[He's tired, yes, but he manages a sheepish smile back at her. He's not doing well at all. It goes without saying, so he doesn't say it.]
It isn't the first time I've been dismissed by another doctor.
[In London, as Dr. Wilson's only Japanese mentee, he'd endured six years of sideways glances in the halls of St. Synner's-- until, and even after, he had proved himself a capable doctor and pathologist. He's used to it. Outside of Japan, he even expects it.
His smile fades, and his brows knit together.]
Dr. McCoy, however... [With a sigh, Yujin runs a hand back through his hair.] He has always treated me with respect. The last mission was trying for us all, but not so trying as to change the man's nature.
[ marta's hands remain folded over themselves on the table, just a few inches away from where yujin's still steady ones begin work on that bottle. there are two glasses she'd already set aside for the both of them, but her eyes remain on the tired lines of the older man's face as he avoids her own.
there is a quiet note to the tone of yujin's voice as he casually (habitually, reflexively) dismisses his own feelings to shift the focus onto another's. it's a deflection tactic marta knows all too well... just as much as she recognizes the wry confession of his callous treatment.
for a second she says nothing, letting her silence fill in the space where two very different but very similar people meet in quiet commiseration.
then she shifts in her seat, reaching over to gently nudge the two glasses closer towards him. ]
He's not himself, no. It wouldn't be the first time something dealing with the orbs changes somebody. We'll keep an eye on him.
[ but mccoy isn't really why she's here, and she wants yujin to know that. her next words come haltingly, trying not to cross the fine line between reassurance and condescension. ]
It's... never a mistake to care for someone, professor. You were doing the right thing.
[There's no discomfort in the moment of quiet between them. In Marta's face, her bearing, the sound of elsewhere in her voice, Yujin recognizes himself-- the tenuous balancing act of holding your head up high, and yet always hesitating to fill up more space than is necessary.
He could say more to her, but he doubts he could find those words and articulate them as well as he'd like. Even without them, the understanding in her eyes is enough.
At last, Yujin exhales a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.]
That is part of it all, isn't it? [He chuckles, humorlessly, taking and setting both glasses down in front of him.] Offering that care whether or not it is accepted with gratitude. [The deep scent of whiskey, dark and sweet, hits the air as he pours for them both.] Or... accepted, period.
[He pushes Marta's glass back towards her.]
Not that that makes me feel better. But it's a nice thought.
[ there's a sympathetic twist to the corner of marta's mouth — not quite a smile, but warm enough despite it. ]
He'll probably feel worse once he gets his head out of his ass, [ come her next words unbidden, the frankness of her tone effectively shattering the delicate air of tension around them, but for the better.
she takes her glass and gently clinks it against his. ]
[That's enough to get a small, sardonic smile out of him. Yujin chuckles quietly as their glasses clink together, then brings his whiskey up to his lips.]
Kanpai.
[It's not too bad for whiskey from the past, he thinks, the liquor rolling on his tongue. Even if it were, the alcohol-- and the company that comes with it-- are far more important. Tired as he still is, and looks, a weight is almost visibly lifted off his shoulders.]
You know, Miss Cabrera, we really should do this more often.
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cw racism
[He's tired, yes, but he manages a sheepish smile back at her. He's not doing well at all. It goes without saying, so he doesn't say it.]
It isn't the first time I've been dismissed by another doctor.
[In London, as Dr. Wilson's only Japanese mentee, he'd endured six years of sideways glances in the halls of St. Synner's-- until, and even after, he had proved himself a capable doctor and pathologist. He's used to it. Outside of Japan, he even expects it.
His smile fades, and his brows knit together.]
Dr. McCoy, however... [With a sigh, Yujin runs a hand back through his hair.] He has always treated me with respect. The last mission was trying for us all, but not so trying as to change the man's nature.
[Yeah... He's just gonna uncap that whiskey now.]
Something is wrong.
cw racism
there is a quiet note to the tone of yujin's voice as he casually (habitually, reflexively) dismisses his own feelings to shift the focus onto another's. it's a deflection tactic marta knows all too well... just as much as she recognizes the wry confession of his callous treatment.
for a second she says nothing, letting her silence fill in the space where two very different but very similar people meet in quiet commiseration.
then she shifts in her seat, reaching over to gently nudge the two glasses closer towards him. ]
He's not himself, no. It wouldn't be the first time something dealing with the orbs changes somebody. We'll keep an eye on him.
[ but mccoy isn't really why she's here, and she wants yujin to know that. her next words come haltingly, trying not to cross the fine line between reassurance and condescension. ]
It's... never a mistake to care for someone, professor. You were doing the right thing.
maybe this is the last cw racism,,,
He could say more to her, but he doubts he could find those words and articulate them as well as he'd like. Even without them, the understanding in her eyes is enough.
At last, Yujin exhales a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.]
That is part of it all, isn't it? [He chuckles, humorlessly, taking and setting both glasses down in front of him.] Offering that care whether or not it is accepted with gratitude. [The deep scent of whiskey, dark and sweet, hits the air as he pours for them both.] Or... accepted, period.
[He pushes Marta's glass back towards her.]
Not that that makes me feel better. But it's a nice thought.
weeps
He'll probably feel worse once he gets his head out of his ass, [ come her next words unbidden, the frankness of her tone effectively shattering the delicate air of tension around them, but for the better.
she takes her glass and gently clinks it against his. ]
Maybe that'll make you feel better.
no subject
[That's enough to get a small, sardonic smile out of him. Yujin chuckles quietly as their glasses clink together, then brings his whiskey up to his lips.]
Kanpai.
[It's not too bad for whiskey from the past, he thinks, the liquor rolling on his tongue. Even if it were, the alcohol-- and the company that comes with it-- are far more important. Tired as he still is, and looks, a weight is almost visibly lifted off his shoulders.]
You know, Miss Cabrera, we really should do this more often.