( Strangely enough, for all that Clarice craves someplace safe she doesn't exactly care for silence - the parts of the day that come after, adrenaline still coursing through her bones and far too many thoughts trying to crowd through her head with nothing to distract her. Which is why she's been staring at the ceiling for the last hour, firmly escorting any stray worry from the forefront to concentrate on anything else. The bed being more comfortable than any she's ever slept in, the lack of murmuring voices in the background, counting sheep, John.
Really, she should be given a medal for the restraint she's shown by not hunting him down the minute everyone else went to sleep. Clarice doesn't know what she'd do. She doesn't know what she wants other than to be close to him, to show that she meant it, to find out if his smile meant he did too. And it's as if she's summoned him, because the knock at her door brings him to her. Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she looks up to where he's leaning, green eyes taking him in while he isn't looking. )
What's wrong?
( It's a good thing ( or not ) that she tends to sleep in her clothes. It means she can rise quickly, cross the carpeted floor. )
no subject
Really, she should be given a medal for the restraint she's shown by not hunting him down the minute everyone else went to sleep. Clarice doesn't know what she'd do. She doesn't know what she wants other than to be close to him, to show that she meant it, to find out if his smile meant he did too. And it's as if she's summoned him, because the knock at her door brings him to her. Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she looks up to where he's leaning, green eyes taking him in while he isn't looking. )
What's wrong?
( It's a good thing ( or not ) that she tends to sleep in her clothes. It means she can rise quickly, cross the carpeted floor. )
Has something happened?