Nina's flat wasn't too far, Clara had made sure it was in walking distance as she couldn't really afford the cost of a ride, nor could her friend, and by the time they reached it, the alcohol had taken hold and the other woman was clinging to her, muttering something about the stove. Clara gripped her around the back and tugged her up the steps, trying to get her inside of the building and then into the elevator, and then across the hallway, and she burst into the flat and dropped her into her sofa.
"Good," she sighed, "Out," she added.
Curling up on the greenish couch, Nina immediately began to snore and Clara frowned, wondering whether she should pick her up and drag her to the bed, or if she'd be alright there. She imagined the woman would wake with a terrible headache in the morning and she felt horrible for scribbling a note and leaving it with a bottle of Aspirin on the kitchen counter before going back out into the night air.
She wrapped her arms around herself and began the long walk home, knowing her father would still be awake, some late night show playing mutedly as he ran over the crossword puzzle in his lap and she smiled when she pushed through the door and found him taking a kettle of hot water off the stove for tea. "Perfect timing, dad," she called softly, watching the surprise flutter across his face before he smiled warmly at her.
"Nina alright?" He asked.
With a nod, she explained, "A bit punched, but she'll be fine in the morning."
"Ah, you've never had to deal with a broken heart," her father told her with a nod of his head, "At least not of this nature," he added sadly. "It's gonna take time."
Clara took the mug he handed her and she inhaled the scent of honey and ginger before warming her lips at the edge of the ceramic, slowly allowing the liquid to heat her insides as she closed her eyes. Her father chuckled and when she looked at him she knew what he was thinking before he said it.
"Next time, you should take a thicker coat."
With a laugh, she declared, "It's frozen outside – should I have taken an igloo?"
"Oh Clara," he sighed, "Nina's gonna need more than a night of drinks. Wasn't she with this fellow for over a year now? College ending soon, she probably sees it as the start of a line of terrible things."
She didn't want to think about college ending, about going out into the world, about terrible things. "Losing someone isn't indicative of a pattern," she told him, and they exchanged a glance, neither saying what was on their mind.
Of course Clara was thinking about her mum. About how she thought her world would fall apart in the weeks after her death. Instead she thought about how it didn't. About how she cried occasionally, but decided that the world had to move on and she'd have to move on with it or get lost in it and Clara wasn't fond of getting lost.
Her father touched her shoulder and nodded, "You should get some rest."
"It's not late," she countered defensively as he laughed.
"Not telling you to go to bed, Clara, just making a suggestion."
With a nod, she began to walk to her room before turning and asking, "You watched the news, right?" He nodded. "There some sort of… is there anything going on?" Gripping her mug, she asked bluntly, "Are there pirates in Lancashire?"
Dave eyed his daughter and then playfully asked, "How much have you had to drink?"
She turned away, cheeks burning slightly before shifting back and shrugging, "There was just an odd fellow at the pub, look like he'd fallen off a ship."
"Maybe he had," Dave responded with a tilt of his mug in her direction. "All sorts of strange blokes out in the world – you're bound to run across one or two in your time."
"One or two," Clara laughed. "A bit more than I care to handle."
He raised an eyebrow at her and told her, "As your father, I'd advise you to not handle them at all. Just mind yourself and keep walking. Especially with Nina like this – she's liable to decide a pirate's exactly what she needs."
"Or a space bloke," Clara said absently.
"What?" Her father asked in amusement.
She laughed, giving him a shake of her head and a simple, "Nothing." She lifted her mug slightly with a nod of thanks and headed down the hallway to her room, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking another long sip with an exhale as it dropped into her stomach soothingly. Always room for tea, she knew. Kicking off her boots, she set the mug down and fell backwards in bed, deep in sleep when her father came in and lifted her up to slip her under the covers, pecking a gentle kiss at her temple.
"Pirates and space blokes," he laughed quietly as he pushed the sheets to her chin, "Neither would be good enough."
Killian had been thrown out of the pub and he wandered the streets with an odd grin. The portal should have taken him from Neverland back to his home and, he supposed, it had, just… a bit further into the future than he'd intended. With a chuckle at a pair of women in tall shoes and multi-colored hair, he wondered what he had intended. Had he intended anything at all?
"Oi, watch it," a man grunted as his back collided with the man's front. "Really should watch your step. Step on the wrong thing, step into the wrong thing, things change – things happen, things…" he looked Killian over with an expression he couldn't define. Surprise? Not quite. Amusement? Maybe a little. Alien? Absolutely.
He smiled, hands rising slightly as he eyed the lanky fellow standing before him adjusting the round-rimmed glasses on his long nose and going back to examining an odd device in his hands. "London's really gone to the dogs," he sighed.
"Not yet," the other man offered with a small wave of his hands. "At least, no. No," he repeated before straightening and laughing. "Sorry," he told him, smirk instantly disappearing from his face. "Bit early in time, do you have the time? The year, specifically."
He perked because he did have that answer. "2012, or so I've been told."
"Should be here," the man muttered, tapping the device that suddenly dinged.
"Lost someone?" Killian questioned, bending slightly to try and catch the green eyes that sparked instantly, as though he'd stumbled upon some wondrous thought. "Ah, lost a woman, mate?"
Looking flummoxed, the other man scratched at the back of his neck.
"Always a woman," Killian laughed. "Try the pub, back a bit," he gestured, "Just met quite the lass just a few moments ago."
There was a nod, absent in his continued examination of the device he now banged against his thigh before hissing in pain. "Pub, a bit back," he repeated and Killian lifted his hand in a half-wave as he watched him go, "Good luck with that," he called.
The fellow in the bow tie and brown tweed jacket nodded and continued walking.
