one by one they lay the world at my feet,
one by one they drive me crazy.
one by one they drive me crazy.
"When you're a doctor you call it a scalpel." You correct with a twist of your lips. "And besides, I wasn't being a doctor when I was sat at my piano. You've found me at one of the few times I'm not in my scrubs. That'll teach me, I suppose." You add with a shrug and a slightly self-deprecating laugh.
Looking at the ground and kicking a pebble aside, you nod your head. "If it wasn't too badly injured. They..have a natural propensity to want to heal. So if it could, I knew it would. It's like you said—" Glancing up, you flash Finn a warm smile. "—they would make very good doctors or additions to the clinic."
Huffing a note of laughter at that, you roll your eyes and shake your head. "Then you'd be in every few days." What Finn says next makes you fall silent for a few steps. It isn't that you don't want to play with him, there are few things you'd enjoy more, it's the leaving your door open. Would he play in the hall? Would he lean against your doorframe, his guitar propped up on your knee?
"What is it?" You ask him softly, dark eyes kind and unthreatening beneath long lashes and even longer bangs. "It's me of all people. Why would your first instinct be to make music together at a distance?" You bite the inside of your cheek slightly as you offer him a sad smile. "I'm sure you know that isn't the best way of going about it."
Looking at the ground and kicking a pebble aside, you nod your head. "If it wasn't too badly injured. They..have a natural propensity to want to heal. So if it could, I knew it would. It's like you said—" Glancing up, you flash Finn a warm smile. "—they would make very good doctors or additions to the clinic."
Huffing a note of laughter at that, you roll your eyes and shake your head. "Then you'd be in every few days." What Finn says next makes you fall silent for a few steps. It isn't that you don't want to play with him, there are few things you'd enjoy more, it's the leaving your door open. Would he play in the hall? Would he lean against your doorframe, his guitar propped up on your knee?
"What is it?" You ask him softly, dark eyes kind and unthreatening beneath long lashes and even longer bangs. "It's me of all people. Why would your first instinct be to make music together at a distance?" You bite the inside of your cheek slightly as you offer him a sad smile. "I'm sure you know that isn't the best way of going about it."
October
