where: ruth's apartment, #305

when: april, post ashton-imprisonment

she pours the wine cooler into one of her mismatched glasses, making use of a case that's been sitting unopened for the better part of a month which is now free game. before she hadn't drank because she'd thought herself too important, her skills too invaluable to even risk the thought of a hangover. but now, there was a second doctor/nurse team who could take over this shift as it were.

"are you sure you don't want one?" she's frayed at the edges, unable to remember the duties of inviting someone into her apartment besides warning them time and time again about the mess. but they're neighbors, and they have more to talk about than the state of her blankets on the couch. "it's blue hawaiian." she showcases the label with a small sweeping gesture, as though she's displaying the best bottle in the wexley, not something neon blue and smelling faintly of sunscreen.

"sorry, i don't have much else." she didn't elaborate on the point, the explanation stood self-evident. she allowed it to sit while she swallowed a sickly sweet mouthful of the drink, which was quickly followed by a grimace. "i'm not usually a host."

where: the atrium, near rosie's diner

when: mr. wexley's birthday party

"you're a hard man to track." she knew that he would be. ashton had taken weeks and months of continued conversation before they'd gotten near anything approaching a conversation, let alone the friendship they had now. maybe it was some code of silence around injuries, that they were all better suffering through without help of any kind. "i suppose the idea of physical therapy didn't interest you very much."

it's a mostly joking tone, and the serious note will dissolve away to something nicer when she finishes her drink. but sometimes tough love was needed; it was still love in the end. even if just by recommendation. through a friend who was going through a similar injury. "how was getting on the suit?"