his face. It's easier. "I'm all right," she says softly, after a moment. "Really. Just, um. Kind of don't know what to do with myself."

He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I admit that I'm not the best one to be giving advice on anything related to emotions, but it was my experience that if you just let yourself feel bad things will start to sort themselves out."

She nods, eyes still on the contrast between green and pale skin. "Of all the things that could maybe have happened..." A couple of tears spill over, and 'Dora wipes them impatiently away. "I never expected this."

"Oh Kahlo."

Mike shifts on the couch so as to be able to offer her his other hand.

"I'm so sorry."