[And so she scurries on over there, looking about as guilty as she feels. She figures Letty won't want to get up to unlock the door, but she also doesn't want to just barge in, so... knock, knock.]
[She doesn't feel like yelling or getting up, and honestly she doesn't want to see anyone right now; honestly, when she hears the knock there's a small jolt of her heart, and she moves one hand over the gun she has stashed in the cushions of the couch right now. The text solves all of that neatly: if it's Tiffany, she'll get it and come in. If it's not, whoever it is will hopefully move on.
She's only been alive again for less than 24 hours, and she looks and feels like shit. She's as pale as her complexion will allow, eyes glassy and aching, and her body hurts everywhere the crowbar fell, everywhere she was slammed into another surface. She slept for hours in Dom's bedroom upstairs, and has only made it as far as the couch now where she's currently bundled in an oversized hoodie and a couple blankets and still shivering every now and again.
There's still a little blood in her hair. It makes her skin crawl, but there's nothing she can do about it right now, not when she did damn good not breaking her neck just getting down the stairs. She doesn't try to smile for Tiffany, her voice a harsh, dry croak of sound.]
[Tiffany opens the door and slips into the cabin, trying - and mostly failing - to keep the wince off her face when she sees the state Letty's in. She should come to the infirmary, she thinks. But Letty knows the infirmary is there, and if she wanted to go, she would. She clearly doesn't.]
[Letty wants nothing to do with the infirmary; she knows how these things work. There's no actual injuries, nothing to treat other than to numb it all down, and she feels better here. She feels safer here. She's home, here.
Letty takes her hand off the buried gun and sits up a little, ignoring the wince, her jaw set and expression determined not to flinch herself as she reaches to accept them both.]
Thanks. [She takes four, because fuck it, and drains half the glass in slow, steady swallows before setting it aside and settling back in.]
Siddown. [She's curled up small enough there's room on the couch beside her.]
[Letty is, normally, abrasive enough. She's even moreso when she has no energy left over for what minimal softening of her self that she normally does.]
[It's not what she wants to say. She wants to ask Letty if she's mad at her. She wants to ask exactly how it went down. She wants to ask what Roderick said, and how he did it. But she's learned that there's sometimes a wide, wide gulf between what she wants to do and what she should do.]
[Letty really, really feels like crap, she wants to huddle down in her warm blankets and clothes and close her eyes and not wake up until it all stops hurting, until that weak, shivery feeling at her core goes away. But she can't do that on her own. She needs people.
No, she could do it on her own, but it's so much easier with people. She just sometimes forgets that people, sometimes, take a lot of energy too. Letty breathes out, eyes locked on Tiffany, and tries again.]
My friend hurt you, and I'm sorry. You're my friend too, and I love him but I'm scared of him. And I wanna help him and I wanna help you, and that's all.
[She twitches a hand like she's going to lift it, but decides against it.]
[It's difficult to make her mind work, but it's easier when she has a target she can see. She might be able to do it if she doesn't also have to guess about what she's aiming at right now.]
[Letty purses her lips unhappily instead of shaking her head. She can choose to argue it, or she can choose to stay focused, she can only do one at a time.
[She sighs, then, and lets her head drop back onto the cushion behind it. She stares up at the ceiling and tries to decide how to make this clear in a way that will use as few words as possible, that doesn't make her feel worse to think about, let alone say.]
[She copies Letty - head against the back of the couch, eyes on the ceiling. She's silent for a few long moments; when she speaks again, her voice is barely audible.]
[Letty is not a girl that cries. She ironed that out of herself a long time ago, given the crowd she normally runs around with; it's difficult enough to be taken seriously with a set of tits. Add tears to the mix, and forget about it.
She blinks a few times, swallows, and refuses to let it happen now.]
Me too. [And not just Merlin, although she's not so sure she's ready to try to talk about anyone closer. God knows what will happen then.
[The tears that had started to prick her eyes when she first mentioned Merlin are threatening to spill now; she reaches up and preemptively wipes them away.]
And if you ever wanna talk about... about Merlin or home or what Roderick did or anything - anything at all - you can talk to me, okay? I think people see me like I'm a little kid, and I can't handle anything, and they gotta protect me all the time--
[And maybe they're right, in some ways. She's fragile, even now, in more ways than one.]
-- but I don't think I am. Not as much as they think.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ Private ]
[ Private ~~~> Spam ]
[She doesn't feel like yelling or getting up, and honestly she doesn't want to see anyone right now; honestly, when she hears the knock there's a small jolt of her heart, and she moves one hand over the gun she has stashed in the cushions of the couch right now. The text solves all of that neatly: if it's Tiffany, she'll get it and come in. If it's not, whoever it is will hopefully move on.
She's only been alive again for less than 24 hours, and she looks and feels like shit. She's as pale as her complexion will allow, eyes glassy and aching, and her body hurts everywhere the crowbar fell, everywhere she was slammed into another surface. She slept for hours in Dom's bedroom upstairs, and has only made it as far as the couch now where she's currently bundled in an oversized hoodie and a couple blankets and still shivering every now and again.
There's still a little blood in her hair. It makes her skin crawl, but there's nothing she can do about it right now, not when she did damn good not breaking her neck just getting down the stairs. She doesn't try to smile for Tiffany, her voice a harsh, dry croak of sound.]
Hey.
[ Spam ]
I, uh. Got you your Tylenol.
[She wiggles the bottle.]
And a glass of water.
[ Spam ]
Letty takes her hand off the buried gun and sits up a little, ignoring the wince, her jaw set and expression determined not to flinch herself as she reaches to accept them both.]
Thanks. [She takes four, because fuck it, and drains half the glass in slow, steady swallows before setting it aside and settling back in.]
Siddown. [She's curled up small enough there's room on the couch beside her.]
[ Spam ]
You got a nice cabin, here.
[ Spam ]
[Letty is, normally, abrasive enough. She's even moreso when she has no energy left over for what minimal softening of her self that she normally does.]
's going on with you?
[ Spam ]
[It's not what she wants to say. She wants to ask Letty if she's mad at her. She wants to ask exactly how it went down. She wants to ask what Roderick said, and how he did it. But she's learned that there's sometimes a wide, wide gulf between what she wants to do and what she should do.]
[ Spam ]
[Letty really, really feels like crap, she wants to huddle down in her warm blankets and clothes and close her eyes and not wake up until it all stops hurting, until that weak, shivery feeling at her core goes away. But she can't do that on her own. She needs people.
No, she could do it on her own, but it's so much easier with people. She just sometimes forgets that people, sometimes, take a lot of energy too. Letty breathes out, eyes locked on Tiffany, and tries again.]
Spit it out.
[ Spam ]
[She twitches a hand like she's going to lift it, but decides against it.]
[ Spam ]
[It's difficult to make her mind work, but it's easier when she has a target she can see. She might be able to do it if she doesn't also have to guess about what she's aiming at right now.]
Listen.
He did this. Not you. Period. Yeah?
[ Spam ]
[But she also thinks it's a little more complicated than that.]
Look, I didn't come 'cause I wanted you to try to make me feel better, okay? I-I'm not... I'm not that selfish.
[ Spam ]
And so, priorities:] Why scared of him?
He threaten you?
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
I thought you wasn't in a talking mood, Letty.
[ Spam ]
[She sighs, then, and lets her head drop back onto the cushion behind it. She stares up at the ceiling and tries to decide how to make this clear in a way that will use as few words as possible, that doesn't make her feel worse to think about, let alone say.]
Dunno what else to do right now.
[ Spam ]
[She copies Letty - head against the back of the couch, eyes on the ceiling. She's silent for a few long moments; when she speaks again, her voice is barely audible.]
I miss Merlin so much.
[ Spam ]
She blinks a few times, swallows, and refuses to let it happen now.]
Me too. [And not just Merlin, although she's not so sure she's ready to try to talk about anyone closer. God knows what will happen then.
But:] I miss home.
[ Spam ]
[Not enough to leave, anyway.]
Did you know it was gonna be like this, when you came? Did the Admiral explain?
[ Spam ]
Don't really remember. Dead then too.
Never did know when to shut up.
[ Spam ]
I think you say good things. Things that are important.
[ Spam ]
Merlin said that too.
[ Spam ]
Merlin's a smart guy.
Are you gonna stay?
[ Spam ]
[She breathes in, sniffs back the peppery feeling in her own sinuses.]
Won't leave Lloyd. Not interested in just being plain ol' dead. Stuck with me.
[ Spam ]
And if you ever wanna talk about... about Merlin or home or what Roderick did or anything - anything at all - you can talk to me, okay? I think people see me like I'm a little kid, and I can't handle anything, and they gotta protect me all the time--
[And maybe they're right, in some ways. She's fragile, even now, in more ways than one.]
-- but I don't think I am. Not as much as they think.
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]