Hi. This is, hopefully, the beginning. Yay for me and...hmmmmm...my wandering daydreams?
Dana
Confessions. Who confessed things in the damn middle of the night anyway? To monsters who just showed up, sitting in her overstuffed beanbag chair? And. Did he have to stare? Smirk. Look entirely relaxed in her room? Overexertion, too much. I'm doing too much thinking, or whatever. Close your eyes Claire and go back to sleep.
"Would you stop with your psycho-babble." Tightly closed eyes meet the other occupant of her room. There was no reason she had to listen to this. No plausable reason why she was listening to him.
On the other hand. Coffee. As much as she enjoyed her cup of coffee before bed, it had to be why. Yes. After examing the situation, yep, it was the coffee. Had to be the coffee. Coffee was the reason Claire Bennet couldn't sleep. The reason she was up at 2:49 a.m. listening to moronic half formed thoughts. God. His thoughts.
I missed you Claire.
Everything was already too distorted in thinking patterns, thanks. She liked where she'd been. Before him. Not thinking of things he put into her head. No profound emotions. Ones she thought she recognised, that she didn't want to understand. Monsters shouldn't have these emotions, right? Shouldn't say things like that. Some thoughts concerning, well everything could be wayward but it has yet to cause her any problems. Mom says we're just good God frearing people. Dad says she and Lyle were raised well.
He said they were the same. At least he hasn't asked anything that she hadn't had to avoid. Miss me Cheerleader? No. Honest. And that's what she'd said.
Missed him. She'd spent too much time turning over their last Q&A session.
She'd worried.
About whether he was caught.
What he'd do to people.
Eyes opened, settling on him in the dark again. Seeing her eyes on him, not the floor below or the wall above, he spoke again.
" If you want to ignore all of my psycho-babble I hope you remember this. The initial argument. What we are is completely undermined and adopted by what we covet, in any context hereafter." His eyes, on her, never blinking. So she blinked, brow furrowed, letting out a bothered sigh. Reajusted her blankets.
"You're not making any sense. Could you not talk please. Trying to sleep here." Accompanied by what she hoped was a good glare.
"We're the same. Similarities scare them. Those people that love you," He seemed like he found this funny, a glimmer of a smile. "want to direct you. There is no predestined station ordained to you. To me. Not yet Claire. Don't allow yourself to be incensed in your effort to listen, criticize, and question, just think. Pull out what does make some semblance of sense and resist the impulse to chide what you interpret of it." Still looking.
Too much. No, her sense told her. No. Just no. She wasn't thinking. She was going to bed. Turned her eyes from his and rolled around, facing her closet. Reajusted her blankets once again.
"Claire, I'm not leaving." A pause.
The quiet didn't last. "Well, I'll come back anyway."
Depending on what the reaction is toward this incept, I'll decide how far I go with it...'cause you never know!