She is indeed; in fact, they very nearly meet in the stairwell, with her just about to step inside as he rounds the corner to come down. And the moment he's in sight, the moment he's within arm's reach, the feeling of malaise starts to lift - not all the way, but enough for her to put two and two together. Her eyes narrow.
There are some things Angeal's learned to come to expect from the Barge.
Enforced closeness is not part of it. He rather liked that the Admiral seemed to be content to let people do whatever they want whenever they want, and this did not qualify. As Shaw arrives, and relief from the worst of the flulike misery washes over him, he reaches .. possibly the same conclusion about the same time she does.
And puts it to the test by closing the rest of the gap, at least until comfortable conversation distance. There's still a personal bubble which must be minded, and he's keeping track of feeling versus proximity as he does it. "... Aren't we a bit early for the usual monthly shenanigans? That'd make it some passenger, wouldn't it?"
"Toss-up," she says, with a shrug. "I wouldn't rely on a schedule for floods, but, uh-- people causing trouble isn't a bad bet, either. How are you feeling? My head's still a little woozy."
Without consciously thinking about it, she takes a step forward, closing the already-short distance between them by another few feet.
One hand rises, makes a so-so gesture. "Bit like the seasonal flu's coming on, but I haven't gotten sick since I was a kid." And it's getting markedly better every step she takes, in fact, as if somehow Shaw herself is the tylenol to all his troubles this morning.
Maybe she is. A perk of being one of the ship's medics? Or something else? "It's getting better though. Are you running a temperature?" Angeal will immediately stop if there's a protest but it's almost automatic to reach just a little bit further to test her forehead the way his parents did to him countless times throughout his life. "I know where Vincent keeps all the fever reducers."
"No," she says, just as his hand connects with her forehead; barely half a second passes before she says, "Oh."
The sick feeling is gone - evaporated into thin air, just like that. Not even a trace of it remains; she feels completely normal.
"There's no way we can do this for a whole week," she says, even though she's absolutely positive that that is exactly what they're going to have to do.
No temperature, and instantly, no more feeling of creeping disorientation and unpleasantness. It's like contact alone just entirely erased--
Oh. A week. She catches onto it a little sooner than he does. Angeal's expression shifts slowly from surprise to consternation, as the implication of what's going on finally actually sinks in. "Think it'll last a week? Depends on what's causing it."
The ship, or someone on the ship - sometimes all it took was finding the right inmate and tossing them in Zero. "...We should.. probably find out exactly how bad this is."
"I'm thinking about the worst-case scenario," she says dryly. Which is true, but also--
"This feels like the Admiral's doing. Forcing wardens and inmates to stick close? That's an on-the-nose enforced bonding experience if I've ever heard one. Somebody's powers running amok would've, I dunno, forced us to slaughter each other or something."
With the slow caution of someone testing something they suspect is going to be unpleasant, Angeal backs up a couple of steps. Not enough to be crippling, but enough that the feeling of malaise returns.
And then a bit more shuffling to find out where, exactly, is tolerable without being in direct contact. "I'm not sure that's actually going to be effective, but aliens don't necessarily see things the way we do." The Admiral was, distinctly, alien.
Effective or not, Shaw's doing the same thing: shuffling backwards inch by inch, feeling out their limits here.
"I can handle a lot," she says, frowning down at her feet. "But, uh, I hate to say it - I think we should be crippling ourselves as little as possible here."
"I don't really intend to have you in touching range while I wipe my backside if I can help it," the SOLDIER says mildly; it doesn't take too long to determine what is and is not easily functional, and further isn't yet necessary. "I'd rather know now than find out later during some potential emergency."
Tolerable is still much closer than most people were comfortable with. A week would be... irritating, but not much more than that if they were careful about distances, based on his rough estimate. This was going to take planning around.
Shaw snorts, but doesn't disagree; just because she's had plenty of experience with co-ed communal bathrooms doesn't mean she's actively looking to repeat the experience.
"Okay." She angles her head towards the far end of the hallway that she'd come from. "Let's see how it holds up through walls and doors, then. My cabin's right down there."
Taking a shower was fine. Anything else was.. more personal somehow. "Alright. Even in my own cabin it didn't feel like I was going to pass out or anything, so it's unlikely to be a problem if we're locked on other sides of a door, just.. unpleasant maybe."
But it's best to find out. Since Shaw's one of the medical personnel on the ship, there are things he simply can't be there for if it comes up; he'd be in the way, and privacy is a thing for any medical profession. He's minding the distance between them when he heads for Shaw's quarters though, there's no need to test how miserable it is on the way there too.
Shaw's thoughts are, reluctantly, the same; as much as she'd like to feel this out more, they should focus on one thing at a time. So she walks along in silence, making sure to neither outpace him nor let him outpace her as they make their way to level 1. In theory, it's a balance that she should be used to, but the extremity of it trips her up. Walking so close that she keeps accidentally brushing her elbow with him is new. So is the undeniable relief she feels every time it happens.
With a defeated sigh, she reaches out and curls her fingers loosely around his forearm.
It helps. It feels like the encroaching signs of degradation, up until there's actual contact, sweeping it away like a fresh breeze.
Which means there's no protest at all when Shaw sighs and gives into what the Admiral is clearly after, though he does look momentarily bemused. It's been a long time since he allowed people to just casually touch him, for fear of what it might do. Hesitant allowances had been made for medical care, or sparring, but he had been stripped of his more malignant powers, so there really wasn't any harm now, was there? "How do you feel about handholding?" The twitch of a smile will SURELY be forgiven. "I don't think anyone will get the wrong idea, while this is going on. They'll have to too."
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"You gotta be kidding me."
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Enforced closeness is not part of it. He rather liked that the Admiral seemed to be content to let people do whatever they want whenever they want, and this did not qualify. As Shaw arrives, and relief from the worst of the flulike misery washes over him, he reaches .. possibly the same conclusion about the same time she does.
And puts it to the test by closing the rest of the gap, at least until comfortable conversation distance. There's still a personal bubble which must be minded, and he's keeping track of feeling versus proximity as he does it. "... Aren't we a bit early for the usual monthly shenanigans? That'd make it some passenger, wouldn't it?"
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Without consciously thinking about it, she takes a step forward, closing the already-short distance between them by another few feet.
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Maybe she is. A perk of being one of the ship's medics? Or something else? "It's getting better though. Are you running a temperature?" Angeal will immediately stop if there's a protest but it's almost automatic to reach just a little bit further to test her forehead the way his parents did to him countless times throughout his life. "I know where Vincent keeps all the fever reducers."
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The sick feeling is gone - evaporated into thin air, just like that. Not even a trace of it remains; she feels completely normal.
"There's no way we can do this for a whole week," she says, even though she's absolutely positive that that is exactly what they're going to have to do.
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Oh. A week. She catches onto it a little sooner than he does. Angeal's expression shifts slowly from surprise to consternation, as the implication of what's going on finally actually sinks in. "Think it'll last a week? Depends on what's causing it."
The ship, or someone on the ship - sometimes all it took was finding the right inmate and tossing them in Zero. "...We should.. probably find out exactly how bad this is."
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"This feels like the Admiral's doing. Forcing wardens and inmates to stick close? That's an on-the-nose enforced bonding experience if I've ever heard one. Somebody's powers running amok would've, I dunno, forced us to slaughter each other or something."
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And then a bit more shuffling to find out where, exactly, is tolerable without being in direct contact. "I'm not sure that's actually going to be effective, but aliens don't necessarily see things the way we do." The Admiral was, distinctly, alien.
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"I can handle a lot," she says, frowning down at her feet. "But, uh, I hate to say it - I think we should be crippling ourselves as little as possible here."
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Tolerable is still much closer than most people were comfortable with. A week would be... irritating, but not much more than that if they were careful about distances, based on his rough estimate. This was going to take planning around.
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"Okay." She angles her head towards the far end of the hallway that she'd come from. "Let's see how it holds up through walls and doors, then. My cabin's right down there."
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But it's best to find out. Since Shaw's one of the medical personnel on the ship, there are things he simply can't be there for if it comes up; he'd be in the way, and privacy is a thing for any medical profession. He's minding the distance between them when he heads for Shaw's quarters though, there's no need to test how miserable it is on the way there too.
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With a defeated sigh, she reaches out and curls her fingers loosely around his forearm.
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Which means there's no protest at all when Shaw sighs and gives into what the Admiral is clearly after, though he does look momentarily bemused. It's been a long time since he allowed people to just casually touch him, for fear of what it might do. Hesitant allowances had been made for medical care, or sparring, but he had been stripped of his more malignant powers, so there really wasn't any harm now, was there? "How do you feel about handholding?" The twitch of a smile will SURELY be forgiven. "I don't think anyone will get the wrong idea, while this is going on. They'll have to too."