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I'm not sure. I think it might be too late to rename him. He'll just get confused.

[ Kate settles back against Johanna, curling in to lean her head into her chest again. The pressure of it against her forehead seems to dull the headache somehow, so she doesn't really care if Johanna thinks it's lame or weak or whatever. ]

What would you name him?

I wouldn't.

[Too dull to really be vicious or cutting. She stares at the wall, limp under the lean of Kate's forehead against her chest, the pressure of the dog down around her ankles.]

He's too dumb to be like a Killer, right.

Are you fucking kidding me right now. [ Kate is so far from amused, her tone flat but still edged with anger. ] If you want to start that argument again you can just get out.

[ But hopefully not because then she'd have to move. She really is mad, but she's also comfortable for the first time in days. She gives Johanna a moment to choose to get up and get out if she wants and then says: ]

I wanted him to be named Spike but he wasn't mine.

What?

[Genuine confusion--which, for Johanna, comes out sounding annoyed. It honestly takes her a moment to realize what Kate is angry about--or probably angry at least. Considering Kate hasn't tried to push her out of the bed, how mad can she be?

Irritated--but not irritated enough to leave--she huffs a laugh.]

Oh, get over it, that's not what I meant. I meant that's a great dog name. And Spike is way better. You should change it, he'll figure it out.

[ Great filters through the fuzz of pain and exhaustion and kneejerk anger and warms Kate's heart just a little bit. Way better. Part of her doesn't want to be appeased, knows she shouldn't be this easily. Real arguments deserve real responses, real consequences. But Johanna gives approval so rarely that even over something this unimportant Kate finds herself just a little proud. At least her smile can't be seen, out of sight with her head bowed. ]

Maybe I will. I have to see if he's worthy, first.

[Johanna snorts--but doesn't move, and doesn't offer any greater critique than that. It's possible that she's equally fuzzy in pain and exhaustion. It's also possible that she likes Kate's name selection that much.]

What's the test for that like? He's just a dog.

I don't know. I just have to see if he seems awesome enough, I guess.

[ Kate's shrug is a loose bump of her chest and shoulders against Johanna, already yawning before she finishes the words. Then she's still, breathing slowly enough she might be asleep. She nearly is, just enough to stop whatever bit of her brain usually prevents her from asking things like this: ]

Are we friends?

[Johanna isn't necessarily nearly asleep. But she's feeling the best she has in days, winding down enough that her own breath is slower and more even.

But at Kate's question, she draws back a little, squinting down at her. What.]

What?

Are you my friend?

[ Kate repeats the question and then muffles another yawn. She's been trying to sleep for so long, this respite between headaches and nosebleeds has her almost immediately dozy (and consequently a little disjointed). ]

Or are we just benefits, no friends with.

[She snorts, quietly--not loud enough to disturb herself, or even to really disturb Kate. It's much less vicious than she usually is, but in her defense, she's pretty damn tired, too.]

Is this normal for you? Does no one think this is weird in New York?

Shut up. You're so bad at this.

[ Kate would roll her eyes but it might hurt and Johanna can't see them anyway. She doesn't really sound mad, maybe exasperated but there's barely enough energy in it even for that. ]

[Unseen, her eyes narrow a little--but only a little.]

Seriously. Why do you even have to ask?

Because you're a huge bitch to me half the time.

[ Duh. ]

But then sometimes you come hug me randomly. It's weird.

Once. I hugged you once. Did you already forget, it like, just happened.

[She lets her eyes slip shut again, despite the tilt of argument in her voice.]

And I'm a huge bitch to everyone. Don't act like it's special. In fact, I think the only thing special about it is that you said I only do it half the time. That's a pretty good record.

[ It was twice but ok Johanna, Kate will let that one slide this time. She'll even concede that Johanna is less mean to her than to most people. ]

Yeah, but that's not the same as friends. Friends is being nice sometimes, not just less mean.

[ONE TIME don't correct her]

Yeah, well. In case you haven't guessed? I'm not good at friends.

[She tips her chin back and slits her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. It's a familiar sight to her now, which is sort of a strange thought. All of the ceilings look the same, but she's looked at this one pretty often.]

Does it really matter?

[ Generally she's had Kate distracting her from the dullness of the ceiling in far more interesting ways than tonight, a loose coil around Johanna, head propped close, but hands and mouth unused. ]

Have you ever tried to be good at it?

[yeah too bad thin membranes aren't conducive to sex]

When was I going to try that?

[But rather than be asked to launch into an explanation for what she means by that--though Kate knows enough about her to probably have a guess or two at least--Johanna goes on:]

Are you going to give me instructions?

[ not tonight she has a headache ]

Before?

[ Kate knows enough about her to not really expect it recently but also to have the impression that she had years before that where she probably still sucked at friendship. Oh well. Her persistence is waning. ]

I was hoping you didn't need them.

[everyone has a headache that's no excuse]

Give me a suggestion.

[ ugh why did you have to make it difficult

Kate thinks about it for a long moment or two and finally shrugs against her, words coming on an exhale, a little exasperated, a little considering giving up. ]

Just-- I don't know, just occasionally think about what I would do if our positions were reversed and do that instead.

Like you're always so sensible and rational.

[She tucks her chin against the top of Kate's head all the same, keeping her in close. The loose weight of her arm around her tightens, just a little.]

This is kind of fucked up. Don't pretend it isn't.

[ Kate's response is a grumble that concedes the point even as what she's grumbling is something like 'more than you'. But Johanna curling closer makes it hard to argue and she presses a yawn to her chest. ]

What is? This? [ super descriptive Kate good job ] Or us?

Us.

[She shrugs, sort of, a lift of her shoulders with one still pressed to the mattress.]

I mean, whatever. I don't care. Do you?

Sometimes.

[ It takes Kate a moment to admit it, a hesitant pause as she chews over the question and her answer. ]

But isn't everything? Kind of fucked up? Trying to make things normal hasn't really ever worked out for me.

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