He hears a weak cough as he approaches the dressing room door of his opposite lead. He pauses when he hears the noise again, then knocks.
"Come in," Her voice sounds as though she's trying to project its usual strength, though failing miserably. He opens the door.
"Hey, Idina. We're all going for dinner. Want to join us?" As he asks he notices the hastily shut tube of coverup on the counter, complete with not quite smoothed in streaks under her eyes.
"Thanks for the offer, James, but I really better get home to Walker." Her eyes dart around the room, landing everywhere but on his.
"I understand. We'll miss you though," he watches her breathe slightly shallow breaths, as if it hurts to breathe in completely.
"Thanks," she says in a flat voice. She glances up, coming the closest to meeting his eyes since he opened her door. Her eyes betray her and fall open for a moment, and he sees her unbelief that anyone could actually miss her. "Have fun."
"Thanks. You too. Get some rest and enjoy your time with Walker." A slight smile crosses her face at the mention of her son.
"I will." Her breaths have become even shallower and more halted, and she seems anxious to be alone in her room again.
"Well, see you tomorrow." He excuses himself and she shuts the door behind him. A few steps down the hallway he hears the coughs resound from behind the closed door. She didn't want him to see her sick. Not that she'd admit to being sick though. He had never met a woman more strong willed and determined, taking everything life threw at her and not letting anyone see anything but her very best. Though he knows he's far from knowing what all is going on inside of her, he is sure she's in need of a friend, someone to listen and care. So that he promises himself to be.