The icepack's starting to go smushy. Triss checks out of the conversation to consider her options when all the ice inevitably melts. Already it's trickling down her leg, dampening bandages and wetting down tape. Oh, well, she can just fix it herself before bed.
Bed? Bed was a few hours ago. Are they all gonna go through the whole day pretending like they got sleep? Or can she take a nap after this? A bath and then a nap, with some food in there somewhere? Will there be food after these guys leave? She can't imagine Hannibal cooking for them, not right away. Tea's probably about as good as they're gonna get for now.
She straightens up when Ruth calls him 'her father', looking to him to see if he verifies it as fact. She doesn't mean to, but it's a sticky thing they don't really talk about - in public they're parent and kid, 'cuz that's what people expect and it's easier that way. At home, he's never asked her to call him 'dad' or 'father' or anything except 'not Dr. Lecter, that's for colleagues and patients', so she's always just settled on 'Hannibal'. They're at home now, so--
Argus and Ruth look at each other, and then very intently back at Hannibal, when he explains about the adoption. Argus' head tilts again. Danae continues frowning out the window. Triss gnaws on her lip and watches, watches for any sign of what they might be thinking. Now that they know she's adopted, can they guess the rest? That her parents didn't want her? That she scared them, that she's hurt people, can they figure out about the--no, no. She shoots Hannibal an alarmed grimace when he talks about 'courts involved in her case'; that sounds so bad, like there was something wrong enough for them to notice. Which, there was, but these people don't need to know that.
Oddly, it's Danae she catches watching her from the corner of her eye. The thin woman's face has gone flat and unreadable, at least from this angle, but she doesn't pretend like she wasn't watching. She just blinks once, slow and unbothered, before directing her eyes back out the window.
"We hope so, too," Argus says simply. "There are some types of inborn magic that the fae have very, very strong feelings about. "Luckily those are pretty easy to test for."
"Test?" ice clatters to the floor, spilling out of the towel and Triss' spasming hands. She winces apologetically at Hannibal and hunches down in her chair.
"Nothing painful or scary," Argus goes wide-eyed at her reaction, hands opening wide on the tabletop. "It just checks to see if you react to certain substances. Like...like an allergy test."
Triss had a bunch of those done during the early days with CPS - every kid did, since you couldn't send somebody with a serious peanut allergy into a house full of JIF. If she has any allergies at all, they weren't common enough to turn up on the tests, so the example doesn't carry any unpleasantly itchy associations. She sits up a little, nodding her understanding. Argus smiles back, relieved around the edges of his own exhaustion.
"Those 'substances' are things you'd have to eat, though," Ruth cups her tea between her hands, her frown a worried echo of Danae's. "I know you weren't comfortable with accepting anything from us earlier--"
"--smart," Danae grunts.
"--but that's up to you. The two of you," Ruth amends, and sips her tea.
Triss sucks her whole bottom lip into her mouth. When Hannibal brings her her own cup, she cranes her head back and stares up at him, her whole face a question. Is it okay? Should I? They're strangers and it's not smart but we're at home so is it safe?
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-06-05 11:07 pm (UTC)Bed? Bed was a few hours ago. Are they all gonna go through the whole day pretending like they got sleep? Or can she take a nap after this? A bath and then a nap, with some food in there somewhere? Will there be food after these guys leave? She can't imagine Hannibal cooking for them, not right away. Tea's probably about as good as they're gonna get for now.
She straightens up when Ruth calls him 'her father', looking to him to see if he verifies it as fact. She doesn't mean to, but it's a sticky thing they don't really talk about - in public they're parent and kid, 'cuz that's what people expect and it's easier that way. At home, he's never asked her to call him 'dad' or 'father' or anything except 'not Dr. Lecter, that's for colleagues and patients', so she's always just settled on 'Hannibal'. They're at home now, so--
Argus and Ruth look at each other, and then very intently back at Hannibal, when he explains about the adoption. Argus' head tilts again. Danae continues frowning out the window. Triss gnaws on her lip and watches, watches for any sign of what they might be thinking. Now that they know she's adopted, can they guess the rest? That her parents didn't want her? That she scared them, that she's hurt people, can they figure out about the--no, no. She shoots Hannibal an alarmed grimace when he talks about 'courts involved in her case'; that sounds so bad, like there was something wrong enough for them to notice. Which, there was, but these people don't need to know that.
Oddly, it's Danae she catches watching her from the corner of her eye. The thin woman's face has gone flat and unreadable, at least from this angle, but she doesn't pretend like she wasn't watching. She just blinks once, slow and unbothered, before directing her eyes back out the window.
"We hope so, too," Argus says simply. "There are some types of inborn magic that the fae have very, very strong feelings about. "Luckily those are pretty easy to test for."
"Test?" ice clatters to the floor, spilling out of the towel and Triss' spasming hands. She winces apologetically at Hannibal and hunches down in her chair.
"Nothing painful or scary," Argus goes wide-eyed at her reaction, hands opening wide on the tabletop. "It just checks to see if you react to certain substances. Like...like an allergy test."
Triss had a bunch of those done during the early days with CPS - every kid did, since you couldn't send somebody with a serious peanut allergy into a house full of JIF. If she has any allergies at all, they weren't common enough to turn up on the tests, so the example doesn't carry any unpleasantly itchy associations. She sits up a little, nodding her understanding. Argus smiles back, relieved around the edges of his own exhaustion.
"Those 'substances' are things you'd have to eat, though," Ruth cups her tea between her hands, her frown a worried echo of Danae's. "I know you weren't comfortable with accepting anything from us earlier--"
"--smart," Danae grunts.
"--but that's up to you. The two of you," Ruth amends, and sips her tea.
Triss sucks her whole bottom lip into her mouth. When Hannibal brings her her own cup, she cranes her head back and stares up at him, her whole face a question. Is it okay? Should I? They're strangers and it's not smart but we're at home so is it safe?
What if it's a trap?