[ The door slides open, revealing the glorified closet that is an officer's cabin on a Royal Navy vessel, entirely unchanged since Ulla last saw it in the day of Fitzjames's arrival. Fitzjames himself is in his shirtsleeves and has a makeshift bandage awkwardly tied around his upper left arm and shoulder. There is quite a bit of blood on his shirt. ]
The size of the cabin presents a predicament. Ulla doesn't think she can
maneuver her transportation device into the space, so it will have to stay
in the hall. "I'm sorry, I'm going to get the floor wet. I can clean up
later."
And she'll lever her exhausted self out of the water, wincing at the strain
of what would normally be a simple, if awkward maneuver. She flops onto
the floor with none of her usual grace, bringing to mind a landed fish.
Ulla tugs her long tail into the room far enough to shut the door behind
her, folding it under her, absolutely exhausted by the effort.
"You needn't—" he starts to protest, but she's already half out, and all he can do is try to assist her, gritting his teeth against the pain in his injured arm.
When she goes to slide the door shut, he hesitates for just a moment before ducking down to ensure that the end of her tail doesn't get caught, only wondering as he's already doing so as to whether he's overstepping.
"I'm sorry," he says, looking around at the space that is now almost entirely filled by Ulla—such that he's sort of cornered against the edge of his berth. "I—I ought to have gone to you."
"It's fine," Ulla tells him, dry humor momentarily overriding exhaustion.
"I don't mind. And I'd rather you safely in here than out in that mess,
but once the seas calm I'm going to ask you again if you'd like a larger
cabin."
She offered a cabin change on day one, but perhaps he'll take her up on it
this time.
"Let me see your arm, please. Whatever this is has me weaker than usual,
but that doesn't look too bad. It would be a sorry state of affairs if I
couldn't do something about it."
He unwinds the bandage from his shoulder and gingerly removes his shirt so that she can get a better look at it. There's an ugly slash across the bicep that goes right over the musket-ball scar, and another across the top of the shoulder. Both are still oozing blood.
It really hurts like hell, but Fitzjames is used to carrying on through pain.
"The woman who did this was not in her right mind," he says. "I can't blame her for it. Fortunately, Herr Leickenbloom was able to stop her, or else it could have gone much more poorly."
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no subject
Where are you? [Ulla sounds absolutely drained, but determined to come and find him immediately. Then she remembers she can use her warden item.]
Never mind. Get somewhere safe if you can, and I'll be there momentarily.
no subject
My cabin.
[ But he can hear in her voice how tired she sounds. ]
Don't exert yourself unnecessarily. I've been hurt worse before.
no subject
Nonsense. I'll use the device from Warren. I don't even need to travel under my own power.
I'll be right there. [There's hardly any wait before she's knocking on his door.]
no subject
[ The door slides open, revealing the glorified closet that is an officer's cabin on a Royal Navy vessel, entirely unchanged since Ulla last saw it in the day of Fitzjames's arrival. Fitzjames himself is in his shirtsleeves and has a makeshift bandage awkwardly tied around his upper left arm and shoulder. There is quite a bit of blood on his shirt. ]
no subject
The size of the cabin presents a predicament. Ulla doesn't think she can maneuver her transportation device into the space, so it will have to stay in the hall. "I'm sorry, I'm going to get the floor wet. I can clean up later."
And she'll lever her exhausted self out of the water, wincing at the strain of what would normally be a simple, if awkward maneuver. She flops onto the floor with none of her usual grace, bringing to mind a landed fish. Ulla tugs her long tail into the room far enough to shut the door behind her, folding it under her, absolutely exhausted by the effort.
no subject
"You needn't—" he starts to protest, but she's already half out, and all he can do is try to assist her, gritting his teeth against the pain in his injured arm.
When she goes to slide the door shut, he hesitates for just a moment before ducking down to ensure that the end of her tail doesn't get caught, only wondering as he's already doing so as to whether he's overstepping.
"I'm sorry," he says, looking around at the space that is now almost entirely filled by Ulla—such that he's sort of cornered against the edge of his berth. "I—I ought to have gone to you."
no subject
"It's fine," Ulla tells him, dry humor momentarily overriding exhaustion. "I don't mind. And I'd rather you safely in here than out in that mess, but once the seas calm I'm going to ask you again if you'd like a larger cabin."
She offered a cabin change on day one, but perhaps he'll take her up on it this time.
"Let me see your arm, please. Whatever this is has me weaker than usual, but that doesn't look too bad. It would be a sorry state of affairs if I couldn't do something about it."
no subject
He unwinds the bandage from his shoulder and gingerly removes his shirt so that she can get a better look at it. There's an ugly slash across the bicep that goes right over the musket-ball scar, and another across the top of the shoulder. Both are still oozing blood.
It really hurts like hell, but Fitzjames is used to carrying on through pain.
"The woman who did this was not in her right mind," he says. "I can't blame her for it. Fortunately, Herr Leickenbloom was able to stop her, or else it could have gone much more poorly."