A/N: Part 2 out of a 3 chapter update. Uhh... not much to say here? Other than have fun reading about Gray and Claire's life together! I swear I could write a zillion oneshots for them as roommates, this one was so fun :)
Gray yawns, gets up from her couch, goes to brush his teeth, and returns to flick her lights on. It's so early that the sun hasn't even begun to rise yet.
Claire's lying horizontal on her bed, face smushed in her pillows. Maggie hops up beside her, wagging her tail and pushing the fabric away with her snout.
She groans. "Gray, turn that light off. I swear to God, I will throw you out."
"Up, let's go."
"Ugh, leave me alone. I really don't wanna."
"Too bad."
She cracks one eye open irritably. It's all glassy and glazed over from the lack of sleep. "You're a horrible roommate."
"That's tough. We haven't trained in awhile."
"But it's too cold out."
"Lookit how big your hallway is though. We'll train here."
"Oh, Gray, c'mon-"
"Up."
"Like, five more minutes."
"We'll start with kicking."
"Oh, I will kick you."
"Hurry up."
Begrudgingly, Claire rises, putting on her slippers while Gray waits at her kitchen table impatiently with an instant coffee in hand. It's growing on him, or he's developed a tolerance for it now. He's not exactly sure.
It's not like she has walls or a door separating her bed from the rest of her house, so everything's just out in the open and exposed. As a result, and probably due to what Trent said, she's wearing long-sleeved, thick blue pajamas with a white trim that accentuate absolutely nothing. They'd probably be sexy if she just ditched the flannel pants altogether and slept in her underwear like one of those college girls - Jesus, that'd be something. He quits his horny daydreaming when she glares at him, opening her drawer to grab a change of clothes, before disappearing and remerging from her bathroom fully changed a few minutes later.
"Okay, let's go," Gray says, taking a sip from the Central Perk mug.
"One sec," she mumbles, walking over to her knapsack on the floor.
"Blondie, hurry up."
"Gray, I could kill you. I really could."
"Hurry. Up."
"I'm grabbing something."
He rolls his eyes. "Grab it later."
"I can't."
"You can."
"I really can't."
"Quit stallin'. Why don't you just-"
Claire looks up from her backpack, eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. "CAN YOU LEAVE ME ALONE WHILE I TRY TO FIND MY TAMPON IN PEACE?!"
And his genius response is: "… Uh, why?"
She retrieves a purple packaged little… thing between her fingers, scoffing. "I'll give you one guess."
"Oh." Gray's face turns all red. He's a real idiot sometimes. "Sorry."
She glowers at him before darting into her bathroom and returning once again. She's retrieved her boombox as well, shaking her head in annoyance.
"What?"
"Within the first ten minutes of me waking up," Claire says to him. "I need to be left alone. I'm not a morning person."
"Yeah, I could tell."
"Especially when I'm on my period."
"Uh-"
"Do not wake me up again."
But he does.
He does it every day, except on Thursdays and Sundays - that's still his time to sleep in. It's just that Claire needs to learn how to protect herself, and therefore, they need to train together. She complains for the first bit, telling him how dead he is to her, and soon she's getting back into the groove of it, blocking and maneuvering her hands, exercising what he's taught her.
"You need to get better," he says. "You fucking suck right now."
Claire scoffs, wiping the sweat off of her chin with the back of her hand. "Are you trying to make me angry?!" She attempts to cross his face with her fist, but he blocks it and sends her arm back.
"That's my only goal in life."
She'll then proceed to grab her shitty Sony CD player, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she realizes that he's managed to sneak in one of his rock CD's.
"Aw, man!" Claire says in disappointment, hearing the sound of an electric guitar being strummed. "Where's my 80's hits?"
"This is better than that."
"Gray, you're so bossy."
"You don't like Sum 41?" He tries grabbing her arm as a tactic, and she struggles to get him off before kicking her leg out at him. He manipulates his hands around her own, and although she hasn't completely lost what he taught her, it isn't as good as it was.
"Not… really."
"This song's called 'Fat Lip.'"
She points to his mouth. "How fitting."
"Smart ass."
But living with Claire isn't bad, it's honestly not. The only time he went back… home was when he had to finish his last jewelry order, and grab the rest of his things. He didn't pack all of it: just some extra clothes, the bass Claire got him, and his collection of CD's. His grandfather was nowhere to be found, or maybe he was just hiding out in his room until Gray left. Regardless, with nothing to do, he helps her out on her farm as a thank you for letting him stay there rent-free. Not that she'd ever charge him, but she's got no idea how much he appreciates this; appreciates her. They're literally always together now, and it's not a bad thing at all.
Plus, because winter is the busiest season for the Mineral Town clinic, in the time that Trent should be spending with Claire before he leaves, he's booked to hell with all of the sick residents who live here. She really only sees him the evening before he departs, and as a result, she's always home. Always with Gray.
He picks up on the little things about her, now that he's around her more and more. For starters, her accent is so hard to miss now; he hears every single er or ar in her words replaced with a rounded ah, like when she says "bettah" or "depahtment" or "cah" (that's car). And it's like, it gets added to the things that he loves about her: her constant baking, how she's always got something so good in her oven that she's experimented a new recipe with, her overt kindness (excluding the morning time), her laugh, the way that they both never run out of things to talk about.
And while he's there, they're not fighting.
Okay, they're still bickering and disagreeing as much as ever (maybe a little bit more actually), but they're not fighting fighting. It's really hard to not dispute with her, because as much as Claire possesses a lot of good qualities, she's definitely not without her faults.
He is too, though. She can get into his later, whatever.
For starters… everything that Claire does, she's gotta do it while singing or dancing around her house. And nine times outta ten, it's always to the goddamn 80's. It's like she thinks that she's in some sappy Disney movie or something. And another thing: she's constantly picking arguments. He didn't think so many things would tick her off, but jeez… she's really got a temper that rivals his own. She's also way too cheerful sometimes, blissfully ignorant to the world around her, and neurotically caring; like, he's not used to someone giving a shit about him this much.
The worst is probably her stubbornness though… and Jesus, she is so headstrong it freakin' hurts.
But that's just her. Every part of this makes her Claire, and he doesn't think that he'd want it any other way.
He says that now, but just wait 'till she busts his chops later; just wait.
Manna's petition to bring back cable television ends up getting achieved; Thomas begrudgingly got it for the town, and because of this, Gray and Claire have found a new thing to keep them busy at night.
They watch everything comedy-related. Sometimes Kai and Popuri come by to view the stand-up specials with them, or to just watch The Simpsons reruns. There's this one night that all three of the Austin Powers movies are playing on MTV, but Kai cut their evening short, so Gray and Claire are the ones to stay up late and finish them all, dying of laughter. Just watching, the two of them in stitches next to each other. Maggie will be in between them while Claire tucks her legs out to the side, ankles touching his own as she's out of breath from snickering so much.
And it's times like this where Gray wonders how he let himself get in such a dark place that night his grandfather threw him out. How he could think all of those horrible things when there's a girl right next to him who makes him realize that it's not so bad to be breathing.
Sometimes, they'll catch the hockey game. Most of the time it's just him watching, because fuck, he missed hockey, and Claire will say goodnight and head off to bed, Maggie following suit. But other times, she'll watch with him, demand to know why he's screaming at a television screen when none of the team can hear him, and he'll have to explain to her that it's like he's there in the stands at United Center arena, so yeah, he doesn't care that they can't hear him because he's still gonna be audible. There's this one evening when her Bruins are versing his Blackhawks, and he's shouting at the screen, and she's just laughing at him mid-pizza bite, yelling back when her favourite player fucks up, and he's okay with this. He's so okay with life if it's going to be like this.
But then he'll be reminded of how things really are, because she'll get up from the couch, Maggie in arms, telling him goodnight, and he'll say it right back, and he can't pinpoint what it is... it's just that Jesus, he's never slept over a girl's house in separate beds than them. It's… different.
Sometimes she feels different. Sometimes there's a moment that they share where things feel different. Not bad… just different.
During the day, he'll fish in the cold with her; something his dad proclaims that he's good at, even though this is the farthest thing from the truth. Or, he'll help her carry the milk from her cows into her maker sheds, then transport them over to her fridge so she doesn't have to make so many trips. He doesn't hate being on the farm with her, but he hates how rundown the barns are.
"Done," Gray says, pulling an extra nail out from between his lips. He's reminded of the ghostly feeling of a cigarette that used to burn up and decay itself there, so he decides to stop remembering, dropping his hammer to the side. "You're good."
"Thank you!" Claire exclaims, marveling at the fixed plank wood. "That was driving me nuts. It was always letting a draft in here."
He rolls his eyes. "So why didn't you fix it?"
"And how would you have liked me to fix it?"
"By getting someone useful who could."
"By getting someone useful who could," she mimics. They've been watching way too much Robin Williams stand-up comedy. "I was going to call Gotz, but he's always busy. Plus, sometimes I'm a little afraid to talk to him. He's like, 7 foot and über scary."
"Okay, first of all, him and me are the same height-"
"Well, you're not scary."
"Right."
"You're not. Not really, anyway."
"Second, he charges way too much. Just tell me and I'll fix what needs fixing."
Claire arches her brow. "Really."
"Just not your lock. You gotta call someone for that like I keep saying, 'cause I'm no good with those, but literally anything else."
"You can add potlights to my kitchen?"
"Duh."
"And you can reattach the knobs on my middle cabinet?"
"Yes?"
"And you can install a fireplace?!"
"K, back it up." Gray manages a laugh. "I didn't say I could do full reno's."
Claire smiles at him, digging her hands into her jacket as they both step out of her barn. Maggie follows them, hopping around in the snow and diving her head under the large piles that are beginning to fall. "And here I thought you were just some useless city snob."
"You got it all wrong," Gray says with a chuckle, holding the front door open for her. "My dad was making me do this shit when I was like, five years old. As if I cared about any of it."
"Well, this is what I'm thinking. I'd put the fireplace right here," she says holding her hands out like she's framing a picture in her mind. She adjusts her direction to the bare wall across from the left side of her kitchen. "Mark my words, I'm gonna save up my money so I can have it installed here one day, and then my house will be allll complete and cozy."
He leans back, considering it. "Work on getting a dishwasher first, 'cause I'm always breaking your shit in the sink."
"I'm keeping a mental note." Claire taps her head carefully. "Don't think I've forgotten. You're forever indebted to me."
"Guess I am," he says.
The night Kai leaves with Popuri, the gang gathers at the inn one last time, until the two return next summer. He bakes two pans of brownies: one batch regular, and one batch, er, special.
He incorrectly labels them.
… You know where this is going.
"Hey, the ones with weed in them… those were on left hand side, right?" Kai asks, frowning. He's not feeling anything right now.
Popuri looks up at him from the edge of the boat they're on, her head spinning dizzily. "Kai… they were the ones on the right hand side!"
He stares at his loopy girlfriend. "Ah, fuck."
Claire stumbles into her house with Gray beside her like she's walking on a cloud, giggling like crazy over literally nothing. He holds her in tow, laughing.
Here's a math problem: if Gray had three pieces from both batches, and Claire had three pieces from what he can only suspect is a grossly-mislabeled batch, then how fucked are they both going to get tonight?
"Psst," she whispers.
"Hmm?" he asks.
"Psssssst."
"What?"
"When you erase a word."
"Yeah?"
She widens her eyes. "Where does it go?"
"I dunno."
She giggles again, flopping down on the couch as he takes a seat next to her. Maggie jumps up and licks her cheek, causing her to look down in surprise like she's never seen a dog before.
Gray's been high plenty of times, so the edibles aren't hitting him that hard.
Claire's never even taken a dosage of Tylenol 3.
"Wanna hear a joke?"
"Go ahead," he says, leaning back on the couch next to her. The world is spinning in a good way.
"So a guy walks into a bar."
"Ah-huh."
"Ouch."
"What?"
"Ouch it was a steel bar."
Yeah, those brownies were definitely mislabeled.
Claire is just busy laughing, cracking herself up, because her high is basically just as lame as her sober counterpart.
"Do you wanna hear one?"
"Yeah," she says, staring up at the ceiling like it's got the stars outside written all over it. Snow is falling from her window, like an intricate white blanket over the earth.
"What do you call a cheap circumcision?"
"I dunno... what?"
"A rip off."
Claire pauses, before gasping and laughing hard. "You are sooo bad."
"You're laughing."
"I'm laughing 'cause it's funny that you're a guy, and that joke could... or could not apply to you aaaand-" She cuts herself off, face suddenly creeping red. "And I said all that in my mind, right?"
Gray just leans into her and laughs, shaking his head. "Sure."
Claire covers her face, mortified. "I'm gonna stop talking now."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that."
She tilts her head at his side profile like she's inspecting him. "You have a nice nose."
"I thought you were gonna stop talking."
"You do, though."
"Thanks."
"You have a Roman nose."
"Greek."
"But it looks Roman."
He doesn't know what this means. "Okay."
"You look like Hercules from the Disney movie." She pauses. "I hate mine."
"Your what?"
"My nooose."
"How come?"
"Pointy." She's absently poking her own nose now, pressing down on the tip so it becomes all upturned.
"It ain't pointy."
Claire goes cross eyed to stare at it, before hanging upside down from her couch with another giggle. Her bangs are all fluffed out, lacking the gravity to remain on her forehead. "It is."
Gray's stare is fixated on her mouth. His head is dizzy in the best way possible. It's so much tamer than a coke high, but not as numbing as any benzo.
She shuts her eyes.
"You're high, Blondie."
"You always say that when I say something dumb."
"No, like I mean it."
One eye flies open. "Huh?"
"Like, you're literally high."
The other eye follows. "Are you lying?"
"I'm not. At least, I think I'm not."
Claire stares back at the ceiling before panic mode sets in while she's upside down. "Ohhh, my gosh, what am I gonna tell Carter?!"
"… You're not?"
"He's gonna be so disappointed!"
"He doesn't give a fuck."
"Gray, I've never done drugs."
"We know."
"Ever. I was on an anti-drug committee in high school-"
"So I heard."
She shuts her eyes again, shaking her head. "I'm ruined. This is it for me. My life is out of control."
Ha.
"I'm gonna kill Kai."
"Gonna have to wait until next summer," Gray tells her.
Claire snaps her fingers, then brings them to her face. The moonlight illuminates her long eyelashes and translucent skin so beautifully. "Oh, gosh… is that why I feel so loopy?"
"Mhm."
"… Fudge."
"Hm?"
"Fork."
"… What."
"Firetruck."
"What are you doing?"
"Saying f words that aren't actually," she drops her voice low. "The f word. Fudgsicles."
Gray shakes his head and laughs at her. "You know what? This… this is the epitome of how friggin' lame you are. Like, only you high would ever be this uncool."
"… Fuck. Off."
And he actually widens his own eyes because is he tripping out? He never expected to hear her swear, not in his whole, entire life.
Claire grabs his arm and raises herself up, sniggering into the sleeve of it. "I said that one in my mind."
"… You fully did not."
She stares at him in shock again and almost starts to hyperventilate, because she believes that this is her one way ticket into hell. Then she says she feels sick. He thinks it's all because she swore, but then remembers that she accidentally consumed triple the amount of edibles that she should have.
She runs to her bathroom to vomit, and Gray has to hold her hair back, returning the favour of caretaking. She cries and apologizes, says that her head is spinning, that she feels like she's going to die, and he tries his very best to relax her. Yeah, he is fully never telling her about his drugs.
… Life with Claire is just never a dull moment.
"Hey, are you up?"
"Ugh," Gray mutters. "I am now."
Claire sits on the floor near him while he's asleep on her couch. She's just taken a much-needed shower, combing through her wet locks with nimble fingers. "Sorry I got so messed up last night."
He brings his hat over his face with a chuckle. "Not your fault you have zero tolerance for any kind of substances."
She chews her cheek, still having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that she tried weed. She knew it would be at the party, she tried not to be a prude about this… which is why she thought she was avoiding the brownies. And then she puked in front of him and he had to help her. Dear Lord, she's never passing any judgement on anyone ever again. She's just going to have to try and completely block this embarrassment from her memory. "Well, thanks for taking care of me."
"I owed you, Blondie," says Gray absently, like he's drifting off again. "You're solid, don't worry."
Claire gets up to sit down on the other side of the couch where his ankles are. She moves them over gently, clutching the television remote in her other hand. "Wanna chill out and watch Animaniacs?"
"I am chilling out, and I don't need cartoons for that."
"Oh, c'mon. You'll love it."
He does love it. He doesn't say so because he'll never be one to admit to anything, but he definitely does.
"I went to confession this morning," Claire tells him during the commercial break.
"Yeah? What'd Carter say."
"I think he was trying hard not to laugh about the circumcision joke."
"... You're somethin' else, Blondie."
Living with Gray isn't bad at all, not even in the slightest. It's interesting, sure: for starters, she's never lived with any kind of men before… ever, so it's different. She'd like to advocate that girls make way better roommates for girls, because they understand females better (obviously)… but she'd be lying if she said that she isn't having any fun.
Except last night. Last night was not fun… we're just not going to think about last night.
Gray is good to be around. He may be a self-proclaimed miserable shit, but she's so lucky to have him in her life. For starters, underneath that mean exterior, he really is kind and sweet. He hardly shows this side to anyone, sometimes not even to her, but she knows it's there and when it does come out, it's irrefutable. He's funny, with a sarcastic quick-wit that Claire wishes she had half of. He's sensitive too… c'mon now, don't laugh. She's being serious, he really can be at times. Once, he burned her spaghetti that she told him to keep an eye on after she went to help Ann with something, because he accidentally set the temperature 300 degrees hotter when he was trying to find her oven light, thus igniting dinner on fire inside. And then he ran to the supermarket and returned with Instant Ramen because he didn't know how to make anything else. She was initially pissed upon coming home, because there was smoke literally everywhere in her house, but it was a really thoughtful gesture looking back.
Y'know, could have all been avoided if he just stopped touching crap, but Claire digresses.
Lord though… Gray sure as hell does not come without his problems. Yeah, he's got good qualities, but she's curated a list of all the bad: he's rude, smug, cocky, snarky, freakin' clueless when it comes to women; and she knew all of this before, but it seems elevated now that they're living together. Plus he is so rough with everything that he does. He keeps knocking her newly-opened box of tampons over when he's grabbing the Q-Tips, he puts them back wrong, he's broken like, three glasses because he keeps accidentally catching stuff with his elbows, and he never does his laundry right. And don't even get her started on the fact that he's raised her showerhead higher because of how tall he is, and now when sheshowers, it's like she's waiting at the bottom of a damn waterfall.
The worst, the worst is probably his stubbornness though… and holy smokes, he is so pigheaded it freakin' hurts.
He's vulgar too; volatile, vexatious, and vulgar. Maybe it's her fault for not knowing… stuff, but gosh, does everything that he knows about have an Urban Dictionary counterpart?
"How can you not like vanilla?" Claire asks him one day. She pops her spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, savoring the flavour. The supermarket just restocked on Breyers, and no, it is never too cold to have ice cream. "It's the superior king of all flavours."
Gray makes a face. "It's literally not a flavour."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it's not. It's plain."
She points to his chocolate ice cream. "So, you're saying chocolate is better than vanilla."
"Of course it's better."
"But it's fully not. Vanilla is the base flavour for all other great flavours."
"No, it's shit." Gray shakes his head. "You're not selling me on this one, Blondie."
She shrugs. "You're just wrong then."
And then he removes his hat, arching his studded brow and leaning back in the chair. He's always so unphased and nonchalant, sometimes she wishes she could take a page out of his books. "I don't like vanilla nothing. Vanilla cookies, vanilla protein powder, vanilla sex-"
She stares at him. "What is vanilla sex?"
"Like, boring. Y'know, zero roughness, conventional, exclusively-missionary." He smirks at her blank reaction. "You don't even know what missionary is, do you?"
Claire scoffs, her cheeks red. "Of course I do."
"Really? What is it then."
"I don't have to tell you," she says, face burning.
"Ah-huh."
"And plus… I think there's a different definition of it from Boston to Chicago. Like, it doesn't uh, translate the same:"
He chuckles. "You know, there's nothing wrong with not knowing."
"Ugh, of course I know!"
She does not know.
Do you see what she means though?! Why is he so foul-mouthed, and why does he know so much more than her?
That's rhetorical, please don't answer it.
But they have fun together. She teaches him how to bake, he ruins the recipe; he helps her with a better fishing technique, she loses the worm. It's pretty much fifty-fifty. And the great thing is that they're not arguing.
Well, they are, but they're not fighting. He assists her with stuff on her farm that she needs help with, comes with her foraging, gets her a better deal on the things that they pawn off to Won, and she teaches this city snob how to tend to her animals, shearing her sheep or milking her cows. He explains to her how to play poker, even though she's obviously terrible at it, and she'll just jam out to the radio at night, dancing while cooking dinner as he sits by with his bass in hand, trying to match the chords or see if they can find any common ground on a song. They share stories of their past lives, and the world is so wonderful to have a best friend in.
But then sometimes, there's something that she can't quite place. Like, no matter how hard she tries, she cannot place it for the life of her.
Or, she just won't let herself place it.
"Blondie!"
Claire frowns, her thoughts interrupted by the sound of Gray's voice coming from her bathroom. "Huh?"
"C'mere."
Timidly, she walks over, standing on the opposite side of the closed door.
His head pokes out. He has soap suds all over his chest, down where she can only see his muscular pectoral. Nothing else is visible and jeez, thank God for that. The noise of the shower running elicits in her ears.
"I'm out of conditioner."
Claire picks a spot on her wall and keeps her eyes on that, face flushed. He's so shameless sometimes. "… Okay."
"Can I use yours?"
She finally stares at him incredulously. "That's why you called me? Jeez, I thought it was something important."
"This is important."
"Sure, whatever. Have fun smelling like a chick."
"My goal."
She pauses at the innuendo. "… You're an animal, Gray."
He grins, shutting the door.
She shakes her head, only to find her dog looking up at her all expectantly.
"What?!" Claire demands.
"So, why don't they do Christmas here?" she wonders, stepping into the supermarket with Gray.
"They used to. Some of 'em still do. But one night, when that bald shit was newly appointed mayor, he apparently had a dream he got laid by that… Goddess in the lake or something? Like, bareback-"
"Gray!" Claire exclaims, shushing him. Karen looks up from the cash register, playing on a GameBoy Advance and waving over at them. "That's terrible."
"I'm not kidding, I overheard Manna telling Sasha that. And in the 'Harvest Goddess deity tradition', they do a Starry Night Festival to appreciate all of the constellations in the sky. And Thomas was like, horny for that, and he changed it. I think he thinks if he does, his dream'll come true eventually, or whatever." Gray rolls his eyes, crouching down to pick up some Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the lower shelf. "Like, people here know what the regular holidays are, but they're just not celebrated."
"Weird," remarks Claire.
"Yeah, it is weird."
"We'll celebrate our own Christmas, then."
"Alright, Blondie," he says with a smile.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm not."
"You are," she scoffs.
"I'm not. You probably just have something stuck in your teeth."
"I hate you," Claire groans, making her way over to talk to Karen.
"What's the verdict?" Karen asks, looking up from her video game. It's Rick's Pokémon one that she hijacked. "You staying with Trent for the Starry Night Festival?"
Claire rolls her eyes, leaning against the shelf. "Duh. He's not coming back until the morning of, though."
Karen raises her brows. The little ding! sound that the bell makes to signify a customer entering the store chimes. "So, you're sleeping over?"
"Oh." Claire chews the inside of her cheek, standing up straight from the counter. "I… I dunno. I didn't think so."
"I mean, you guys are dating. I feel like that's what he's expecting." Karen shrugs. "You better ask him, but if you're not down to, don't sweat it."
Claire's head is swimming with this newfound proposition - how could this not have crossed her mind? These anxious thoughts all interrupted when she hears arguing behind her.
"Listen to me."
"Why don't you bite me, old man?"
"I need to talk to you," Saibara pleads in a hushed whisper. He tries reaching for his grandson, but Gray swats his hand away. "I've been holding off… but shit, son, you have to-"
"You can fuck off, alright?" snaps Gray, seething. "Because-"
"This is gonna end badly for you if-"
"What the hell? Who fights in a supermarket?" Karen demands, her voice booming across the store. "Knock it off or get out!"
And Gray shoots his grandfather a glare, nodding over at Claire to signify that he's getting the hell out of there.
Only he forgets to put back the Cinnamon Toast Crunch when he leaves, though.
"And the sonuvabitch just stole from us," says Karen incredulously. She stares at the swinging doors he's stormed out of.
Claire knows that when Gray's pissed to hell, he's searing and doesn't realize half the shit that's actually going on around him. She sighs, tossing Karen a few one-dollar bills. "Here."
"Make sure he pays you back!"
But Claire's not giving any attention to this; she's watching as Saibara does his best to look everywhere except at her. She gives him a gentle and sad wave, and for a brief moment, he looks up, before tearing his eyes away, exiting the store.
No, seriously, what is going on in her life?
Claire returns home, only to find Gray laying back on her couch, his nose buried in a library book. "Thanks for leaving me with the tab."
He looks up, ready to argue, but just sighs. "Sorry. I honestly wasn't thinking."
"Yeah, I know."
"My wallet's over there… take a five out. Actually, take whatever, I don't care. I owe you way more for everything."
"I don't care about the money." Claire sits on the end of the couch. "What just happened?"
"My grandfather came lookin' for me."
"Yeah, but why?"
"Fuck if I know. Why do you care?"
She shakes her head. "Gray… what was your fight about?"
He stares at her with those icy blue eyes, returning them back to his novel. "Nothing you'd ever understand."
