Greta slings his arm over her shoulders, ready (and hopefully able) to take on some of his weight if he needs her to. She's not sure if his admission is meant to double as an apology or not, but that seems like the most sensible way to take it. There's plenty for her to disapprove of here already; she doesn't need to add 'made a rubbish attempt to hide from me' to the list.
"It's all right," she says instead, helping him out of the tub and over to the doorway. She wavers there for a minute, weighing the benefits of 'closer to the kitchen' against 'farther from all the research materials,' then elects to steer him out towards the couch. It'll be easier to keep an eye on him out there. She doesn't like the thought of him re-immersing himself in Lee Harvey Oswald's exploits, but as far as research goes, the damage has been done. He probably won't be able to do much reading in his current state, anyway.
They lurch unsteadily out into the living room, Greta nudging bottles and books aside with her foot until she can deposit him onto the couch. He comes perilously close to taking her down with him, but she manages to catch herself with a little squawk. "There we are," she says a bit breathlessly, straightening. "Sit tight. I'm going to get you some water."
And then what? she wonders as she putters to the kitchen. Tidy up the incriminating library books? Somehow convince him he isn't to blame for any of this? Much as she wants to help him, she doesn't really know what she's doing. This is so much more complicated than a timed scavenger hunt.
no subject
"It's all right," she says instead, helping him out of the tub and over to the doorway. She wavers there for a minute, weighing the benefits of 'closer to the kitchen' against 'farther from all the research materials,' then elects to steer him out towards the couch. It'll be easier to keep an eye on him out there. She doesn't like the thought of him re-immersing himself in Lee Harvey Oswald's exploits, but as far as research goes, the damage has been done. He probably won't be able to do much reading in his current state, anyway.
They lurch unsteadily out into the living room, Greta nudging bottles and books aside with her foot until she can deposit him onto the couch. He comes perilously close to taking her down with him, but she manages to catch herself with a little squawk. "There we are," she says a bit breathlessly, straightening. "Sit tight. I'm going to get you some water."
And then what? she wonders as she putters to the kitchen. Tidy up the incriminating library books? Somehow convince him he isn't to blame for any of this? Much as she wants to help him, she doesn't really know what she's doing. This is so much more complicated than a timed scavenger hunt.