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When Laura arrived at Bill's quarters for dinner, he was sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the table in front of him.
"I was starting to think you weren't coming," he teased as she dropped her bag to the deck and kicked off her shoes just inside the hatch.
She gave him a tired smile, walked past him to the service cart.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said quietly, poured herself a drink, threw back her head and drained it.
Bill raised his brows in surprise when Laura repeated the action.
"Long day?" he asked cautiously, eyed her warily as she made her way over to the couch carrying a third scotch.
She deposited her glass on the coffee table, dropped down onto the cushion beside him with a long sigh.
"Yes," Laura breathed, ducked under the arm Bill held out to her and put her head on his shoulder.
"Well you're here now," he said, hugged her tightly to his side.
“Yes,” she agreed, raised her hand to his chest and slipped her fingers into his open jacket. “But we have to talk, Bill.”
“Laura,” Bill groaned. “Just … forget about everything for a little while, will you? You hungry?”
“I have something to - “
“It’s a yes or no question, Laura,” he interrupted with more than a hint of frustration. “Are you hungry or not?”
Laura sat up and leaned away from him, looked Bill in the eye.
“No,” she drawled, shook her head once. “I’m not hungry. I want to talk to -”
“Fine,“ Bill said flatly, dropped his head to the back of the couch and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “What the frak is so important it can’t wait until after we’ve eaten?”
She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes as she spoke.
“My cancer’s back.”