Did I Ever Tell You [Reida, Alastair]

The aftermath of Anaconda had been such an absolute hellhole for Reida that she'd come a bit dangerously close to simply storming off to parts unknown. If not for her sense of duty, and her commitment to the idea of retribution against the rest of the world, she might've even done it.

Well, that and her friends. She'd have to admit that she'd have missed them a lot too. Speaking of, she knocked on the door to an apartment she'd come to plenty of times before. She typically cooked here, but she didn't feel like wasting any of his time with all that. So in one hand she had a big ol' bag full of food, and in the other, her bottle of whiskey. Not for him, of course. It wasn't good for people in recovery to drink.

"Better be in there, Alastair, or I'll be mighty upset you forgot about me comin' over."

His time in the hospital had been the longest he had gone without seeing Reida ever since that fateful first encounter, and he was already starting to miss her dry southern tones. That was a normal thing to think, was it not? He just missed his friends, all of them, really. He would go check on Vee at some point, make sure she was alright, and Sophie would drop by to check in on him. He had missed them too so that made it alright. Right?

Hearing that familiar knock at the door, he stood and began to approach. His left arm was still in a cast, though the sling had been mercifully removed, beyond that, it was almost a clean bill of health.

"Yes, I am here. Give me a moment."

Sliding off the lock, he threw open the door with as much force as he could manage. Propping it against his body once it was wide open, he finally laid eyes upon her. A little more banged up, though nothing compared to himself, but that was the Reida he remembered all too well. His face, which had previously been locked into a neutral frown, now stretched into a welcoming smile.

"Good to see you, Reida. I see you brought the goods."

The potted arm waved in the direction of her foodstuffs as the lightest of laughs escaped his lips.

It was not quite alright.

"Hey, there's the big strong man himself. Y'er lookin' a whole lot better now, good to see."

Reida offered him a playful little punch on the shoulder, though it was more than gentle enough to keep from causing any problems. Honestly, probably too gentle, but she didn't want to take any chances. He was a good guy, seeing him get any more roughed up woulda been bad.

"I sure brought more'n enough for the first good breakfast in a while! I got it all, shrimp n' grits, biscuits n' gravy, I even made cornbread. Ain't easy to get cornmeal here, but I managed."

Honestly, Reida hadn't slept much at all readying this whole breakfast feast, but she didn't really intend for it to just be this one meal, either. He was getting better still, so it was just second nature for her to make sure he had more than enough food for a good while. Setting it all onto the counter as she stepped inside, she allowed herself a grin as she put her hands on her hips proudly.

"So, been keepin' yourself busy at least?"

Alastair flustered just a little at her passing comment, a lick of colour decorating his porcelain cheeks before she landed a solid punch on his shoulder and his smile grew just a little sharper. See, friendly banter.

It was like he was trying to coax himself into it.

"Ah, I imagine you had a sample of the delightful selection provided by the hospital's breakfast service then. But I appreciate you doing all this, I hope it was not any trouble. Especially the cornmeal then."

He followed her into the main room, letting her take the kitchen side of the counter whilst he stood across from her. He was truly grateful for the food because he had already attempted to cook by himself and that had ended up in the bin. Consigning oneself to microwave meals was not an enticing prospect, so anything he could do to escape that fate was to be selfishly claimed and hoarded.

"I suppose I have done a bit of talking. Some sitting. Had a little lie-down. Honestly, I have been rather bored, there is only so much a soldier with a broken wing can do. I was glad to hear that you made it out comparatively unscathed, though. But are you doing alright?"

He did not really mean physically, though that was the surface level of his request. Rather, he knew that things tended to eat away at Reida from the inside and it would be better to air them out now than wait.

"Lord that hospital food's just dreadful, I couldn't believe it. Well, guess I could, but still, ya oughta think they'd be handling things a little better for the people recovering. Maybe I'll go talk to 'em one of these days, eh? Share my recipe book."

Reida would have given him more trouble over all his lack of activity at home, called him lazybones or something like that just to lighten the mood up even more, but she knew exactly what he was asking when he asked if she was doing alright. It wasn't about all the little scars that hadn't quite healed over yet, or any of the injuries she'd gotten in Anaconda.

"I'm doin' alright. Mad, mostly. Sancroix's having me just do desk work. Gets my blood boiling. I joined up to handle intel, get answers outta people. They even have me handling the Gewelle girl for it, and after I nearly lose a subordinate and an arm they just stick me on paperwork. Go figure."

Pulling out plates and silverware, perfectly familiar with the layout of the kitchen by now, Reida readied up the breakfast feast as she spoke.

"Just frustratin'."

"I am sure they have their reasons for serving what they do, but I would not want to deprive you of your cookbook. That feels like too great of a loss for our early morning banquets to bear."

That was quite the selfish thing to say, to deprive those in hospital of Reida's excellent breakfast cuisine, but that would have meant a lot of effort for her and she worked hard enough. Taking a seat across from her at the counter, he had wondered if she would chastise him for his lack of activities or goings-on. But he had been asking about her, and even a near sober Reida was not afraid to open herself up on request.

"Ah, I will be back on desk duty by next week. Then I too have to look forward to however long pushing pencils."

Moving the plates around as soon as she passed them over, he began to help as best he could with one still functioning arm. So it was still Reida doing almost all of the legwork.

"I am due for a catchup with Administrator Sancroix too once I get out of this cast, to see how the interrogations went. Maybe we can make some sense out of what happened and why. Takes a little more than this to dent my spirit though, so I will drag us through it together if I have to."

"Hey, I've got it all right up in my head, ain't anything to worry about on that front."

Reida hardly minded doing all of the work here, nor did she mind talking about herself as they worked. Of course, that was only because it was Alastair. Nobody else could've gotten nearly this much out of her, and she took a seat next to where Alastair typically sat. Sitting across from him would've been pointless, after all.

"You're a smart guy after all, strong where it counts. At this rate you're gonna be carryin' me through everything, huh? But I guess that ain't so bad when ya got them big arms to help out."

She grinned at that, wanting to lighten the mood once more before she said her blessing over the meal and dug in. Important stuff, after all.

"C'mon, eat up. Gotta recover!"

"You know full well that I will still worry on your behalf."

Were it anyone else, Alastair would have made a far more considerable effort not to be coddled but it was a futile endeavour against Reida and so he simply accepted this fate. It was a kinder fate, as far as they went.

"But I have a long way to go before I can carry anyone, it seems."

His good hand stretched out a little, somewhat towards Reida, as if he were grasping at something before it fell through his fingers and left the hand hanging there awkwardly. It was a sobering moment, though he knew that she had wanted to lift his spirits. A pang of guilt struck him at that moment, and a gentle smile found its way back to his face.

"At least you can put these 'big arms' to some use then. I do not imagine they will be getting much practical use for a while yet."

"And you know I'll do the same for you, mister."

Reida's supportive attitude continued on, even as she noted the obvious drop in Alastair's mood. Well, that wouldn't do at all, would it? As his hand reached out, only to lose much of its strength, she simply reached out affirmingly and took his hand in hers, fingers intertwined to really remind him that she was there.

"Ain't here asking for practical use. Far's I can tell, you're doin' just fine as long as you're gettin' better."

Sure, she could've eaten, but she didn't really care near as much about that as she did about making sure he was doing alright. He was her friend, someone that understood her way more than anyone else did. Be poor form not to take care of him, right?

He saw her hand moving for his in slow motion, slowly edging closer as his mind raced ahead. He could strike forward himself, take her hand in his own, which was rather forward but at least he could establish the nature of the hold. He could retract, flinch away and play it off like he was fine. Or he could stay right where he was and see what she wanted. The latter won out, and so he waited with bated breath.

This was a perfectly normal thing for friends to do. To support each other when they were feeling a little down. Hey, maybe she was just going for a high five. Yeah, there was nothing to read into here at all.

Her fingers wrapped around his, pulling their palms close, and Alastair squeezed. Just a gentle little thing, perfectly innocuous, and yet he knew that it was not from the instant he did it. It had been his instinctual reaction to her holding him, to holding her, and suddenly that previous pang of guilt became a pit and he was freefalling.

"Thank you, for being here."

The food was waiting on the table, plated up nicely and going cold. But Alastair's gaze was focused elsewhere, on something that mattered far more to him than the meals she had brought.