Writing meme

[brigdh]

Whooo, I am bored and unmotivated, so therefore: meme! Stolen from just_ann_now. Tell me a little about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you several sentences from that story.

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[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

(Hi! Thank you so much! It's really really great to encounter other people who are fans of these books.

Also, excellent prompt. This is set in the last part of Dead Water.)

Hannibal stirred, opening his eyes and turning his head slowly to study the room, its bare walls, his own blanket-covered form. He had been doing so for a while, but this was the first time that he seemed to actually register any of the sights, and Rose closed her book, waiting to see if he would speak. For a time he only continued to stare, his confusion marked by the crease in his forehead, but finally he sighed and lifted an unsteady hand to rub at his eyes.

"I feel terrible." His voice was husky and low enough to be nearly inaudible, though the words were formed well enough.

"I'm certain you do. You were poisoned." Rose went to pour some of the tisane Benjamin had left; a task for her hands that helped to keep her from speaking some of the anger she felt.

"Really? I thought…." Hannibal was silent for long enough that Rose suspected he had lost the thread of the conversation, but when he spoke again, it was with greater strength and spirit. "Well. At least I am absolved of the guilt, if not the hangover itself."

Rose sat on the edge of his bed, her hip brushing the side of his thigh. "This should help," she said, offering him the cup. Hannibal reached for it, but only succeeded in jostling it, spilling some of the hot liquid over his hand. He sucked in a sharp breath, jerking his hand away, and Rose winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not very good at nursing."

"That's fair. I'm not very good at being a patient." He managed a smile for her, though it only emphasized how weary he looked.

"Let me hold it for you." Rose rearranged herself on the bed until she could put an arm around Hannibal's shoulders, raising him slightly. He felt less chilled than he had been, and his face had lost its grim grey tinge, though his eyes were still heavy-lidded and bruised-looking. He had to pause often while drinking to catch his breath, but she found some reassurance in the warmth and pressure of his shoulder under her hand, and found herself sitting closer to him than was perhaps entirely necessary. She set aside the cup when he finished, but didn't rise from the bed.

Hannibal relaxed back against the pillows, clearly exhausted again already. "You needn't stay. I suspect I am unlikely to do much of interest."

"I know," Rose said, but he had been asleep for some time before she returned to her chair.