Work Text:
"Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth keeps on walking.
"Elizabeth!"
Stops. "What do you want, Kerry?"
"I –" Kerry doesn't want anything in particular. Nothing that Elizabeth can provide anyway. Just some – she wants to – she's just so tired of feeling harassed by everyone. Of all that anger, that hatred towards her over things she has to do. "Do you want to have lunch?" Well, she didn't know this was what she wanted.
Elizabeth takes a sharp breath in surprise. Kerry is surprised, too: "I mean… if you hadn't had any yet – we could…" God, what is she doing? "talk… You look hungry." Kerry wouldn't mind the floor to swallow her up right now, in fact she'd love it.
And Elizabeth is still staring at her, British primness transforming her into a statue. Her mouth is opened somewhat not British-like before she gets herself under control, then set into a harsh line: "I can't, Kerry. I don't have time." She doesn't. Want to have time.
She also doesn't want to see the very slight deflating of Kerry's shoulders or the not so slight exhilaration of relief. She marches off in angry confusion.