Room 209, Wednesday night

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After last night, Aeryn hasn't really felt like being around people. Okay, maybe she'd needed a little breakdown. That wasn't the way she would have preferred to have done it. She'd rather forget it happened, but that won't be happening anytime soon.

There's something on the wall opposite her bed now, even if she does keep looking up at it while struggling through makeup work, wondering if she should be homesick or not.

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[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

John's got the sea monkeys under one arm and a box of cookies in the other. Of course, knocking on the door is now difficult so he bangs with his head.

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That didn't sound good, so Aeryn gets up from the bed to open the door for him. "Hi," she says, though curiosity might be winning out over social discomfort in terms of tone of voice.

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"I knocked with my head," he says and hands her the cookies so he can slip inside and place the sea monkeys on her desk. He turns around and leans against the desk casually. "You okay?"

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She nods once because it's true, and is not-so-secretly looking his forehead over for bumps.

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"I'm okay," he says lightly. "I've got a hard head. Eat some cookies. Cookies are good for everything."

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"What's the obsession with fattening food that's supposed to make you feel better?" she wonders

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"Sugar is good," John says honestly. "And like you could ever be fat."

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"I wasn't worried about that," Aeryn assures him. After all, she practically lives in the gym some weeks.

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"Hm." He smiles at her slightly. "Last night's been building for awhile, hasn't it?"

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"I don't want to talk about it," she admits.

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"Hm." He nods. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

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She shakes her head and answers, "No."

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"Okay," he sighs. "Okay. Want me to draw you a picture for your room?"

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That... was unexpected. "What?"

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"Picture," he says, miming drawing. "For your room. Something that will make you laugh everytime you see it."

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"Like Rory's drawing of me when she was three?" she asks, She might even be teasing a little. She's really not sure. Not that Rory's drawing, along with the polar bear ones, have made it out of her bag yet.

[whitedeathpod.livejournal.com]

"Something like that," John says, looking around for a pen. "You can request something and I'll draw it for you. Anything you want. Okay?"

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"Surprise me," she tells him.

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"Okay." John picks up one of the pens on her desk and starts doodling in an empty notebook. Finishing up, he hands the picture over to her. "Ta-da!"

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Aeryn doesn't even really get it, but she's covering her mouth and definitely not laughing really anyway.

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"See, she's a pirate," John points out. "That's her hook for a hand, her peg leg, her eye patch and her parrot named Bob."

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"Your arguments against insanity will really never work again," she says, shaking her head.

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"I'm just a little insane," he says, gesturing with his fingers the amount of his insanity. "Just a smidge. And only on days that end in 'y.'"

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Aeryn reaches out her hand to widen the distance between his two fingers.

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John looks at his fingers. "That's still not that insane. You can obviously deal with the insanity."

John then mocks grabbing a microphone and puts it in front of Aeryn. Not too close because he doesn't wanna make her close up. "Tell me, Aeryn Sun, after all this time, how are you able to deal with John Crichton's obvious mental instabilities?"