[Running an anxious hand through his hair. Replacements— might be an issue. He glances to his side, and back over his shoulder, towards the bedrooms...]
[Keep a cool head, Allen Walker! He's a gentleman, goshdarnit, and gentlemen don't...
actually, he hasn't a clue what gentlemen do in this sort of situation. This is a job for a mother to handle, he's sure, if a girl has the luxury, and Lady Morgana's - not. So what can he do? How terrible must this be for her? (He really, really doesn't want to consider it in any detail.)
Groaning, he presses the heel of his palm to his forehead as he departs, not entirely certain where he's going.
...And returns a few minutes later with a pair of drawstring trousers (his) and a... rag. He had not prepared for this occasion.
Grimacing as he valiantly struggles through shame and ingrained Victorian-ishness, he manages:]
Cat? Uhm, I've a few things, but - I don't own anything your size. If you wait here, I could throw your things in the wash? Or fetch something from your room... Or call someone? Whatever is best! I'm sorry...
[ she has no one to call. no mother, no sister, not even a girl with whom she's friendly. if he goes to her room, robb will kill him, and she will kill both of them. her clothes dry on the edge of the tub, but they could do with another wash.
opening the door, she holds out her wet clothes. ]
[ when she comes out, she lingers awkwardly in the living room. the pant legs had to be rolled up to stop herself stepping on them. she goes to sit on the couch then thinks better of it. she worries her lip. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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We'll wash those as well!
[Running an anxious hand through his hair. Replacements— might be an issue. He glances to his side, and back over his shoulder, towards the bedrooms...]
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actually, he hasn't a clue what gentlemen do in this sort of situation. This is a job for a mother to handle, he's sure, if a girl has the luxury, and Lady Morgana's - not. So what can he do? How terrible must this be for her? (He really, really doesn't want to consider it in any detail.)
Groaning, he presses the heel of his palm to his forehead as he departs, not entirely certain where he's going.
...And returns a few minutes later with a pair of drawstring trousers (his) and a... rag. He had not prepared for this occasion.
Grimacing as he valiantly struggles through shame and ingrained Victorian-ishness, he manages:]
Cat? Uhm, I've a few things, but - I don't own anything your size. If you wait here, I could throw your things in the wash? Or fetch something from your room... Or call someone? Whatever is best! I'm sorry...
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opening the door, she holds out her wet clothes. ]
What do you have?
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[And then hurries off to get these things in the washing machine.]
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It shouldn't take long. Um... make yourself comfortable. [ somehow. ]
Is there anything you need...?
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…Can I sit?
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His roommates wouldn't care about bloodstains, would they-?]
Go ahead.
[He's going to the kitchen to see if he has. cookies, or something, that'll improve this situation.]
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Allen? When will it stop?