simon_doctor | (no subject)

Kaylee's back hurts, and she just cut the hell out of her arm.

Easier to go into Simon's kit than dig around in the infirmary. She comes in, hair hanging in her eyes, slightly dirty rag on her forearm. "Hey." Absent.

"Hey," he says, equally absent, and then takes a second look and straightens. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Your kit around?"

"Over by the door." He points with his chin.

"Xiexie." She kneels by it, and undoes the zipper one-handed.

He moves closer. "Do you need a hand?"

Kaylee shakes her head. "Don't bother yourself -- got to go back to it in a minute. Just here to patch myself."

He can see from here that it's not too bad a cut.

"All right," he says, and leans against the desk.

"...Do you have a moment, though, as long as you're here?"

"I'm a captive gorram audience," she says, a little dry, as she rummages for a bandage.

He's really not sure how to bring this up, but --

Well, he's at least going to wait until she's got the bandage on.

"I came across these books while I was packing," he says, after a moment's pause for that, "and I was wondering where you're going to want them when we unpack."

She's got the paper crumpled and shoved in her pocket, and is in the process of digging out something for her back.

She glances up.

She sits back on her heels, expression schooled.

Very quiet: "They're stayin' with me. And I'd thank you to put 'em where you found 'em."

Her tone's mild enough, but the words make him rock back slightly.

"I ... of course." Half a beat. "They were in the junk drawer. I was ... trying to sort things for packing, that's all."

"It's my fault," she says, simply. And: "I got to get back to work."

"Are you," he says uncertainly, and "...I didn't realize it was meant to be secret."

Which isn't entirely the case, but --

He doesn't understand why it was meant to be secret.

"If it was secret I would've hidden it better."

She'll just get something from the bar.

She winces as she stands, a hand going to her lower back.

"So ..."

Pause.

Tentatively: "Can I ask what it's for?"

Kaylee regards him for a moment.

Doesn't say, the titles ought to make it obvious.

Says instead, "If you're gonna be away all the time, I reckon I'm gonna need somethin' to do, don't you?"

A beat.

And he starts to smile, small and wondering. "You're going to start your own business on Praxed."

"I'm going to try," she corrects. "There's stuff I got to do first. If I'm gonna do it right."

"That would be the investing?" He touches the cover of the second book.

Kaylee nods.

With quiet conviction: "You don't know how many times I -- "

Pause.

Kaylee bites her lower lip. And says, more mild, "I just don't think it's smart to have all that money and leave it idle when I could be puttin' it to work. And I'd rather run a business on the profit of it until it gets going."

What she didn't say: You don't know how many times I watched my father's business fail during lean times, and what it did to him.

He doesn't know what she was going to say, and is a little afraid to ask.

"That makes a lot of sense," he says instead. "You've been thinking a lot about this."

"Plannin' it for a while now," she agrees.

A little defensively.

"I see." Quiet.

He's trying to figure out a way to ask why didn't you want to tell me? that doesn't sound accusatory.

"So." She shrugs. "Now you know. I got work to do."

She's trying to tell herself that it doesn't matter if he doesn't approve, that she's a grown woman and it's her money and she's just trying to do right.