Welcome to the World of Tomorrow!!! [closed]

[etherthief]

Iman is in a perilously good mood after the last collective dream - apart from very nearly embarrassing the shit out of herself in front of the TARDIS, a situation which she's fairly hopeful righted itself, all her interactions were lovely and stress-free. She remembers meeting Greta especially, since Greta is someone she can track down, and more than that, she essentially promised to. Work moves at a reasonable pace and she manages to enjoy it - she and Rush are back to an acceptable state of banter, and Julian continues to be friendly and fine - and it's payday. Maybe she can take Greta out somewhere.

It's quick work getting the roster of registrants living at the Base, and sure enough there's a Greta Baker - Baker, really? Did she not have a last name, did they just assign her that? - up several floors in the living area. One elevator ride and several fiddling adjustments to her hijab later, she's standing outside Greta's door. She gives a quick series of knocks and then folds her hands behind her back. She's a little nervous, she thinks. Probably because they were sort of all up in each other's business last night, and this is someone she seriously doubts has any idea of bisexuality or indeed, anything outside the medieval heteronorm, but that's half the fun, surely.

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[andhiswife]

Greta hums, both in appreciation of the map's usefulness and to demonstrate that she is awake and paying attention and not at all inclined to doze off on Iman's shoulder. "I'm fine," she says. "Much better now than I was an hour ago."

And not tired in the least. Never mind how good it feels to have Iman stroking her back - something her own mother used to do when she was under the weather, years and years ago. Greta casts about for something to hold her attention, then says, "I've never seen the trains, though." Heard of them, briefly, but never been on one. Truth be told, what little she'd heard had sounded rather terrifying. "What's that like?"

[etherthief]

"Not that exciting, once you get used to traveling so fast," says Iman lightly. "The ones underground here are all pretty grimy and loud and crowded. Everything smells terrible. They're incredibly un-glamorous. But that's sort of in the spirit of New York. And they are very convenient. I'll take you on one, if you want - you shouldn't go alone your first time, it can be overwhelming. For one thing the maps down there are way different. They don't correspond to the streets."

She can sense Greta getting tired, and tilts her head down. "You sure you don't want to rest some more?"

[andhiswife]

It doesn't sound very nice - well, the trains don't sound very nice, but the cadence of Iman's voice has grown familiar enough to be soothing. Greta's eyes drift shut and her mind wanders, idly taking in bits and pieces of Iman's explanation and letting them slip away, like flour through her fingers. I'll take you, she says. Shouldn't go alone.

She is not alone. That's nice. And good.

Is Iman asking her a question? She might be. It's too distant for Greta to tell, and it doesn't seem terribly important. Surely there's nothing she needs to do but stay just as she is, warm and comfortable.

[etherthief]

Aaaand that answers that. Iman smiles, a little bemused, and just sits still for a moment, not sure what to do. Once she's sure Greta is good and out, she delicately extricates herself, lowering the other woman carefully onto the pillow and tucking her in. She takes out her own phone and flicks on the rain sounds app, leaving it on the chair, and takes the soup bowl to the kitchen.

She does what few dishes there are to do and inspects Greta's cabinets and fridge to see what kind of things she might need, and starts making a list. Might as well, right? Poor thing will need all the help she can get.

Once she's run out of menial tasks to do, she leans against the wall and watches Greta for a moment, smiling fondly. She's not entirely sure how long she does this - eventually she realizes that she is literally watching someone sleep and turns away, looking out the window instead. She's not sure if she should just leave or stick around - evening is approach, and Greta could well just sleep through the night. She supposes if it starts getting dark she could just leave a note.

For now she recovers her phone and settles down on the little sofa for some light reading. She's started following a lot of science journals and blogs, still trying to get a feel for the weirdly removed way things are done in this universe.

She does not reflect at all that this situation is weirdly domestic, or that that's not really something she does. It's just an unusual circumstance, that's all. It's not a problem. She's just being helpful. Reading the same paragraph over and over again.

She sighs and sets the phone down for a moment, looking at the softly snoring lady. The sweaty, red-nosed, medieval, pre-queer-culture married lady.

God dammit.