[The ceiling is covered in ugly stucco-- pretty much everything ABOUT this building is ugly, really. But Heather had at least tried to remedy that by criss-crossing it with lights and various hanging baubles. Most look old, or home-made.]
[When he flops down, she turns in her seat a little bit to look down at him with a crooked, slightly-sad smile. Now that they've both gotten over the initial shock, the little differences are starting to pop out, loss of imaginary six-packs aside. The tan that Heather had picked up over the course of her time in Johto is gone entirely, for instance-- when she'd come back, it had been like it had never existed. Same with the scars on her hands.]
[She shakes her head at the apology.]
For disappearing?
You don't need to apologize.
... We all knew it could happen.
... Would happen.
[Even if she'd foolishly assumed that it wouldn't. Not to him. Or to HER, eventually.]
[When he'd disappeared, she had been angry. Angry at everything and at nothing. Angry at herself for once again taking things for granted, and... well, admittedly, angry at him. Angry because she'd known he had wanted to go home.]
[... But, well... that had been a long time ago, and even then, she'd known the anger was nothing but grief. It had faded eventually, as she'd known it would.]
[Reaching over, she lays a hand on his shoulder.]
... I did get your letter. ... And two of your... your team.
no subject
[When he flops down, she turns in her seat a little bit to look down at him with a crooked, slightly-sad smile. Now that they've both gotten over the initial shock, the little differences are starting to pop out, loss of imaginary six-packs aside. The tan that Heather had picked up over the course of her time in Johto is gone entirely, for instance-- when she'd come back, it had been like it had never existed. Same with the scars on her hands.]
[She shakes her head at the apology.]
For disappearing?
You don't need to apologize.
... We all knew it could happen.
... Would happen.
[Even if she'd foolishly assumed that it wouldn't. Not to him. Or to HER, eventually.]
[When he'd disappeared, she had been angry. Angry at everything and at nothing. Angry at herself for once again taking things for granted, and... well, admittedly, angry at him. Angry because she'd known he had wanted to go home.]
[... But, well... that had been a long time ago, and even then, she'd known the anger was nothing but grief. It had faded eventually, as she'd known it would.]
[Reaching over, she lays a hand on his shoulder.]
... I did get your letter. ... And two of your... your team.
When you went.