kayakking | (no subject)

[That came out in a bit of a rush. Jon looks at him, confused and questioning.]

It's... going to be a lot of work. Just to get everything outfitted, let alone getting me used to it all.

Right. Padding, open, stable spaces, I've been thinking of swapping to a conduction oven- and we can start using a raised labelmaker for most of the sundries.

[He IS a researcher.]

I mean. Here you don't have to worry about breaking the lease to get it up to snuff.

[The fact that amid everything going on, Tim had put any thought towards it was surprising.]

... Are you quite sure? Because I can guarantee I will not be pleasant to be around for some time after.

[Jon is planning on putting your eyes out... it's going to rate some mental real estate here, regardless of everything going on...]

Yeah? I mean, I'm still your friend now, and good heavens you were a complete arse for a bit there.

I think I can handle some justifiable frustration.

I only... I-it's your home, I didn't want to cause you to change it on account of me.

[Ever British.]

[It's just this face, really.]

.... Come off it.

Nnno, you come off it.

[It's not the FULL FIGHT TONE, but it is getting into that obstinately stubborn range. He... settles back and opens his hands, tone getting milder.]

This is your place as long as you want it.

[Jon feels like he's getting ready for a fight. But just as soon as he's puffing himself up to be ready, Tim backs it down. It's easy to settle down again at that.]

...Thank you, Tim.

[It's too nice, right now, to push into it. And Tim's been keeping a close hold on that temper.

And... well... today being the day it is.]

You're welcome.

I mean, [Quirk of a smile.] in both senses.

Of course.

[He gives a little shove of shoulders.]

What do you need me to do before I, um. Do it?

[The shove gets a grin and he gamely falls back into the cushions.

Once there though, he stares up at the ceiling.]

Are we talking pratical or emotional, here?

Either? Both?

Practical first, I guess. That's the easy bit.

Your NHS number, probably? Passwords too, until we get everything settled. Have you worked out the story?

Right, of course. I'll get those for you and the Martins.

[The story though... He rubs his mouth a bit.]

Home accident. Spilled bleach and couldn't get safely where I could rinse it out.

Yeah, that'll do it.

[God, there really is no NOT terrible way to do this, is there?]

[There really isn't.]

Figure that's halfway believable.

It.. yeah. Plenty of panic around that.

[Speaking of..] We're not going to be doing that delay bit, though. Right? Deed done, 999 punched right in.

... Maybe just a few minutes to make sure it sticks.

[God.]

You're SURE?

If I'm going to try to get out, I want to be certain it'll last.

Right. Right.

God, that answer if you're sure about all of it, right and clear.

...I'm sorry, Tim. It's... probably going to be a mess.

You don't need to apologize. Just..

I promise. As little as possible is going to change, okay?

...Big promise.

[He takes a deep breath, looking to the others again, the lights and decorations.]

I'll do my best to make it as easy as I can.