Xaviers!

It's only late afternoon when Miriam finds herself back at the dorm. She'd spend an hour or so in kind of a daze, getting checked out at the infirmary who confirmed that she was in fact back among the living. She didn't really care much for the confirmation. She was breathing, feeling her heart beat in her chest and the sun had warmed her skin on the way over. What more did she need to know?

That it would last. For all the relief and almost euphoric feeling she could not silence the voice in her head that this could all still be ripped away from her again the moment she'd lay down and fall asleep. And with the sun setting the dread begins to build. She won't know if this is real until she wakes and the day no longer resets and plunges her back into the cold embrace of undeath and she's uncertain how to endure until then. Already she can feel her mind fraying at the edges and it'll only get worse. There is one thing she can think of to maybe make it through the night a little easier but somehow she dreads asking for it even more.

And so she stands in the middle of the common room of their dorm, glancing at her door and the familiar urge to withdraw, then over at Sam's door. She doesn't even dare to cast her mind out enough to see if the red-head is back from sorting throught he aftermath of this mess yet. If she did she'd be a stray thought away from divulging much too much...

"I swear," Sam says as she steps into the room freshly showered in a bathrobe, "there's no sufficient amount of showers after literally wading through several of your own corpses."

Miriam is... not quite startled but a little taken aback by the sight of Sam, which is more than a bit unusual.

"I can imagine. Uhm... my apologies for not sticking around to help out with that. It's been a rough day." she says, running her hand through her hair to brush some loose strands out of her face. No snippy comment about the Goddess of Death actually having to put in some hands-on work but instead an apology and a bad joke? She really must be thrown for bit of a loop alright.

"Aye well... I know the punching baddies bit usually isn't your thing."

"That's not even it. Don't get me wrong, I don't particularly care for throwing a punch, especially not like you do, but this was... I didn't think we were ever going to make it stop. I thought we'd be trapped forever. I'm... still not entirely sure this day will actually end and tomorrow morning won't just wipe away everything all over again." she says, finding her hands have crept up to her forearms, hugging herself.

"It's further than you've ever gotten today, isn't it?"

"I've gone to bed at the end of the day plenty of times but this is the first time it feels like we actually pushed past something, fixed this whole mess. And I'm terrified that it won't matter." she nods.

"We could order a pizza and watch movies that do or don't involve time loops, depending on your mood."

"I... think I would like that, yes." she says perhaps a bit too eagerly, then adds "I don't want to be alone tonight." so she at least doesn't completely feel like she was too bloody scared to ask a simple question.

"Then don't be, aye? You've been... well, marinading in this longer than any of the rest of us. Subjectively, at least."

"Oh is it that simple?" she laughs nervously. "You might have noticed that even when I'm not going through some harrowing existential upheavals I'm not exactly good at... this." she gestures vaguely at nothing.

"That's what the pizza's for," she smiles faintly. "Don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"And the white noise of some movies. Proven formula."

"Fair enough. You pick something to watch, I'll order the pizza. Not chancing the first meal with proper taste in a while on you choosing something weird like pineapple or the eyes of your foes."

"Oh, don't be silly."

"The local places don't do that anyway."

Miriam rolls her eyes. "Olives it is." she says, pulling out her phone to place an order with one of the local pizzerias.

"And you should probably put on some clothes or I'm not sure how much attention will be paid to the movie."

"Well someone more important than trousers caught me on the way back from showering."

"Hmm? Who was that?"

"It's slipping my mind," she smirks as she makes her way into her room to get dressed.

It takes Miriam entirely too long to piece together that she'd be important to somebody but fortunately by then Sam has left the room and she can at least quietly cringe at herself. Yet somehow she ends up with a smile on her face and shaking her head slightly as she sits down on the couch.

Sam finally comes out in a reasonably neutral shirt and some pajama bottoms.

"All sorted, then?"

"As sorted as I can be, I suppose." she says, patting the couch next to her.

"So what's the mood for the evening's entertainment?" She asks as she walks over and sits down.

"I don't know... something boringly wholesome?"

"I didn't think cheesy rom-coms were your speed, but I guess that's about the level of not thinking we want."

"They are not. But I can make fun of them. So uhm... maybe don't pick one you like? You don't seem like the type to have a favourite rom-com but I don't actually know what kind of movies you watch..." she says a tad awkwardly. Why was this so hard.

"Wasn't exactly a regular movie night at Muir," she agrees. "We'll find something."

She picks up the remote, paging through the selections and hovering over 'Love, Actually' thoughtfully. As she's doing this, her free hand finds Miriam's.

"This was easier when you didn't have a pulse, wasn't it?"

"This was easier when we were dancing around the fact that were were probably going to end up in bed, not doing much thinking. This?" she says, gently lifting up Sam's hand with her own, "This has never been easy..."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that." she says almost a bit brashly but despite breaking eye contact and staring intently at the floor she holds on to Sam's hand.

"Aye well, we're going to watch probably the rommest of coms, so strap in," she smirks with a squeeze of Miriam's hand.

Lifting the remote, she starts the movie.

"This is going to be unbearably twee, isn't it?"

"It's got Hugh Grant in it, what do you think?"

"I think that I clearly don't understand romance." she says, but Sam can tell that while she's enjoying mocking the movie, she also hasn't let go of Sam's hand and she is actively watching.

"Ah yes, famed bastion of romance. Heathrow."

"They can't all be set in Paris."

"Oh like that'd actually be any better." she snarks.

"The food would be, at least."

"Now that I can't argue with. And I guess there's a bit of traveling wonder to airports, even if the reality is dreadful."

"You get the impression that this movie was just a welfare program for British actors."

"But only those so British it meets the Americans' expectations of what a Brit's like."

For all her snarking, Miriam does seem to be actually enjoying herself. They're both telepaths, so Sam can easily tell she's still awkwardly nervous underneath but mainly because she thinks (knows) she'll screw this up somehow. A bit into the movie pizza arrives (olives, red pepper, mushrooms and salami) giving Miriam some reprieve from the much too teenager-y anxiety about holding hands with somebody.

"First hot meal alive again. Feels good, aye?"