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Lawrence didn't get many visitors despite his resoundingly friendly open door policy. There was the very real risk that he would have to deal with Melvin showing up, but the other man was completely capable of paying simply friendly visits, it was simple.

"I'll get that." he said gently to Horace as he stood and moved to the door, opening it with his usual easygoing smile that he maintained around Melvin.

It froze when he saw who it really was, all pretence of warmth and lazy indolence coalescing into something focused and hard.

"Well howdy missy." he said, and his tone of voice was far out of step with his expression. "You lost? What brings you round this neck of the woods?"

"Naw," she answered easily, guiding Lawr out of the way with an almost gentle hand. "I've just liked talking with you lately, you make more sense than the rest even if..." America cut off upon seeing Horace.

Smile widening, she changed course, cooing happily, "Aww, were you bein' all cozy with your boy?" She trailed her fingers along the wall, tapping a playful tattoo as she moved.

Every word spoken, half-spoken, every movement was watched hawkishly. Only with great discipline did he manage to control his eyebrows before they rose into the stratosphere and took off into orbit. She liked talking to him lately, did she? Well, that was certainly news. And it was quite obviously not a public talk - like on twitter, but something more private. Horace had never before wanted to go through Jan's prone, but now he did, although he tried to squash the urge. The fact that Jan just let her in willy-nilly rankled just a bit, but she hadn't done anything, so Horace was going to sit still and see what would happen. He shot Jan a look that clearly said 'kick-me-out-and-there-will-be-a-talk-later', but the man had already turned back to America. Of course.

It set his teeth on edge. "Hi, America. Fancy seeing you here." He smiled, because it was what was expected of him and if it had a little too much teeth-baring to be a proper smile, well, nobody important was looking. "Don't worry about me - I'm just like a piece of furniture." He waved his hand in what he hoped was a flippant manner. And then he pointedly picked up his book again and flipped through a few pages.

America was given a flat look that was not entirely dissimilar from the looks he had been giving Chantelle of late. He contorted his hand into a claw but did not summon before relaxing it. The lamp itself was almost complete again, set on its usual side table as if it had never been broken.

"Oh is that her name?" he shrugged. "In these quarters it is frankly not hearing that is the trick. I have no interest at all in her missy, why should you care?"

There was a brief flash of teeth as she grinned, and she answered by way of turning back to Lawr and asking, "Is he sweet when he cries? I bet he's real sweet."

Fingers dancing along the side table she finally reached the lamp and gingerly picked it up, careful of the cord and the few unfinished areas. Turning it this was and that, America sat with it on the side of the bed. "I think I want this now." Glancing up, she beamed, "Give it to me?"

If there was a moment Horace wanted to simultaneously sink into the ground and push everyone else (yes, the both of them) into a hole in the ground, it was now. "That's hardly polite to speculate on, America." He briefly - more than briefly - considered wriggling his feet underneath America's a** and using them to lever her off of the bed and onto the floor. Maybe the lamp would break again and he'd steal enough pieces it would be un-reconstructable. It didn't help that he couldn't tell if Jan was calling him 'darling' or America. Well, he thought huffily, it better damn well be him. As if he needed yet another reminder of their past.

"I thought you rather enjoyed the lamp, Jan?" If America took it, Horace would ******** get it and toss it into the goddamn sea. He wiggled his toes thoughtfully.

"It is just a broken lamp." he said indifferently to Horace. "The quartermaster could give me another if I asked."

America got an odd look, as if for a moment he could not even recall the name, the woman associated with it filed away as so deeply unimportant she might as well have never existed. "Susan? What is there to tell? You would have to be more specific than that."