The Principal's Office

[tailor_made]

The door to the principal’s office is open at all hours, although you will only find Hester at the receptionist’s desk from 8:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. This is primarily where you can have private conversations with her. Though there’s an actual office in the back, it is always closed and locked.

Comments

[tailor_made]

[In her chair, still dressed in her little black and green dress from the trial with a distant look on her face, Hester just watches him for a long minute before nodding slowly.]

...You're not what I expected, Mr. Barker. ["The Demon Barber of Fleet Street", befriending historical composers and being kind to ex-cheerleaders.]

[barberic]

[He flinches at the name, but doesn't offer an alternative. Just keeps his head low.]

He made me into a monster. Fifteen years ago- [His voice cracks, and his hands tighten in his hair.] Five weeks ago, I was...

I thought I was a good man.

[Good men are not ones that never make mistakes, they're ones that don't ignore them.

He takes his left hand from his hair and clenches it tight into a fist. The bandage wrapped around it is seeping blood.]

Why couldn't you just let me die?

[tailor_made]

[Hester doesn't respond right away. Instead she wordlessly pulls open the top drawer of her desk and pulls out a small first aid kit. She sets it on the corner of her desk before holding out her own hand to him.]

Can I see your hand? [She swallows a little, looking at him intently like she's trying very hard to maintain focus and not let the threat of her mind wandering more than it already is take hold.] ...Please? Then we can talk.

[barberic]

[He kind of expects an answer to be a long time coming. But when she doesn't answer his question at all, he looks up at her, finally.

His blue eyes are bloodshot and wet from tears, and the expression he gives her is...shocked. That anyone could know what he's done, and still be gentle to him, still look at him, even.

Wordlessly, meekly, he stands from the chair and goes to her desk, and puts his left hand in hers.

Up close, the bandage that Farrah applied in the trial is twisted, crusted together with dried blood, and the cloth and the undamaged parts of his hand are dirty from his rotten work in the garden, earth beneath his fingernails and green grass stains on the bandage.

The cut beneath peeks out, raw and hot and open. Technically, it probably needs stitches.]

...Why are you helping me?

[tailor_made]

[Hester flinches when she sees the wound, a memory of blood and glass still fresh in her mind, but she powers through it. She unwraps the bandage, a frown creeping across her mouth as she looks the wound over, before she opens the kit and pulls out some cotton pads and a small bottle of antiseptic. It's not ideal but she's sure she still has a needle and some embroidery thread from her previous craft project.]

...Because it's why I'm here. To help. To keep you all comfortable. [She douses the pad of cotton in the antiseptic.] And to keep you from having to deal with an infected cut- this is probably going to hurt, just a warning. [She dabs at the area around the cut to clean away the blood and dirt.]

[barberic]

[He hisses and flinches, as the antiseptic runs into the cut, but doesn't pull his hand away completely, just watching her.

How can she stand to touch him, knowing what he's done? She knew before he did. Yet she gave him a photo of his daughter.]

...You weren't hurt badly, were you?

[tailor_made]

[She's being gentle as she can be, which is not as much as she wants to be. She wipes away the blood and the dirt and a grass stains, throwing away the cotton pad when it's dirty enough before repeating the process with a new one.]

A little but the Wizard fixed it. It...didn't even hurt, it was so quick. [She goes still a moment, draws in a slow breath before finishing her clean-up and reaching into her second drawer to pull out a needle and some golden yellow embroidery thread to dip in the antiseptic.] I'm okay now, it really wasn't that bad.

[barberic]

[He doesn't flinch with the second time. The wound is already raw and burning, by now more fire won't make it any hotter.]

...That's good. I know Maya was quite worried about you. We all were.

[His voice is still soft and low, not dull but hollow, meant for just the space between them as she tends to his hand.

When he sees the needle, a flicker of emotion (displeasure? sadness?) crosses his face.]

Are stitches really necessary?

[tailor_made]

I appreciate the concern. [Two spots of color creep into Hester's cheeks when Maya is brought up but Hester keeps a straight face while she finishes sterilizing.] Really. It was more the surprise than anything.

[She raises an eyebrow.]

Are stitches necessary to keep you from getting more stuff in it, getting it infected and possibly having to amputate your hand? Possibly.

[barberic]

[He looks up from their hands just in time to meet her raised eyebrow, and then quickly looks back down.]

...Fair enough.