in which the jongerry WIP finally gets some actual jongerry in it
“So what do- I do?”
“Mmh?” Gerry asks, and swallows hurriedly. “What, if you find another one? Talk to Gertrude, I guess.”
“I’m not really… allowed,” Jon says. He’s really not – interaction with the Archives at all is the remit of senior researchers and senior researchers only (not that that’s always saying much) but if he wanted to talk to her he’d have to go through his supervisor, which means it would probably get back to Elias, and after everything that went down with the Declerc case… “Do you have a phone?”
Gerry blinks. “What?”
“I- sorry, I shouldn’t have-“
“No, no, I do, I just- I didn’t think you’d-“
“-don’t worry about it, I can-“
“Here,” Gerry says firmly, and grabs Jon’s hand.
Jon freezes up, every muscle locked into stiffness and every sense focused on the sensation of Gerry’s fingers against his, remarkably warm despite the breeze and the chill. Jon has to hold in a gasp at the heat.
Gerry, oblivious, hooks a Sharpie out of a pocket and scribbles something down on Jon’s palm: [ELEVEN?] numbers, no dashes, in a remarkably graceful script. He tips Jon’s hand to the side, inspecting it, and then says “God, you’re freezing. Why didn’t you say something?”
Jon struggles for words, for a moment, and then when Gerry’s eyes flick up to meet his manages to get out “–this was more important.”