Forgive me, please. Sometimes I can be nothing but gloomy and boring.
There comes a point where the mask starts to slip a little. The facade of showing that truly caring nature can fall by the wayside and now... the faltering emotions below the surface begin to rear their ugly heads.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, asking for her to speak and there was the moment of potential irritation that swam through his body effortlessly at the fact that she -- of all people -- wouldn't speak.
In an attempt to quiet the concern that bubbled in him, she smiled. Her hand coming to run fingers through a sea of blonde hair and scratch almost nervously at her scalp for just a moment. "Camden." She replied, a waver in her voice though she followed with a strong roll of her eyes to offset the curious nature she knew was deeply rooted in him. It'd been there since they were children and sure as hell didn't stop or really lessen with age.
I sure as hell am no mind reader. The thought of someone being able to set foot into her mind was revolting. The begging and pleading to fit in with someone else was so apparent and now she was stuck with the idea of someone being able to set foot into her mind. Once the idea had subsided, she shook her head in a subtle manner as to rid herself of the thought and proceeded to smile again; trying to offset the worry that was obviously laced within his tone.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I just am a little tired. Shifts at the hospital have been exhausting lately and I have been having a hard time sleeping. It's just -- it's been weighing on me hard lately. That's all." At least most of what she was saying was true. The hospital had been a place for her to escape before; fulfilling that need that anyone else may need her help. The need for her to have been present because it could save someone's life was overwhelmingly positive but now... it was becoming something a little more negative.
"Can -- can I get you something to drink or eat since you stopped on by? I was in the process of cooking dinner and it's only me and bandit here tonight so I've got extras." In an attempt to bypass the conversation, mention of bandit -- her red and white border collie who had quietly sat down by the pair's feet could hopefully help to push the conversation elsewhere. Focusing too much on the fact that she had gone radio silent could be problematic; it could allow, for once in her life, someone to see that there was a different person beneath the surface. Someone who wanted so badly to heal from her trauma but instead used the building blocks of her life to keep herself safe.
