( She's tactile, for better or worse. She's a trauma surgeon and a doctor always in the midst of war relief efforts, and this is nothing. She just has to keep telling herself that it isn't real. It's just a glimpse into the past. Things that had already happened. It didn't make it any less heart-wrenching to hear the screams or the guards any less terrifying, or her fellow travelers any less scared.
But in the end, it still isn't real. It makes it easy to act. And when he visibly calms to the press of her shoulder against his arm, she's smiling up at that apologetic expression and shaking her head. A silent there's no need, for neither apologies nor thanks. It's the right thing to do, offering someone in a stressful situation some measure of comfort. She can't place a hand on his arm or turn very far to face him properly; they're both chained in place, for the most part. But she can offer him that easy little smile even as his eyes betray his words. Managing. Sure. Aren't they all? )
I wager we have a few hours, yet. That should be plenty of time to figure something out. Maybe I can even learn how to pick locks by then. ( Which is where she tips her wrists to show him— she's finagling with some flattened metal piece of a bracelet she had and a bobby pin. It's also very clear she has no idea what she's doing beyond a working knowledge of old locking mechanisms. Something about holding the tumbler over and twisting... ) Besides, this wasn't your choice to make. If they had explained what was awaiting us on the other side, it's very unlikely we would have subjected ourselves to this. Can you bend the end of this for me just a little bit?
( Which is where she's straining to offer him the metal strip, a bit too thick for her to manipulate with just her fingers. She's hoping her relative nonchalance will rub off on him and help set him at ease a fraction at a time. Sharing the sort of camaraderie with him that says we'll get through this, no sweat. )
—I'm sorry, I didn't even say hello. I'm Angela. Do you find yourself in prison often, or is this going to be one of those funny stories when we explain how we've met?
( Don't worry, she'll be the one to bring the jokes. They're not dad jokes, but they're just as bad!! Sorry, Shiro. )
I can't believe how immediately you murdered me with how sweet this tag was bye
But in the end, it still isn't real. It makes it easy to act. And when he visibly calms to the press of her shoulder against his arm, she's smiling up at that apologetic expression and shaking her head. A silent there's no need, for neither apologies nor thanks. It's the right thing to do, offering someone in a stressful situation some measure of comfort. She can't place a hand on his arm or turn very far to face him properly; they're both chained in place, for the most part. But she can offer him that easy little smile even as his eyes betray his words. Managing. Sure. Aren't they all? )
I wager we have a few hours, yet. That should be plenty of time to figure something out. Maybe I can even learn how to pick locks by then. ( Which is where she tips her wrists to show him— she's finagling with some flattened metal piece of a bracelet she had and a bobby pin. It's also very clear she has no idea what she's doing beyond a working knowledge of old locking mechanisms. Something about holding the tumbler over and twisting... ) Besides, this wasn't your choice to make. If they had explained what was awaiting us on the other side, it's very unlikely we would have subjected ourselves to this. Can you bend the end of this for me just a little bit?
( Which is where she's straining to offer him the metal strip, a bit too thick for her to manipulate with just her fingers. She's hoping her relative nonchalance will rub off on him and help set him at ease a fraction at a time. Sharing the sort of camaraderie with him that says we'll get through this, no sweat. )
—I'm sorry, I didn't even say hello. I'm Angela. Do you find yourself in prison often, or is this going to be one of those funny stories when we explain how we've met?
( Don't worry, she'll be the one to bring the jokes. They're not dad jokes, but they're just as bad!! Sorry, Shiro. )