[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]her body stills at the presence, at the voice that follows. and as he settles into a stool beside her, pale bangs shield dull eyes.

the half empty glass in her grasp is barely even a lifeline but it's clutched all the same.

"you could say that," she murmurs. each day has been rough as time shuffles on from the latest aqua assembly. here, without her lab coat to be a makeshift shield... the deep cuts of war unfurl in low bar lighting. it looks gnarly up close. jagged edges start at the shoulder and dip down across to the bottom of a hip. and somehow, it's better than it was before. no longer bloody, painful, and opening whenever she moves.

her mobility has returned, at least. and with it, her staggered return to work.

today had been particularly hard. he's right on the money with that one, at least. work piles up between being stuck in a hospital and during the holiday season. and while illeana reyes has performed admirably under pressure, there's an air clinging to her that didn't exist before. not quite an insecurity but perhaps a wariness? a feeling of constantly having to watch her back, as if her sea counterpart is about to return at any moment.

even his presence sends her skin mildly crawling... a first of, unfortunately, many. she knocks back the rest of her drink to combat the sensation but it does nothing in the end.

"what about you?"

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]his answer is chewed on with a short silence. whether it's a lie or not makes no difference to her. not really, anyway.

he's still here, settling in and ordering drinks of his own. and maybe the company is almost welcomed but she's still finding her footing after the past few months. their relationship has cracked and she sees glimpses of the past laced into the present: when she was bright eyed, bushy tailed, and so full of hope.

and isn't it sad to recognize where her hope went? looking back, she'd say it died with ALEXANDER STONE.

"four?" only then does her head turn to regard him. bags settle beneath usually brighter eyes and there's a not quite far but not quite near look behind her expression. she had tried to tame her hair into a high ponytail but even that, in the end, looks haggard.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]a hum of agreement claws out of her throat. it's a flat note, exhausted even before it takes its first breath.

"i see," she offers finally, eyes lazily observing the bartender's work.

and eventually, four glasses are presented in a neat row. fernando takes a glass and his eyes drift toward her. expectancy burns holes into her body until she feels like nothing but hollow bones. it's not exactly an unfamiliar sensation, per se, but it's slowly begun to make her skin crawl like thousands of centipedes.

her fingers wrap around glass and raise it up, anyway.

"cheers."

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]the alcohol burns as it goes down. it leaves a scrunched nose and a more prominent frown. and where it ignites the throat, it also paints over everything else.

the empty glass is discarded for the full, the soft clinking sound feeling like it rings loudly in her ears.

"fine," she offers with a roll of scarred shoulders. it's barely a passable lie but things between them are weird, unsettled, changed. besides... does her boss really want to hear about the deep recesses of her mind?

no, definitely not. and so, she deflects the question back to him, spiking it over the net like one would a volleyball.

"how about you?"

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]he outlines what almost feels like the norm for him.

is there ever a time where it's not chaotic, busy, or otherwise? no... she doesn't think so.

"the usual, then," she murmurs. somehow, she expected as much. "do you ever get tired of it?" the chaotic busy, anyway. he'd probably work himself to death if he could.

drinks come, run empty, and go all in quick succession. alcohol dulls and numbs what she needs, what she wants. and when the choice is left to her, she simply... sticks with routine.

"the same, please." she flashes a tiny smile in the bartender's direction and it comes off exactly how she feels: tired, ripping at the seams.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]of course... the answer is expected. it tastes bitter in her mouth, sticking to tongue and teeth until she's hurrying the shot process along to rid herself of the taste.

it barely works, anyway, by the time the first shot goes down.

the second is raised, gestured toward him, and then swallowed all the same.

and when empty glasses clink back into their old space, she heaves a soft sigh. her head turns fully toward him. the smile is worn, frayed, struggling.

"i dunno, people who love their lives?" the laugh is bitter, slightly broken... much like herself, really.

been cut open like an animal does that to someone. breaks them down, knocks over what little foundation they have, and forces realization to settle in: you're not invincible and you will die.

the clock keeps on ticking.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]is that what she's saying..?

the question throws her into contemplative silence. she's prided herself on her ability to get back up after being knocked around. the stubbornness to not fall kept her going for so long. and like all things, it eventually expired.

it leaves her in a state of limbo: existing in no realm yet longing for both.

"i -- i'm not sure." she settles on the truth because when has he ever known her to lie? "depends on the day, perhaps."

she could step down. maybe sometimes, she even should... but what else would she do? she was made for this. born and bred to be the best for her family's legacy, beaten down until all she knew was her work.

and what do you do when you're nothing like you were made to be?

you become better.

"i'll step down when i'm dead, fernando."

otherwise, there's no place for her at his side. an unsettling thought, really, but it's one she keeps close to her chest in a box marked for anxious thinking.

"there's still work to be done. you know that as well as i do."

FERNANDO SILPH