(no subject)

[shelley_winters]

Shelley opens the door quietly when she gets home. She's tired. Not sleeping well - it's catching up with her, slowly - and then a busy day running around at work takes it out of you rather. And now a stretch of evening watching her back, trying to avoid Elan in her own house. Not much to look forward to.

He's there again, sitting on the coach and reading.

The living room smells like cleaning fluid.

She rolls her eyes to herself and shuts the door behind her.

Comments

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

Ah. There was a powerful tool. This behavior was rooted in trauma, a significant insight lay in her covering her chest with her arms.

Excellent.

"...My apologies for bringing the matter up."

A sip of his coffee.

[shelley_winters]

Angrily, but still looking firmly down, Shelley removes her glasses, and rubs at the lenses with her sleeve before replacing them in silence.

Not fair.

As if anything ever is anymore.

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

Saying nothing, Elan sipped his coffee and adjusted to sit cross-legged on the couch. There was little to say. This conversation had produced more than he could have hoped for--Almost anything he could have hoped for.

[shelley_winters]

A few minutes pass slowly, Shelley staring sightlessly in front of her as her coffee cools forgotten on the table.

Then she gets to her feet, in one quick motion, and makes for the stairs. A bath won't solve a thing... but maybe she'll feel a little better.

Maybe.