[Kiska]

There was something almost cathartic about the repetitive whirring of the copier as the soundtrack to this... whatever they were doing. Pointedly ignoring each other while also observing each other in silence. Calix sipped at his tea and waited for something to happen, whether that be the photocopier finally completing its task or Ace speaking to him again. He hadn't even intended to look up from the spot on the floor he'd picked to stare at, but the atmosphere in the room was changing, and making Calix feel much more agitated than he had in a long time. At least since his colleague in the library had tried to pin him against the desk when he was going into his pre-heat and trying to ride out the last day before he resigned himself to his apartment. That had really been his own fault, and he'd learned his lesson afterwards; but this was entirely different.

The air just felt a little thicker, and his body felt a little warmer. Nothing to be alarmed over.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him and he lifted his gaze to where Ace sat, reading aloud off the paper. He seemed agitated himself, but for all the librarian knew, it was over some past hidden demons that Ace was still battling. Just judging by his generally foul temperament, Calix thought there must be a lot of them. More than anything, he wanted to be able to do something, be of some assistance--any assistance--even if that was just sitting there quietly and being a constant presence. That was something he was good at, though most people couldn't understand why he chose to stay silent. Without being able to explain his heritage, there were a good many people who thought of him as standoffish, even after he'd done everything within his power to be of service to them. And then there were those even still who thought he was just strange and laughed behind their hands, whispering because perhaps they thought that just because he didn't speak, he couldn't see or hear them either. It was okay, really. At the end of the day, that was their problem, not his. He knew what kind of person he was, and if he had to bottle up the minute amount of hurt that it caused, then he'd do it.

Being of some sort of service made him feel good, gave him something to focus on so he could push past his own problems. In this case, he didn't know what he could do for Ace. The professor just seemed to be getting more and more frustrated, and Calix didn't know what to do. His stupid heart was racing, and he felt, for some reason like he was out of place or he was doing something wrong; not entirely fear, but more like... how he'd felt living in cliffside nests with his family, when he hadn't had a ship to sink in too long. Oh, yes. He needed something. And he convinced himself that he needed to help. That was it. He wasn't doing enough.

The siren watched, frozen in place as Ace swallowed down the pills, his eyes wide and concerned. Whatever he'd taken seemed to be doing the Fallen more good than Calix was, but it gave him a good opportunity to do something. He leaned over first, tips of his fingers ghosting over the Alpha's arm, and slowly, slowly, moved forward again, just until the professor's shoulder comfortably filled his palm. He held out his mug, offering a drink to help ease the pills into the Fallen's system, thinking to himself that something to eat wouldn't hurt either. He remembered in the beginning when he'd first been brought to Prine, the pain from his wing and the anxiety of being brought to a new place, far away from everything he'd ever known, he'd been prescribed with painkillers and an anti-depressant, just until he could settle in, and had been instructed to take them with food and water. The idea that he could do something had him feeling rejuvenated, and he stuffed his mug into Ace's hands as he bounced off the couch to rifle through the fridge in search of his own lunch. It contained a flaked salmon sandwich and several containers of various types of fruits. After a brief debate on what would be the best in this situation, the siren huffed loudly and brought the whole box back, dropping himself down cross-legged, facing the professor with his lunch box wide open.

Pick something. The gesture he made didn't need to be spelled out to be explained, and judging by the concerned look on the siren's face, there wasn't too much room for rejection. If Ace wouldn't pick, then Calix would.