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“Jesus, Santos, I told you to secure the door,” Langdon mutters, pacing back and forth across the length of the room. It’s pretty big, for a closet—the walls are stacked full of various medical supplies, including the scalpels they came here for.
Thank god there’s a light in here, because nothing can get through the heavy, closed—fucking locked—door on Trinity’s left.
“It’s not my fault we have an automatically locking closet,” Trinity hisses, trying to ignore the anxious energy building at the realization that she’s fucking trapped. “Why the fuck would a hospital have that?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Langdon snaps, rounding on Trinity. “I don’t suppose you brought your phone down here.”
Trinity shakes her head tightly, taking a half step back from Langdon that she’s sure he doesn’t notice. He’s so much bigger than her. She doesn’t usually notice it, while she’s focused on patients, but it’s stark fucking clear when it’s just the two of them in a little room with nothing to keep her from running through all of the ways he could overpower her. She thinks she might puke.
Langdon drags a hand across his face, not even looking at her anymore, but he still feels too close, way too close. “Jesus Christ.”
Trinity tries to breathe through the pounding in her heart.
“If you don’t take a few steps back, this is about to get a lot more humiliating for both of us,” she says tightly, hoping Langdon can’t hear the slight waver in her voice.
Langdon stills, frustration melting into an unreadable expression.
“Okay,” he agrees, stepping back until he’s closer to the other side of the room.
Trinity wants to bristle at the sudden flip in his behavior—like she’s a frightened animal or some bullshit—but she’s not confident she’ll be able to handle whatever he shoots back.
“Can I sit down?” Langdon asks, and she knows he’s not mocking her, exactly, but it’s a little too tense to be nice, either.
She nods, sinking down a couple seconds after he does. Her legs are a little shaky, so she’s grateful for the chance to take some weight off of them. Still, she eyes Langdon warily. She hopes he knows that if he stands up, it’s not going to be pretty.
“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Langdon says evenly, eying her with an equally wary expression. “I didn’t realize I was in your space.”
Trinity rolls her eyes, because he really wasn’t in her space, and they both know that. But hey, as far as lies to protect her dignity go, she’ll take it.
“I’m not freaked out,” she says firmly, which earns her a pointed raise of the eyebrows from Langdon. Okay, yeah, maybe she’s not doing as good of a job at hiding it as she usually does. It’s a little rude of him to notice, though.
Langdon just watches her, searching her face for god-knows-what. It makes Trinity’s cheeks prickle with embarrassment.
Trinity groans. “Please don’t make this more weird than it already is.”
Langdon shrugs, like, you’re the one who made this weird. “What do you want me to do?”
And god, who the fuck knows what she wants him to do? She can’t exactly tell him, don’t assault me like I’m convinced you’re going to, that would definitely not go over well. Maybe, stop being older and a man and physically stronger than me?
“Just stay over there,” she says eventually. Don’t touch me, she wants to add, but she thinks someone would probably call HR on her for saying that.
Langdon raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, pushing himself back so he’s leaning onto the opposite wall. “I won’t move.”
Well, that’s a fucking lie, because Langdon always moves like his life depends on it. Right now he’s fidgeting with one of his hands, pressing each finger against his thumb in a little rhythm, over and over again. Whatever. It’s better than the pacing.
“I wasn’t going to— I’m not going to—,” Langdon starts, but Trinity cuts him off.
“I know that,” she says, a little more sharply than is perhaps warranted. “It’s not you, okay? It’s not your fault you’re just, fucking—threat-shaped.”
Jesus, that’s a fucking stupid way to put it. Trinity bites her lip, hard, trying to ground herself. She hates feeling like a fucking child. Children can’t keep themselves safe.
“Okay,” Langdon says carefully, and he looks some weird mix of relieved and more upset than before. “I didn’t mean to be threat-shaped.”
He says it so earnestly, so much more genuinely than anything else he’s ever said to her, and Trinity barks out a laugh.
“Yeah, no shit,” she says dryly. “Should have thought of that before you decided to be a man.”
Langdon dips his head at her, like, I’ll give you that.
She’s grateful he doesn’t react with total horror—maybe it’s just common enough for women to be traumatized that he had already filled in those blanks. Oh, joy.
The silence that follows is awkward, and Trinity worries her lip, keeping her eyes carefully trained on Langdon. Silence makes it worse. It gives her more time to forge little pathways between the Trinity sitting here and the Trinity sitting in her coach’s office all of those years ago.
“I’ve taken a lot of Krav Maga,” Trinity says abruptly, trying to cut off her train of thought. Langdon blinks at her.
“That’s cool,” he says uncertainly.
“And generalized self-defense. I could probably beat most everyone here in a fight.”
Langdon’s eyes widen a bit in recognition.
“Well, you could definitely beat me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “Fucked-up back, remember? I lose the fight against the stairs half the time.”
Trinity exhales a shaky laugh. She forgot about Langdon’s fucked-up back. Maybe she’s going to hell for the way her entire body fills with relief at the thought of his injury, but Jesus, she can’t help it.
Langdon’s eyebrows raise, smiling a bit, like he can see her exact train of thought. “Less threat-shaped, now?”
Trinity blinks, biting her lip. Yeah, she’s definitely going to hell. “Sorry.”
Langdon shrugs. “Hey, if any good can come of it.”
That makes Trinity feel even worse, because, right, the back injury was the reason he got addicted to benzos in the first place. And then she got him fired. She cringes a little.
“We’re good,” Langdon says firmly, watching her. “Okay?”
Trinity nods, pulling her legs up so she can rest her chin on her knees. “We’re good. Still don’t move, though.”
“I know,” Langdon says. “Am I that bad at this?”
Trinity eyes him for a second, and then shakes her head. “Nah, you’re not. You’re pretty good at this, actually, compared to all of the other residents I’ve been locked in closets with.”
She grins, so Langdon knows she’s joking, and Langdon grins back.
“What do you think we’re missing out there?” Langdon asks, glancing at the door.
Trinity doesn’t take her eyes off of Langdon—she’s not quite there yet. “Probably fun shit,” she says glumly. She’d been hoping for a gory day today.
“They’ll find us soon,” Langdon says. “We’re too vital to the Pitt’s ecosystem to function without us for long.”
“What, ‘cause you’re Robby’s favorite?” Trinity teases, to an eye roll from Langdon.
“‘Cause we’re both a little too fucked-up to be normal about anything,” he says, smiling wryly. “Trust me, they need us.”
From anyone else, Trinity is pretty sure that would be an insult. But from Langdon, it’s like some sort of understanding.