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[The back of his mind is telling him to get back up and keep this exchange brief. This is a matter he can easily handle in the morning with both medical and science teams. But there’s a calmness he feels when Newton directs him to have a seat. Hermann settles himself on top of the bed, resting his hands neatly on top of his lap with his cane settled by the foot of the bed.

He instantly recognizes the stomach medication when Newton drops it onto his hand.]

Besides the nightmares? I think I have grown accustomed to having a late start in the day.

[“Late” being waking at 6:30 AM as opposed to his typical 4:00 AM wake up time.

He takes both the tablets and water in one go.]

—Topple that with you and a good number of this crew spotting me as some ill-behaved schoolboy and I’m long overdue for a therapy session.

Hey, nothing wrong with having a later start in the day. Some of the best science happens in the dead of night anyway, so...!

[As you can see, Hermann, your issues are ones Newton commonly embraces, for better or worse; you've seen his eating habits, you know his sleeping schedule, it's a nightmare. But after a moment, he sits down with him, nudges him.]

Therapy, huh? What, you mean like a shrink? Did that kinda thing actually work for you before?

[Newt's never bothered. Maybe he should've.]

Grief consoling. [His brows raise a tick as he tilts his head.] A terrible incident struck the south side of Thailand in Surat Thani. I was accompanying my father to present his schematics for the Coastal Wall and found myself caught within ground zero’s perimeter.

[He swallows.]

Of course, he frowned at the idea of me “incoherently babbling” for an hour. But, nevertheless, I visited her several times and … It was helpful trying to parse through everything that had occurred that day.

[Newt's smile slips as Hermann speaks. Something he wasn't as privy to, then — not something he dug into during their short, intense drift, anyway — but it also strikes a chord he hadn't expected it to. Because he knew how that felt, hadn't he? Not until very recently, but the memory of being in the dark underbelly of Hong Kong with aching knees as Otachi dug for him in that bunker... the taste of cement dust, the glow of acidic spit, and the kaiju's vision in his own, leaving his doubled-

He shakes his head, unsettled, but laughs weakly.]

Your dad needs some therapy. Or maybe a professional stick remover for his ass.

[He wrings his hands together self-soothingly.]

Maybe I'll, uh. Try it sometime. I mean, if it worked for you, maybe it'll work for me. Besides, Sam kept prodding me about that kinda thing, and I have too many PhDs to say it's a load of crap, so...

[Sam. Still unconscious, still in some kind of dream stasis. He really, really hopes he's gonna wake up soon.]

Or, like... therapy for these missions we're on, too. That'd be good for everyone.

Mm…

[He dryly chuckles under his breath.]

Given the interesting profiles with the remaining crew members, I’d speculate needing an entire team to tackle such an affair.

[Hermann’s time with a therapist was short-lived, but he distinctly recalls not feeling pressured to unload the stones that hid beneath the surface. A process, one might say. Lines of code that chipped away at what truly is the matter.

That all didn’t matter anymore. Those stones have long been buried under soot and debris.

He pushes himself off the bed. It was bad enough that he had to inconvenience Newton with yet another episode from the ghost drift.]

Either way, do as you like. I’m not your beacon for conscious decision-making. [A beat.] And thank you again for the medicine. Hopefully, I should be able to get some modicum of shut-eye.

[Newt reaches out to tug on Hermann's coat.]

Hey, wait! You sure you're good?

I mean, if you're good, then that's cool. But you could lay down and kick back, watch something until you're sure everything's alright. [A pause, and then he wags a hand.] Just to make sure you're not gonna leave here and keel over. I kinda have an obligation to make sure my best bud isn't getting any worse after!

Yes, I know. Thank you, but —

[When he turns around to face Newton, the expression on Hermann’s face doesn’t carry the same uptight sternness he carries around constantly. The edges around his eyes look softer, making those aged lines look less pronounced. His pursed thin lips furl into a frown.]

I shouldn’t be doing this. You should not have to be my caretaker. You’re my friend, for God's sake. I can’t keep coming to you like this every time I come down with the case of the sniffles.

[Newt wrinkles his nose at that.]

It's not about being a caretaker. It's about being a good friend! I know it's not exactly a norm people learn in the Gottlieb household, but friends are always around when you need 'em. Ergo, I'm here, I'm ready to hang out, and it's not a big deal or any kinda burden.

[He holds up his arms, shrugging.]

You'd do the same for me! We look out for each other.

[He lets out a mildly defeated sigh.]

Alright, fine.

[It was one of those things where there was little room for argument. Hermann doesn’t exactly have the luxury of knocking on anyone else’s door and explain how much of a wreck he has become, both physically and mentally.

If there is anyone in this universe he’d prefer to present his more vulnerable qualities, it would be Newton.]

If you insist then, I would greatly appreciate the company.

Edited 2022-03-04 05:48 (UTC)

Alright, good!

[He pats the bed come-hitheringly.]

Come relax, prop up a pillow or whatever! Lemme get the player. [He's up like a jackrabbit, moving to the other side of the relatively small room.] You wanna watch Jaws? I found Jaws the other way; we can both bitch about the inaccuracies of how they portray sharks. It'll be nice.

And whenever your stomach's good, I got some emergency snacks leftover.

[It takes Hermann a second, but he sits back down at the edge of Newton’s bed, albeit rather stiffly. The thought of him crawling on his friend’s mattress makes him feel rather immature.

He looks at the pillows on the other side of the bed with his head continuing to throb.

'...Sod it'. He tells himself and crawls into a comfortable nook without putting too much pressure on his left leg.]

Whichever title you’d prefer. I’m in no position to make any coherent decisions at this hour.

[It's fine, it's cool. Newt bunches up a blanket and adjusts it under Hermann's leg for him, because he just knows, and it just kinda happens without him thinking twice about it. Once he does that particularly autopiloted task, he flops back down with the portable player sitting on his chest.

The glow casts across Newt and Hermann's weary expressions as the power comes on.]

'This hour', he says, like there's a sun or moon to guilt trip us... [He's just poking fun, really. The title screen of Jaws comes on, and he plays it before he lets his head settle back against his pillow. He turns his head a little to peer at his friend from the corner of his eye, though he doesn't have to turn far.] How's that? Not too bright?

Mm…If you can lower it just a smidge, please.

[Hermann adjusts himself a little more before settling a few inches closer to Newt. His hands resting on top of his belly, much like a sea otter floating around on a sunny day.

He squints his eyes as he watches the title sequence.]

Is this one of those sensationalised documentaries?

[He lowers the brightness a smidge.

Ah, nothing like far from factual inaccuracies about a particular species of creature for the sake of a horror movie. They can watch Cujo next! So that Newt can complain about the completely off-base writing of an animal experiencing rabies turning into an actual 80's slasher killer.

But anyway.]

Documentary? No way, man, this was a Steven Spielberg blockbuster.

You never saw Jaws, or what? It's pretty bad, but it's pretty good.

[Newtonian logic at work here.]

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