She pulls back the rest of the way and puts her hand to her MID to open a text and send a message to Nate, to let him know she intends to switch shifts with him that day. That accomplished, she turns her attention to cleaning up their mess—dropping the tray had spattered some food onto the table. She dabs it up with Church's unused napkin and grabs the trays. "Come on," she says.
She's not quite sure where she's headed. It occurs to her that if they go to the privacy of her room, they're not going to be able to keep their hands off of each other, or at least, there will be more opportunity to be physical rather than vulnerable. And that doesn't seem like a good idea right now. But if she takes him to somewhere public to talk, like the gardens, she'll be too inhibited by the presence of other people to share much. She won't share anything, really. And that doesn't work either.
Her room it is, then. She doesn't take his hand after dropping off the trays, just walks ahead of him, leading the way as she had on the way to the mess hall. After a bit she slows enough for him to catch up. "Going to my room," she explains finally. "I only have one roommate and he ought to be working."
She walks by his side until they reach her room, and she opens the door, leading the way in. One of the sets of sheets she had bought during the ship's visit to the resorts of the Collective are on the bed, and she reaches to tidy the corners of the cover toward the pillow. "We can sit here and talk." The room has chairs, but the desks are all far apart, between the beds, and she would rather snuggle up here then drag chairs all over the room.
no subject
She's not quite sure where she's headed. It occurs to her that if they go to the privacy of her room, they're not going to be able to keep their hands off of each other, or at least, there will be more opportunity to be physical rather than vulnerable. And that doesn't seem like a good idea right now. But if she takes him to somewhere public to talk, like the gardens, she'll be too inhibited by the presence of other people to share much. She won't share anything, really. And that doesn't work either.
Her room it is, then. She doesn't take his hand after dropping off the trays, just walks ahead of him, leading the way as she had on the way to the mess hall. After a bit she slows enough for him to catch up. "Going to my room," she explains finally. "I only have one roommate and he ought to be working."
She walks by his side until they reach her room, and she opens the door, leading the way in. One of the sets of sheets she had bought during the ship's visit to the resorts of the Collective are on the bed, and she reaches to tidy the corners of the cover toward the pillow. "We can sit here and talk." The room has chairs, but the desks are all far apart, between the beds, and she would rather snuggle up here then drag chairs all over the room.