#jesse threads.

“hey, clarabelle,” jesse drawls as he limps into the med bay and settles himself heavy against the wall. he’s holding his whole body weight up against the doorframe with his robotic hand, near driving divots into the metal of the frame with how tight his fist is clenched. his whole body is aching something awful. “ange around? found myself up shit creek earlier, and let’s just say i couldn’t fashion myself a paddle in time. got a little roughed up,” he smiles weakly at her, “ain’t as spry and sprightly as i used to be. you mind lookin’ at this sorry mug for a while, if i sit and wait for the doc?”

“ange,” jesse hobbles into the med bay. he looks haggard, a hangdog expression settled into the lines of his windburned face. he cradles his left arm against his chest as he drops heavily onto the crinkling paper of the bed, his hat removed with his free hand to sit beside him. “got myself into a bit of a pickle.” he gestures to his now mangled bionic arm and sighs, “shouldn’t be hard to fix, i reckon. whatta’y think?”

plot: secret relationship / cheating / best friends older sister / older sister’s best friend.

“all right, this is just about every pillow in the damn watchpoint that ain’t currently in use,” jesse dumps the pile onto the floor with a satisfied grin, “now, i’ve never made a blanket fort before, so you might have to give me a few pointers. where do we start?” he can never say no to clarabelle, especially not when she’s been upset and he’s trying to do all he can to make her feel better. so if that means turning his room into a blanket fort? so be it. “i reckon we could hang a blanket off the top bunk, to get it started. what do you think?”