[prompt, symptom]
Goren's surprised to see me sitting here. Hell, I'm sort of surprised to be sitting here. I'm not sure what he expected from me when I walked out of the ER exam area as he was heaving his guts out into the trash can I'd just handed him. It was easy enough for me to walk out, logistically anyway. A nurse was pushing in, and she pushed me out. How I felt about walking out is an entirely different story. Yet, I didn't find myself walking back in.
"Eames." He stops short and takes a side step. I stand, reminded at exactly how much larger he is than me. Kind of like his life, so much larger than mine. I have this way I step through things. I figure out how much I can take, and I take on exactly that much, maybe a bit more, leaving the margin of error just wide enough that I can handle it. I wonder if Goren has ever had the luxury of stepping through things. His life lands on him with a wallop. Sort of like I imagine his insight on the Job to be, like a kerthump to his brain.
"Ready?" I ask, like there was never any question I'd be standing there waiting for him.
"Yeah, um." He has a fistful of discharge papers. "They discharged me." He doesn't say anything about being read.
"Can you walk?" I ask, looking at him. A reasonable question given the fact that he was so drunk he apparently tripped and fell and split his head open. So he stands, feet planted kind of wide apart, 13 stitches later and not actually sober.
"Yes." And he has the nerve to sound pissy.
"Let's go then." I stare at him until he proves that he can walk. He's slow, but walking.
"I didn't mean for them to call you," he reminds me as he slides into his position in the passenger seat.
I don't look in his direction. He doesn't say anything more. I think about pointing out that maybe he should call me, maybe he should call me before he takes a header. Though I know he won't call me, and I know there'll be a next time. I'm not quite certain of my part in this, but I'm certain it's going to play.