John Tillman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slayer_not_player) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2014-03-26 12:03 am
slayer_not_player) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-03-26 12:03 am
Entry tags:
There are good times to be had
CHARACTERS: Tillman and Heather
LOCATION: Heather's room
WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: Feelings. Feelings as far as the eye can see.
Note: Mega back-dated.
Tillman was good at strategy, at combat, at assessing in an instant whether it was better to take cover or push forward. He could sense a bluff and hold his own expression stony under the most stressful situations.
In the idle time between ship-wide emergencies, the majority of Tillman's skill set was entirely useless. Sure, he could spend it on patrol, alert and armed, and generally did-- but since Heather's injury, he had spent a lot less time doing so. He knew better than to spew cliches about getting well or the aesthetics. There was a time and a place for words, and although he often had trouble finding it, silence had suited them well for the many hours that they had spent shoulder to shoulder in her room.
Sometimes he would sort the tangles out of her hair with clumsy fingers as she stared ahead. He was there to tuck her face into his chest on those rare occasions that the sense of loss would break her composure.
Tillman entered Heather's room with a grilled cheese sandwich wrapped in foil and a deck of faded cards scrounged up from a drawer in the kitchen. While he had no problem sitting still as a sniper for extended periods, it tended to concern the general population. Shuffling cards was an amiable compromise, and hell, if she was up for it, they could play a game.
LOCATION: Heather's room
WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: Feelings. Feelings as far as the eye can see.
Note: Mega back-dated.
Tillman was good at strategy, at combat, at assessing in an instant whether it was better to take cover or push forward. He could sense a bluff and hold his own expression stony under the most stressful situations.
In the idle time between ship-wide emergencies, the majority of Tillman's skill set was entirely useless. Sure, he could spend it on patrol, alert and armed, and generally did-- but since Heather's injury, he had spent a lot less time doing so. He knew better than to spew cliches about getting well or the aesthetics. There was a time and a place for words, and although he often had trouble finding it, silence had suited them well for the many hours that they had spent shoulder to shoulder in her room.
Sometimes he would sort the tangles out of her hair with clumsy fingers as she stared ahead. He was there to tuck her face into his chest on those rare occasions that the sense of loss would break her composure.
Tillman entered Heather's room with a grilled cheese sandwich wrapped in foil and a deck of faded cards scrounged up from a drawer in the kitchen. While he had no problem sitting still as a sniper for extended periods, it tended to concern the general population. Shuffling cards was an amiable compromise, and hell, if she was up for it, they could play a game.