[PRP] Nobody's Home (Stormy/Evan)

[medigel]

She did not know if the common room was smoke-free or not, but she didn't want to find out the hard way. Library steps it was.

With her lighter recovered from Abbi and a box of menthols, Stormy took over the uppermost steps and leaned against a nearby pillar, half covered in shade. Opening the new box gave her a vague sense of purpose, as if the act had sealed her into continuing forward. She took a cigarette from the lowest corner on the left side and set it in reverse, knocking on the box three times with a knuckle before taking the one next to it out. Mami used to do it rather ritualistically, and she felt like honoring the dead some.

It wasn't her first attempt at smoking, but she was still new. In her haze, Stormy forgot which end was supposed to be lit up again and which went into her mouth and spent the next ten minutes struggling to remember something so blatantly obvious, if she had enough active brain cells to rub together she would have felt sorry for herself.

Inle-roo

 

[Inle-roo]

Ultimately, neither end went into Stormy's mouth. Evan plucked the cigarette from her fingers and crushed it in his fingers, frowning disapprovingly down at her. If she had taken up smoking while he had been away, it would explain why he hadn't been able to find her in the common buildings--even running into her here had been pure dumb luck.

As happy as he was to see her--always, always, that would never change--he couldn't help but be a little disappointed, too. Mostly in himself, as usual, the guilt always lingering just below the surface; he was supposed to be there for her, to be the kind of good influence that was in short supply around here. He'd had his orders, though, and no choice but to follow them.

"There are enough things out there trying to kill us," Evan chided her as he brushed dried bits of cigarette off of his hands. "You don't need to help them along."

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

"It can't kill me," she said without missing a beat. Her eyes didn't lift towards Evan, though her shoulders went stiff with his intrusion, followed immediately by a wave of guilt for thinking so. It had a been a while. Way too long.

"It can't kill me," Stormy repeated, gazing down at her lighter under the weight of his disappointment. "He'll just fix it for me anyway. Harmless smoke's better than alcohol. No-one gets hurt."

She reached for another cigarette from the box.

Inle-roo

 

[Inle-roo]

"You get hurt," Evan replied, snatching the box away from Stormy. "He shouldn't have to fix this kind of damage. Self-inflicted and pointless--you don't need this. Whatever's driving you to this," he said, shaking the little box pointedly, "isn't worth hurting yourself over."

He didn't know, of course--couldn't have known anything that had happened while he had been gone. Being blindly overbearing now was the least of what he could do to make it up to her. Someone had to watch out for her, after all, if she wouldn't do it herself.

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

She bristled when the box was taken, shooting Evan a look. "You've been gone. You don't get a say on what's pointless or worth it," she said, flat and tart; it almost seemed comical given that her hat, which currently ate the majority of her head, was of a smiling cat with protruding ears to boot.

Stormy pushed herself to her feet, intent on getting the box back, whatever it took. "Give it back, Evan. My sister's dead, and I need a smoke."

Inle-roo

 

[Inle-roo]

Such sass was unexpected from Stormy, but not unwelcome. It was different than the happy, eager to please, never-say-die spirit she had shown him prior to that very moment, and while he was sad to see that part of her hidden behind this new and different Stormy, maybe--maybe it meant she was starting to grow up, to assert herself more. That would be nice to see, even if he didn't like the other changes that went along with it.

"Maybe I don't," Evan agreed with a shrug, "but I do get to tell you that there's always better ways to cope." He didn't back down when she stood--and why would he? She would always be such a little thing, no matter how much she grew up--but he stilled at her simple declaration. "What?" People died here all the time, but it didn't always seem to stick. "Who died?"

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

"Nevada," she clarified flippantly, her eyes narrowing. There was just enough of a spark in them to show she wasn't a zombie, but everything else about her seemed lifeless; the signs of insomnia hadn't left for sure.

She knew Evan was out of the loop, but she didn't feel like including him in it--not if he was stealing from her. Enough things were taken from her, willingly given or otherwise. No doormatting this time. She was putting her foot down on this god damn box of smokes.

"You don't get to tell me anything, Evan. You're not my boss or my dad. Second time: give it back." One of her hands twitched as if ready to summon her weapon.

Inle-roo

 

[Inle-roo]

It took a moment for Nevada's name, said so casually in contrast to the gravity of the news, to sink in. Evan frowned at Stormy, more in sympathy, now, than disapproval; he had liked Nevada, and he knew how close the girls had been. That, at least, explained why Stormy looked like something the cat had dragged in, chewed up, and spit out. It didn't explain the way she seemed to be taking this so well, though, smoking and sassiness aside.

He wondered if Chel knew, or if she would care.

His fingers twitched on the little box of cigarettes, less in defiance of her direct order and more out of a sudden sense to move, to do anything other than just stand there while someone else lay still and dead. "When did this happen? How?"

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

Stormy made a cross between a whine and a growl, stamping her foot childishly. This was what she got for leaving her room. Next time, she'd simply have to stay there, smell be damned. Open a window, stay inside, never have to come out again, never have to let anyone see.

"Give it back and apologize, and I'll tell you." She was tired of being generous for the sake of it. Not like it really mattered to people once it was done and they walked away.

Inle-roo

 

[Inle-roo]

At any other time, the sight of Stormy throwing a fit would have been as adorable as it would have been unthinkable. Now, though, he couldn't blame her--but it was still kind of funny to see.

Evan leaned towards Stormy, reaching out to give her shoulder a brief squeeze. "I'm sorry to hear about Nevada, sweetheart," he said somberly. Then he turned around and chucked the pack of cigarettes as hard and as far as he could. He watched it land, nodding as he judged it far enough, and then he started heading towards the dorms.

"C'mon," he called over his shoulder. "I've got something better than those."

Ol-j-man

hugs not drugs

 

[medigel]

Evan's comfort felt hollow in her ears. She watched the box soar and felt something inside her sink along with it. It was a dull realization repeating itself: anything of hers was doomed to get taken away proportionally to how much she wanted it. She couldn't even save a stupid box of cigarettes, let alone her sister.

< < You are being over dramatic. > >

Or Thane just didn't want to understand. Stormy gazed at the final resting place of her menthols and considered making a run for it anyway. She was light on her feet, lighter still now that she was barely eating; she could probably outrun Evan and lose him with a few turns.

But then, she figured, what was the point?

Shoving her hands in her coat pockets, she followed after him with downcast eyes.

Inle-roo

but bugs Evan, but bugs

 

[Inle-roo]

Evan kept his pace slow enough for her to keep up, even and deliberate as he walked to the dorms, down the hall, and to his room. He didn't bother looking behind himself to make sure she was still there; he could feel her gravity like a tangible thing, threatening to pull him in with it. He could empathize with her--more than anyone, he could empathize with her--but this pain belonged to her, and he couldn't and wouldn't intrude.

That didn't mean he wouldn't do what he could to help.

Evan ushered Stormy into his room, closing the door behind them and thinking for a moment before deciding to leave it unlocked. He walked over to the desk, pulled the chair out, and turned it around, away from the closet and the dresser. "Sit," he said.

Ol-j-man

hugs not bugs hugs not bugs D:

 

[medigel]

This was the first time she had ever been in Evan's room, now that she thought about it. Strange how she had never considered visiting or having him come over. (Some sister she was.)

Stormy remained stiff even as she obeyed, settling onto the chair with her hands still hidden inside pockets. Her eyes kept darting around, curious but unwilling to move more than was necessary, taking note that the door was still unlocked. If this became less than friendly and more interrogation room style, she could try to make a quick exit.

Whatever Evan's design was and regardless of her prior offer, she didn't plan on talking at all about what happened.

Inle-roo

 

[Inle-roo]

Evan paused for a moment after Stormy sat, fidgety, but at least she wasn't moving. That was good. He nodded, satisfied, as he turned towards his dresser. He didn't want her seeing this part. Some secrets transcended even the bonds of family.

He got down on the floor in front of his Deus-issued dresser, front side up, and stretched his arm into the narrow space between the floor and the bottom drawer. He reached, blindly, until his fingers caught hold of something solid. It took a few sharp tugs, what with the awkward angle, but the object Evan had been searching for finally came free with a harsh rip.

Satisfied, he stood and moved to the bed, sitting across from Stormy. Wordlessly, he handed her a half-empty bottle of cake-flavored Smirnoff. The front of the bottle was sticky and streaked with the residue of layers of duct tape, the splotchy design on it indicating that this wasn't the first time it had been subjected to this particular kind of treatment.

Ol-j-man

 

[medigel]

Curbing the instinct to turn around and look at what he was doing, Stormy fidgeted in the chair and started counting down to occupy her mind before it fell into some weird combination of daydreaming and guilt-tripping again like it had before. When Evan moved she jerked a little back into reality, watching him sit before her before zoning in on the object in his hands.

That was . . . not expected.

"You don't want me drunk," Stormy warned him, even though the fact that it existed was already tempting her to get up and snatch it from his grasp. "Smokes were safer. I don't get stupid on smokes." Or maudlin, or embarassingly open about everything.

Inle-roo