shipmaster | (no subject)

How could they be with both of us convalescing?

[That gets answered by a straight out grumble.]

Hmph. They could find a better to do that than be underfoot.

[ Miles snorts at that. Not unsympathetic, oh no ... ]

Then get better quicker, and spite the bastards for keeping you in bed.

[Possibly because they are AMAZING patients the same way.]

You sound like your mother.

Did she say the same thing? Then maybe we have a point, you know.

[This is a decidedly disgruntled sound. One of his square hands waves through the air, dismissing the sentiment entirely.]

... I'll trade you a day's rest for two of yours.

....

You hardly fight fair.

[By which he means, yes.]

[ Miles smiles genuinely at that. For the first time since he came in the room. ]

If I fought fair, I wouldn't be here right now.

[He snorts. The smile was in his eyes, if not his expression.]

That's the truth.

...

Go on, ahead. But I'm holding you to that.

The same to you.

[ If he doesn't decide to escape after all. Miles slowly gets up, then, and turns to head for the door. ]

[The turned back did give him enough of a guard to settle back. Damn too-small heart... it was clearly the reason why the sight of Miles walking out the door made him so tired.]

[ Clearly. Miles' back recedes into the hallway, and then disappears entirely. Next - and last - is the stables.

He heads out into the fresh air after a moment's pause, soaking in a much-needed burst of warmth. It hadn't gone as bad as he'd thought, but he still feels terribly strung out all the same. Later he's going to have a headache, he's sure of it ... A flick of his wristcomm brings up Bel's line. ]

I'm all done. Meet me at the stables when you're ready.

[Even with the harsh winter chill, the stables kept their own warmth, between the large beasts inside, and the insulating hay. The sweet smell of hay mixed with the strong aroma of horse. Around Miles, a few barn cats watched from their loft and rafter perches.

Bel isn't long after.]

How did it go?

[ That smell more than anything makes Miles relax. He's leaning against a stall when Bel enters, his eyes half closed. ]

Better than I thought.

... You look better, actually.

Yeah? I hope so. You might have been right about places, at least.

[ And who had Aral recommended? Fat Ninny? He slowly heads down in that direction. ]

[The heavy roan gelding had only gotten heavier with age and arthritis. He stomps forward eagerly at the sight of Miles, lipping at his jacket hopefully for the sugar cube or rare, delightful apple treat.]

Good lord, that thing is huge...

[ Miles has neither, alas, but he abruptly wishes he did. He ... he remembers this horse. He'd spent so many wonderful hours taking him out, going into the countryside, nearly losing him... The feeling goes through him like electric shock. ]

I wouldn't have anything less. A pony would be too small.

[ He reaches up to gently caress the horse's nose. ]

[Ninny snorts and presses up against the stall door to get closer. The horse ducks his head to nudge Miles gently.]

Of course. No issues behind that at all. [The tone is teasing, but fond. They are still not going too close to the massive beast.]

[ Good. Good. Miles leans his head against Fat Ninny for a moment, just taking in the smell of the old horse. ]

Shh. Help me saddle him up. Or - or get Roic to. I don't know if I remember how.

[ But he's giddy anyway, because feels closer to it than he has in a while. ]

[Bel looks blankly at the tack on the walls, and the saddles, blankets, leads and oils stored on the far wall and back to Miles.

Not the first damn clue here... but Bel DID know that look on Miles' face. It's as close as pure kinetic force can be expressed on a human's features.]

Be right back.

[Roic, waiting dutifully just inside the barn doors had been oh so not quite listening in anyway. The armsman nods to the two of them, fetching down the lead to bring Ninny out to where he could be saddled properly.]

[ Miles, meanwhile, fetches what he does remember. It's more than he was expecting. And with Roic's deadpan prompting, he manages to get Fat Ninny prepared. He carefully settles himself atop the horse's back and grins down at Bel. ]

Join me?

[They warily eye the creature. Placidly, Fat Ninny stares back.]

Pass!

Your loss. Come on, Ninny.

[ He nudges the horse into a nice sedate walk. Which is swiftly going to turn into as tearing a canter as the old horse can manage. ]