If they're talking, it's okay for Hannibal to come into her room. That's just one of the rules they've sorted out, some spoken and some not. He's told her it's okay that you don't always want to talk and you're allowed to want to be alone in your own space, but he's also made it clear that she has to reopen those doors when she's ready. She can't expect other people to magically know what she wants the second she decides she wants it. They never sat down and decided on signals or anything, but 'Patricia starts a conversation' turned into one anyway. She's okay with that.
She's not okay that stuff keeps happening that scares not just her, but people around her, too. Only what's she supposed to do about that? How's she supposed to stop that, or control it? Triss bites her lip, nods, and reaches up to shut the door so she can change clothes. So she can think about it for a second.
When the door opens again she's wearing her jellyfish shirt and a pair of shorts, because rolling up jeans sucks bad enough when your knee isn't purple and blue and the size of a softball. "It bit me," she sulks and picks at the hem of her shorts instead of scratching at the raw skin down the inside of her legs, like she really wants.
Hannibal used to be a doctor, and even though Neph's never met anybody he took care of, she assumes he was a good one. She's been to lots of doctors, she appreciates quick and relatively painless. Hannibal doesn't have to ask her dumb questions she can't answer anymore, either, which is always a plus. She follows him silently to the master bath, where they keep the big first aid kit, and hops up on the toilet without being asked.
While he plucks out all the stuff he'll need - antiseptic packets, sterile pads, wipes, gauze - she asks, "Do you think they know stuff?" a pause, while she chews some dry skin off her lips, then, "Like...stuff we need to know too?"
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She's not okay that stuff keeps happening that scares not just her, but people around her, too. Only what's she supposed to do about that? How's she supposed to stop that, or control it? Triss bites her lip, nods, and reaches up to shut the door so she can change clothes. So she can think about it for a second.
When the door opens again she's wearing her jellyfish shirt and a pair of shorts, because rolling up jeans sucks bad enough when your knee isn't purple and blue and the size of a softball. "It bit me," she sulks and picks at the hem of her shorts instead of scratching at the raw skin down the inside of her legs, like she really wants.
Hannibal used to be a doctor, and even though Neph's never met anybody he took care of, she assumes he was a good one. She's been to lots of doctors, she appreciates quick and relatively painless. Hannibal doesn't have to ask her dumb questions she can't answer anymore, either, which is always a plus. She follows him silently to the master bath, where they keep the big first aid kit, and hops up on the toilet without being asked.
While he plucks out all the stuff he'll need - antiseptic packets, sterile pads, wipes, gauze - she asks, "Do you think they know stuff?" a pause, while she chews some dry skin off her lips, then, "Like...stuff we need to know too?"