Gage looks up quickly at Sapphire. Yawning, he feigns having been asleep. He had no other legit reason for not rising when she'd come to the door. "Hi."
Managing to sit up on his mattress, Gage doesn't return Sapphire's light affection but goes straight into responding to her questions. "It went okay. Your brother knows what he's doing when it comes to cars all right."
Looking down, he picks at a loose thread around the hole in his jeans where his bare knee was visible. "I think maybe... our schedules aren't gonna work out too well though so I might try to find someone else to keep going with me until I get my license."
Gage rips loose the thread, snapping it from his jeans. He tries to move on quickly to another subject. "Pizza sounds good. I'm... I'm kinda tired though... so.... I don't know about.... a movie." All the while, his eyes are down, unwilling to look up at Sapphire.
Scott squints at his computer monitor, trying to solve the problem. Reese had called him back from Texas a day earlier than he'd wanted, he was having trouble with the files needed - along with a network problem, his mother was bugging him about Christmas dinner and who all was gonna be there and what to bring, he wasn't looking forward to the family get-together, it was late, he had a headache and he just wanted to go home. But if he just went home, Reese wouldn't get what he wanted, and he'd be in the doghouse.
An error message pops up for the sixth time. Giving an uncharacteristic growl of frustration, Scott slams his keyboard tray shut and just glares at the screen. Rubbing his throbbing forehead, he tries to block out the images that were flying through his head more rapidly lately. He'd thought he'd be rid of them once his system calmed down and he settled back into life after the Agency. But the last few weeks, it had just been getting worse. He'd always disliked the Agency. But lately it had turned into a pure hatred like nothing else. Every time he saw someone connected with the Agency, that anger flared. Whether it was Alec, Phinox, Gage or Carson, it didn't matter. It was becoming a nightmare all over again.
Turning to retrieve some papers, his arm knocks into his open can of Mountain Dew, sending it onto the floor with a thud and fizz. It was rare that he lost his temper, but this was the last straw. Standing up, he kicks the desk drawer shut and mutter's a word under his breath that he never dared. Grabbing some paper towels from the nearby cabinet, he kneels on the floor, trying to sop up the mess without disturbing Dalton any more than he already had.
Ryder gives Thirteen a gentle smile as he leans back against the washing machine and folds his arms. "It's okay. I don't much like planes myself. But it'll save a lot of time and hassle. Crashes happen... but not nearly as often as car wrecks and the Elite pilot is a good one."
He cocks his head, making sure Thirteen understood that being scared wasn't something to be ashamed of. "You and I will get to sit together," he adds. "You can hold my hand if you let me hold yours."
Jade smiles back at Dan, slight color coming to her cheeks. Leaning her head into his hand, she closes her eyes and sighs deeply, just enjoying this time. "I don't want to leave tomorrow," she admits. "I just want to stay here... with you."
Opening her eyes again, she sets aside some of the wrapping paper so she can move in closer to Dan again. Bringing her legs up on the couch, she curls them under and smooths out her skirt before leaning her head down to rest on Dan's chest with his arm around her. It was weird, thinking that she wouldn't see her brother this Christmas. And she had hoped to spend part of it with her father too, but now that wasn't even going to happen. She wondered if the McClain's would have a celebration of their own for people staying there.
Nuzzling in a little more, Jade wraps her arm around Dan's waist. "Can you be my pillow?" she teases. "You're awfully comfortable."
Axel sits up on the spare bed, one knee close to his chest to balance the book he was reading. His left hand held open the pages as he read the words, passing the time in the evening. Misty had been keeping an eye on him the last couple days, but until they knew for sure the diagnosis of his hand, he would remain here.
So far, his hand was still in pain, but it was a good thing that the feeling had lasted this long after the surgery. Still wrapped, his right hand rested on a pillow at his side as he made a conscious effort not to move it around too much. Misty had worked a little with him today to see if he could move any of his fingers, but he hadn't been able to. She'd assured him that it was still too early to tell, so he was trying to remain hopeful.
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