"Let me — I'll go digest that while I get your tea. I'll be right back. You can... stay right there."
He needs to get up and get out of here and go stand in the hallway and breathe for a few seconds, because this is too much. Who did this? Who dropped her in his path again? Who changed her?
Out in the hall, Josh presses a hand to his forehead, gaze unfocused and glassy.
What he can't decide is whether he feels anger or relief or regret or longing, or if it's a mix of them all that's churning its way through his chest like a summer storm. What went differently? What did she do differently, to wind up like this?
And what the fuck is he supposed to do with those memories?
He returns in a few minutes, carrying a mug of tea, perfectly steeped. It's a skill he's picked up thanks to one of the interns, who caught him Doing It Wrong one day and set him on the right path after. By yelling. He sets it down on the desk in front of Bennett, then drops back into his chair.
"That pile of paperwork over there," he says, gesturing at a stack of files on the bookshelf to Bennett's left, like he wasn't just in the middle of an existential crisis, "pertains to people I believe should have been limbo cases and given further consideration in their trial."
no subject
Josh holds up a finger, standing.
"Let me — I'll go digest that while I get your tea. I'll be right back. You can... stay right there."
He needs to get up and get out of here and go stand in the hallway and breathe for a few seconds, because this is too much. Who did this? Who dropped her in his path again? Who changed her?
Out in the hall, Josh presses a hand to his forehead, gaze unfocused and glassy.
What he can't decide is whether he feels anger or relief or regret or longing, or if it's a mix of them all that's churning its way through his chest like a summer storm. What went differently? What did she do differently, to wind up like this?
And what the fuck is he supposed to do with those memories?
He returns in a few minutes, carrying a mug of tea, perfectly steeped. It's a skill he's picked up thanks to one of the interns, who caught him Doing It Wrong one day and set him on the right path after. By yelling. He sets it down on the desk in front of Bennett, then drops back into his chair.
"That pile of paperwork over there," he says, gesturing at a stack of files on the bookshelf to Bennett's left, like he wasn't just in the middle of an existential crisis, "pertains to people I believe should have been limbo cases and given further consideration in their trial."
It's a large pile.