[JUST A BIT. Let me go back and tag it so i can figure out how concerned she is.
That said, she is absolutely double taking at the curve of the letters spelling out an all too familiar name. None of the lettering has been particularly positive, so what is she supposed to do here?
Camille clears her throat. Gently. Feeling grateful for the extra cover of her extra modest clothes.]
[he hardly seems aware of the blanket, but reflexively pulls it around himself anyway. a barrier, a form of safety, a little warmth; he's still a little distant when he speaks, not quite focused.]
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That said, she is absolutely double taking at the curve of the letters spelling out an all too familiar name. None of the lettering has been particularly positive, so what is she supposed to do here?
Camille clears her throat. Gently. Feeling grateful for the extra cover of her extra modest clothes.]
Hey. Mathis.
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[he barely glances up, looking- almost a little dazed, still holding his head.
very bad time for a headache.]
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[Oof, looks rough. Worrying calligraphy aside the kid probably needs an aspirin more than a grilling.]
I think Alfyn has some painkillers in the works. You need me to go check?
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[he shakes his head, with a stifled whine as the motion makes it briefly worse.]
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[No meds. Maybe that's for the best, at least coming from her. Was this something to do with the sickness he mentioned earlier?
Camille approaches gently, putting a hand to his back and rubbing softly.]
What can I do to help?
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[the touch seems to help, though, comforting enough for him to start relaxing into it. it's soothing.]
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[She has her doubts. About her, about him, about her taking care of him. Camille stays put even so, soothing the smooth stretch of his back.
A phantom hand draws a long stroke down her own spine. Manicured nails. Camille shivers and stills.]
Walk me through it. What's going on Mathis? Is this the sickness you were talking about?
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[she might notice, since she's touching him, that there's not a lot of warmth to be felt through his clothes; his body temperature seems to run low.]
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She shivers, pulling away a moment.]
Let me grab you a blanket. [She moves. Here, quickly. A barrier between them, settled prettily over his frail shoulders.]
Mathis, can you answer something for me? [Gentle comes her hand, delicate atop the blanket.] You got my name written on you.
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[he hardly seems aware of the blanket, but reflexively pulls it around himself anyway. a barrier, a form of safety, a little warmth; he's still a little distant when he speaks, not quite focused.]
I... I'm sorry, I can't r-remember... what it is.
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It's Camille.
[He's running cold, but she presses the back of her palm to his forehead.]
Are you feeling dizzy?
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[she presses her hand to his head, and his breath hitches, eyes wide. a little fearful, a little uncertain.
please don't kill me, camille-!
but this isn't...
that isn't his face. that isn't his voice.]
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[He looks petrified. Okay, hand is gone, hands off, hands up in the peace motion.]
What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost.
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[still a little out of it, from how distant his tone is.]
He was... killed. He- [mathis blinks, then frowns.] No, he isn't... I don't-
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First time she's heard it used for a man. Not like it's a common one to begin with.]
Hey, hey... [She risks a reach again. Same shoulder. Very light, very brush-offable.] It's okay. We're far away from all that.
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[this is somewhere else. somewhere distant.
mathis is still out of it, but the touch is fine. he doesn't pull away, letting her.]
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[Camille lets it turn into a rub then, slow and thoughtful. Something grounding as the kid drifts back from the stratosphere.]
It's just you and me right now, Mathis. He's gone.