i_speak_softly | Luceti Appointments

[This is on Don's mind too, but he has one other thing to say - or draw - first.]

[Carefully, he draws a diagram of unmistakable meaning: Robert is not allowed in the winter room anymore.]

[The man's face falls at this, and he looks up at Don with a slightly pained expression.]

You... d-do not want me - [... For a moment, he looks like he might protest, but then his shoulders slump as all the fight drains out of him.]

... Alright. However, my... my p-plants... [Well, he was considering using the room as a greenhouse for them if Don allowed it. Obviously he'll need to do something else now.]

[Now wait a minute. With the general topic successfully communicated, Don adds a second picture under the first. This one conveys the idea of "Turtle at work". The ban is for safety reasons.]

[... Oh. Any residual hurt melts out of Robert's features at that.

Well. He can understand that, then, if Don's just worried about him getting hurt. But -]

... You do not... r-require assistance?

[Shakes his head - no.]

[And then he sets the notebook down. There is one more subject on his mind, but he is reluctant to mention it.]

[Robert can tell that there's something on the Turtle's mind, now. The way Don gets this kind of... clouded expression - hard for Robert to put into words, but it's like his focus isn't entirely there.

He sits there quietly for a moment, before gently pressing into Don's side instead. If Don doesn't want to talk about it for now, that's okay.]

... I ought to... make us some food, in case the power g-goes out... [He says it almost conversationally, though he's not really worried. He more wants an excuse to feed Don.]

[Don moves away, just slightly - his bruises are still tender, and being leaned on doesn't do them any favors - and looks out the window. The weather has gotten fiercer since he last paid attention to it, and he wonders if it might cause worse damage than a power outage.]

[Robert doesn't really catch the slight motion here, but as he leans away as well to stand up, it ends up not mattering very much.

He picks his words carefully as he's faced away.]

... I was thinking of... something l-light. [As though the idea were purely for his own benefit alone. (Robert is not any good at disguising his intentions, though, so this ploy is as see-through as air.)] Would you be... a-adverse to steamed rice?

Perhaps even some t-tea... it might be enjoyable to watch the storm if it does not progress too dangerously... [He's never seen a tornado before.]

[Don shrugs, indifferent. Do what you want.]

[What he wants to do is make sure that you don't starve, you silly Turtle.

Regardless, he goes off to the kitchen without trying to look too worried as he glances back over his shoulder. Soon enough, the warmth of steam and the scent of green tea might waft out over to where Don is. Is it tempting enough to coax him into the kitchen proper?]

[Nope. Don just rearranges the blankets and stares out the window.]

[After a long enough period of time, then, Robert will enter the room carrying a tray.

The tray has been arranged with a simple bowl of rice, a pair of chopsticks resting from left-to-right next to the bowl, and a small traditional Japanese cup of green tea. Robert places the tray in front of Don with a small, encouraging smile and sits nearby with his own cup.]

[When Don sees this offering, he doesn't know whether to smile or cry. It's so much like what Leo or Master Splinter would have done for him if he were feeling unwell and needed stomach-friendly comfort food.]

[He avoids the issue by turning away, burying himself deeper in the pile of blankets.]

[That's okay. Robert's not going to push. He just leaves the tray there - doesn't tell Don to eat, doesn't admonish him; just sits there and drinks his tea quietly.

Truth is, he arranged the tray like that - like how his achingly-sharp memory of Splinter and Leo dictates - because he wanted to try to emulate that. He knows it isn't the same, but he wanted to try.]

[It's so close it hurts - as though his father or brother were just out of sight in the kitchen, instead of infinitely far away.]

[Under the covers, Don might be crying a little after all, silent and invisible.]

[It might be silent and invisible, but Robert is still worried by that, that closed-off-ness. It's familiar behaviour because it is so frighteningly close to his own.

His expression softens, and eventually he puts his tea down, shifting a little closer to Don. He's not entirely certain if he should try to touch the bundled-up Turtle on the couch, but something tells him that Don doing this isn't very good.]

[Under normal circumstances Don would be able to sense this approach, but the combination of emotional distress and physical security have nearly obliterated his usual alertness to his surroundings. He doesn't notice a thing.]

[Robert knows from experience that sneaking up on Don is a Bad Idea. So instead of going to touch him, he instead murmurs, loud enough to be heard but hopefully not loud enough to frighten.]

... Don... a-are, are you alright...?

[No, he is not all right. A small noise of distress, and then Don stands abruptly. The tray somehow vanishes under his blanket, and he escapes into his room, closing the door behind him.]

[... Oh.

Alone in the suddenly-oppressive room, Robert sits silently, not even able to summon the composure necessary to stand and follow Don.

Instead he stares at the tea. The surface is rippled with just the barest hints of Don's movement still stirring it. A part of Robert fancies that Leo might've put it down, or something equally inane.

He's not really sure when he starts crying, but it must be happening, because his face is wet.]

Luceti Appointments

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