[ (Read the file, haven't you? that's what he'd said and Dr. Akker had just shrugged with one of her shoulders, as if twelve dead men hadn't been laid out there, one after the other, page after page, like some morbid a la carte. I don't read files, Staff Sargarent, I read people. And what I read from you is, you're not finished yet.)
In the silence that follows, Akker's chair squeaks again and there's a faint whispering sound of ballpoint pen on paper. (He implies leave it to me and he will, but Akker hasn't gotten where she is and kept her position by not being ahead of the ball at all times. Eventually: ] Thanks.
[ A beat, then: ] So. What's the official tally? [ Circling back to an earlier question of how are you sleeping. ]
[ (You're not finished yet. And that had been his loyalty won, right then and there, because when you have nothing, a statement like that means everything.) ]
Not too little, not too large. [ Fine. Average. Not noncommittal, because he's never that way with her, and not a lie, because he's come out of the habit of telling them a long time ago. He hasn't told a lie since going into Iraq. There's no room for lies in that kind of war, and no room for lies in the way that he chooses to live, now. ]
Mm, [ she hums, thoughtful and equally not noncommittal. More scritching of her pen now, no more pointed or quick than when she'd scribbled down Taipei. Just because the call's not on record in any capacity doesn't mean she's stopped looking out for him (she's pretty certain that'll never happen, ever). ] Good. [ That's the doctor in her talking. A beat, then: ] I'm glad. [ And that's the friend.
A few more notes, reminders of calls she should make afterwards. Stalling, maybe, before she tells him: ] Next time you're settled for more than a few days, drop me a line. Dr. Connors has something you might be interested in. [ Chemistry. A delicate subject when it comes to Akkers and Iain's one of the few people to know why. ]
[ He knows, but he never brings it up on his own and he never tries to rub that knowledge in. Trust isn't the sort of thing he gives away easily and he knows her well enough by this point to know that it's not something she gives away much, either. (Maybe that's what friends means.)
Although, to be fair, he doesn't talk much in general. ]
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In the silence that follows, Akker's chair squeaks again and there's a faint whispering sound of ballpoint pen on paper. (He implies leave it to me and he will, but Akker hasn't gotten where she is and kept her position by not being ahead of the ball at all times. Eventually: ] Thanks.
[ A beat, then: ] So. What's the official tally? [ Circling back to an earlier question of how are you sleeping. ]
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Not too little, not too large. [ Fine. Average. Not noncommittal, because he's never that way with her, and not a lie, because he's come out of the habit of telling them a long time ago. He hasn't told a lie since going into Iraq. There's no room for lies in that kind of war, and no room for lies in the way that he chooses to live, now. ]
Usual.
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A few more notes, reminders of calls she should make afterwards. Stalling, maybe, before she tells him: ] Next time you're settled for more than a few days, drop me a line. Dr. Connors has something you might be interested in. [ Chemistry. A delicate subject when it comes to Akkers and Iain's one of the few people to know why. ]
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Although, to be fair, he doesn't talk much in general. ]
Connors. Got it.