Claire Bennet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adamantined) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2008-12-05 08:55 pm
adamantined) wrote in tampered2008-12-05 08:55 pm
bang bang that awful sound; log : on-going
When; December 4, 2008; evening
Rating; PG?
Characters; Eden (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
suicideslowly) & Claire (adamantined)
Summary; Sometimes you just need a little Audrey Hepburn and a few tubs of cookie dough to make it through the holidays. Warning: retarded girls ahead.
Log;
What they don't tell you is that shopping is exhausting. Or maybe they do tell you and you just never listen. It's so insubstantial anyway, hardly anything of importance: you go out, you look at some shoes, you eat a pretzel at Auntie Anne's and then you buy a couple dresses and some shining blue eyeshadow and call it a day. There's ice cream to be picked up on the way back to the apartments, even if it's in the thirties, and some fumble or other because someone's dropped their phone in a puddle while they were laughing. But pretty soon everyone is inside where it's warm and heeled boots can be taken off and sweatshirts can get pulled on underneath knit blankets.
At least here they can. In Texas, the weather is different enough that the blanket at least wouldn't be part of the equation. And she would be sitting at the counter, talking to her mother, and waiting for her father to get home while throwing rolled up wads of note cards at the back of Lyle's head. Instead, Claire has hollowed out a little spot in the corner of Eden's couch with a blanket and a bowl of ice cream. If she looks awkward, she doesn't feel it. In fact she's kind of completely at ease, if not tired. Because what they don't tell you is that shopping is exhausting.
Claire knows they're probably going to broach an awkward conversation or two before she has to go home at eleven, but those can wait until they crop up on their own. Right now, her mind is still stuck on DRESSES as she waits for Eden to put the movie on. "What's this about again?" she asks, through a garbled mouthful of ice cream. "Pants?"
Rating; PG?
Characters; Eden (
suicideslowly) & Claire (adamantined)Summary; Sometimes you just need a little Audrey Hepburn and a few tubs of cookie dough to make it through the holidays. Warning: retarded girls ahead.
Log;
What they don't tell you is that shopping is exhausting. Or maybe they do tell you and you just never listen. It's so insubstantial anyway, hardly anything of importance: you go out, you look at some shoes, you eat a pretzel at Auntie Anne's and then you buy a couple dresses and some shining blue eyeshadow and call it a day. There's ice cream to be picked up on the way back to the apartments, even if it's in the thirties, and some fumble or other because someone's dropped their phone in a puddle while they were laughing. But pretty soon everyone is inside where it's warm and heeled boots can be taken off and sweatshirts can get pulled on underneath knit blankets.
At least here they can. In Texas, the weather is different enough that the blanket at least wouldn't be part of the equation. And she would be sitting at the counter, talking to her mother, and waiting for her father to get home while throwing rolled up wads of note cards at the back of Lyle's head. Instead, Claire has hollowed out a little spot in the corner of Eden's couch with a blanket and a bowl of ice cream. If she looks awkward, she doesn't feel it. In fact she's kind of completely at ease, if not tired. Because what they don't tell you is that shopping is exhausting.
Claire knows they're probably going to broach an awkward conversation or two before she has to go home at eleven, but those can wait until they crop up on their own. Right now, her mind is still stuck on DRESSES as she waits for Eden to put the movie on. "What's this about again?" she asks, through a garbled mouthful of ice cream. "Pants?"
no subject
She looks down at her fingernails, and the bright blue polish is starting to chip so she picks at it a little bit. "I don't really want to talk to him, which kind of puts a lid on the whole tearing him a new one thing." Claire isn't sure how she's going to suffer taking care of Remy in the same apartment that Mohinder lives in, but she can suck it up and play cards with Hiro, who Mohinder's also been something of a jerk to.
no subject
Eden applied nail polish as well, recently. Clear polish. Harder to tell when it chips.
"Don't talk to him if it makes you feel uncomfortable, Claire. Eventually, things will ease up, and he'll come to you like a puppy with its tail between its legs. So many things that you've tolerated for him. His temper, and. Well, he told me about the incident with the gun." She pauses, here, wondering if she's breached a bad topic. "Besides, at least you won't be the only one left with him in the apartment while you're taking care of Remy. At the very least, I think the ducks are always there."
no subject
She's not serious. Maybe. Everyone in the world hopes, at least.
"It makes me feel bad not talking to him, but..." She trails off, remembering back so long ago, how Mohinder hadn't been himself, Tavi being there. Claire hadn't been mad or even upset. She had only been concerned for Mohinder. "That wasn't his fault. Something was happening at the time. He wasn't normal."
There's a quiet moment in which Claire takes herself back to that moment, in the apartment. How still everything had been and how afraid she had been only because someone else had known her secret, because it meant that Tavi was in danger. Or had been. She never knew about Sylar anymore. He confused her more than she was willing to admit. "I've been bringing Dinosaur with me," she goes on, softly, "whenever it's just me and Remy. I brought Mr. Muggles once but he peed in the corner and I had to clean it up aaaand I never brought him back because Mohinder already thinks Mr. Muggles hates him enough."