Adieu

Acts of Service (Dezmond)

With her eyes fluttering open, Dezmond would halt his breath, afraid that a single noise may alert her yet again to his presence. Yet in the next moment she was upright, and looking straight at him. Not at a stain on the chair, or anything on the wall behind him, but he himself. Swallowing hard, almost as if he were on the edge of his seat, she'd see his lower lip sucked in only to be lightly chewed between his teeth.

"So you are real," Only after she spoke to him would he exhale loudly, his whole body which had once maintained a perfect posture soon after slouched back heavily in the chair only to groan out an exasperated noise of annoyance.

It was just as he feared.

Unable to really respond to her, taking the gesture of her hand as a signal to wait, the Angel would find his thoughts constantly racing with compromises that may be offered to elude her to his existence. Yet, none would work. The only answer was make her think she were insane, as if the cancer had ruined her mind and left her with an imaginary friend. While that could certainly be an answer, it was no better than just telling her the truth. Something that he found himself slowly preparing to do ever since last night.

With Michayla now leaving to shower, a slight smile would take place over his small frown. "Make yourself comfortable-" A thing he's been doing long before she saw him, in fact she would likely be frightened by how comfortable he's been around her, and what parts of her life he'd been present for. Giving a final sigh, Dezmond figure that since the gig was up he may as well be a little productive. No longer a spectator, he was actually taking up space in her day to day at least until he could figure out why she could see him. It was because of this that by the time she'd exited he'd already be in the common area.

While she was busy, he'd set a kettle of water aside and started steeping some tea; Knowing well where everything in her home was already he'd even gone as far as to start preparing a small breakfast that even she may be able to stomach. It made sense that if she could see him, he may as well act as though he were here. "Let's see..." Dezmond began to muse aloud while he went over what she had in stock, taking into consideration her restrictions from the medication she was on. "Right, she was too sick to go to the market on Wednesday, so-" Vanishing suddenly, only a few moments later he'd return with a handful of fresh picked strawberries which he'd put in a strainer to start cleaning. A process he'd repeat a few more times as he went about making breakfast.

By the time Michayla actually came out and asked him if he'd like a cup of tea, there would already be tea on the table, as well as a bowl of oatmeal. Not the kind cooked in water, but simmered in whole milk with fresh fruit stirred in; garnished with brown sugar and a single sliver of butter that created a nice golden brown film over its still cooling surface. Just like how her dad used to make, as Dezmond learned to do so from somewhere after all.

"I know you haven't much an appetite as of late, but I figured this would at least be less miserable on the way up in the case it comes back." The quiet but still charming voice sounded from the kitchen, as Dezmond was now drying his hands after just finishing with cleaning up after the single meal he'd created for her. Walking from the kitchen towards the table to either join her or sit down first, he knew well they had quite the conversation coming up.