simon_doctor | (no subject)

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.

"Did you ..." He bites his lower lip. "Did you think I'd object? To the idea?"

"I didn't know if you'd like it."

Beat. She turns and looks at him. With a sigh: "And I just want something that's mine. You're gonna be gone a lot. I know that. Can I just have something that's mine to do?"

"... Of course." As though there's no reason to even ask.

"Okay, well -- " Kaylee gestures at the books. "This is it."

Simon nods. "I'll pack them with your things, then."

A beat.

"Just," he starts, looking down at his hands, and doesn't quite seem to know how to continue the sentence.

She waits, wary.

"Does ... " His fingers twine together. "For something to be just yours, does that have to mean I don't know about it?"

Because if it does -- well. He'll have to try to accept it, that's all; try to be okay with it.

Kaylee's mouth tightens, and she looks away.

Low: "I knew you'd react like this."

"Like what?"

It's not a challenge; it's an honest question.