Hello, wall.

Waynesboro, TN | Open

Clint raised an eyebrow at her sudden need for a false name to hide behind, but then he reminded himself that she was on the run. Shaking his head, he told her “I don’t have any painkillers, but.” He unzipped his duffle bag and pulled the neck of a bottle of whiskey (half-drunk) out of his bag to show her before tucking it back in. “I have that and sweetheart you look like you could use it.” he smirked at her and went back to antagonizing the poor teen at the counter, barking orders at him and giving him an unimpressed look when he finally held up two keys for the same room.

There was only one available and Clint shrugged at that. He could always sleep on the floor if there was only one bed. As long as there was a roof over his head, because as he looked out the window it looked that rain was almost certain. The kid showed them to the room, fighting with the door before Clint got fed up and did it himself, jerking the door open with a gruff professionalism. The room was just as B-Movie Horror Film as the lobby had been. The floors creaked slightly, the fixtures were covered in a slight grimy rust, hard water stains and scum in the tub and sinks. Cobwebs covered the walls, there was a heavy stench of cigarette smoke and something Clint was pretty sure was urine in the air. The walls were thin, he could detect the sounds of someone turning a trick in a room somewhere to the left. He gave a click of his tongue in disgust and threw his bag to the ground next to the door. “Like I said before.” he said to Allison. “Fucking five stars, this place is.” he closed the door on the kid, letting him get back to his nap at the desk, and observed the room.

When she gave it some thought, Alison decided that a strong drink would likely suit her better in the current predicament, though she had never been a drinker of the sorts. Her smile of gratitude had lingered as Clint gave his commands like the soldier he was, and she may have held more sympathy for the boy behind the desk had it not been so long since she had last slept. Apparently, exhaustion rendered her void of most kindliness toward strangers, though Clint had seemingly been an exception thus far, given that she was agreeing to share a room with him for the night.

The room, rather unfortunately, lived up to the standards of the lobby and no further, which did absolutely nothing for her state of mind. It was all she could do to blink tiredly around the indecent space as she cast her bag aside. Perhaps she could have maintained the pretence that the room was not quite so bad as one might initially think, had the stench not percolated in her direction several moments after crossing the threshold.

Her eyes widened and lips tightened reflexively, before a heavy pink flooded to her cheeks upon hearing the activities of the guests next door. At this rate, she would not be getting much sleep tonight, either.

"I've seen jail cells homier than this," she told him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and jumping immediately back up in alarm when the springs screeched. "You know what, my good man? I'll take the floor. I'm a restless sleeper, and that noise is ungodly."

#captainmacstravik

ihaveyouripaddress started following you

He laughed at the kitten comment, but hoped that she hadn’t had experience in that area.

“Yes, well. I do have to say that I’m not very fond of dogs. I do have two children, though one is grown now.” He flicked his hand, “Though he shouldn’t be. That’s also a long story.”

"Ah, the old 'aging too much too soon' quandary? Or is it just a parent thing? You're not allowed to grow up because you're my child."

Alison shrugged her shoulders absently and offered him a look which was halfway between apologetic and sheepish. "Of course, I don't know anything. I'm not a mother, and likely never will be."

#stolenyouridentity

Waynesboro, TN | Open

Clint glanced over at the women as well, a low flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he too slung his bag over his shoulder and handed something to the waitress. He offered quietly to help her with the dishes, but was instead shooed out. He found himself back in the cool night air, and automatically looked up at the stars with a satisfied sigh. Then, looking to his side, he smiled at his newfound traveling companion. “Alright, let’s move out.” He said. Thinking about it as he moved down the road to the motel he realized how very military it had sounded, even a tinge of his old commanding bark in it, though that was well hidden behind the self-teasing.

The soldier sighed, this time less satisfied, as he saw the hotel. It wasn’t very nice of a hotel, but it would do. Like he said, he had slept in worse places. A bus in Israel had been a particularly thrilling experience, as had been the time his men had thought it would be funny to dump him on a pile of fire ants. He hadn’t woken up. Opening the door to the hotel and rousing the greasy haired teen that was ‘manning’ the front desk, he went about getting a hotel room, though the service was unbearably slow, and the kid didn’t really even know how to do his job. Leaning on the counter, Clint rolled his eyes in the direction of Alison. “Best damn service in Tennessee.” He drawled sarcastically, as the kid fumbled about.

#[I tried so hard #and got so far #in the end #it doesn't even matter because JESUS WHAT EVEN IS WRITING]#captainmacstravik

Alison squinted around what she believed was supposed to serve as the front lobby, eyes roaming and halting every so often upon dusty and decrepit artefacts that may have once been sofas and potted plants in their prime. Unfortunately, any attempt for homeliness or comfort had been entirely wasted on the place, and it looked more like an ironic set of a horror film. No matter, she decided to ignore the scarce amenities she was certain it had to offer, and cast a bright smile in the direction of the adolescent behind the desk.

She barely suppressed a chuckle at Clint's words, opting for a quick bow of her head to hide the grin tugging at her lips. Alison was typically in no position to be questioning the competence of others, but it a long while had passed since she had last been graced with a good laugh.

A sober look crossed her face when she was asked for her name, and she spared a hasty sideways glance toward Clint before replying, "Evelyn. Evelyn ... Evans."

No two seconds later had she closed her eyes in disbelief at her own lack of creativity, rubbing her temples to be rid of an ache that was not there; it was in spite of this that she asked Clint, "I don't suppose you happen to be carrying any painkillers, do you?"

[300% done with real life. Hello again, Tumblr roleplaying world.]

#OOC #[A plethora of problems I'd like to ignore]

ihaveyouripaddress started following you

He shook his head a little. “Oh, no. She left because she was insane and ran off with our ex-boyfriend.” He shrugged his shoulders, “It was a bit of a mess.” He nodded as she explained, “I see. It does seem mutual. However, I could not go without human companionship.”

"I'd say a little less messy, a little more kittens in a tumble-dryer." She paused, thoughtful, then asked, "I'd imagine that maintaining amiable contact with an ex would be difficult enough without, you know, a third party."

With an idle shrug of her shoulders, she gave a sigh. "Well, there are plenty of wonderful substitutes. You could get a dog. They're basically hairy humans on four legs, but without the deception. And they wag their tails when they're happy. Humans just wag their tongues."

#stolenyouridentity

Waynesboro, TN | Open

That wasn’t creepy. At all. Clint’s face showed that he was slightly perturbed not really by her answer, but more the way she had delivered the almost grave statement. When she went on to say she hadn’t killed anyone he simply raised an eyebrow at her.

He let her speak her piece, knowing he wouldn’t get anything other than what she decided to tell him out of her. He wasn’t one to pry, really, just get a general feel for whoever he was talking to. He calmly ate the last of his meal, already done with it, and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, one leg over the other, a scrutinizing gaze trained on the girl.

“Well whatever the fuck you did it must have been twisted, sister.” He said bluntly after a long, pregnant silence. “But I think the hotel will be alright. Never been one I can’t handle.” He’d lived in the Middle East for 10 years, often on cots with bugs swarming around him. He’d learnt to camp with the creepy crawlies when he was only a lad, not even five yet. Bugs didn’t bother him. Except centipeds. Those things were creepy as all hell. “When you’re done we’ll go over.” he smiled. “Can’t have any Pulp Fiction shit happen to a pretty lady such as yourself.” he yawned.

#[My writing is decreasing in quality and I do apologise for that #I thought taking a break would help me recharge ye old creative energy #Apparently not]#captainmacstravik

Alison gave a derisive snort and continued to drink her coffee. Whilst she was in no position to argue that she was anything other than mayhap a trifle twisted, it seemed to her that the "Pulp Fiction shit" had already begun with the chase around Manhattan. It was the single time in her life when she had even been remotely pleased to be surrounded by such a large amalgamation of people; one as small as she was could make a quick escape.

Upon drinking down the last of the coffee she returned her attention to the sandwich, then halted when she caught sight of the waitress who had allowed them in, glaring at them from behind the counter and tapping her watch impatiently. A feeling of guilt turned in her stomach, as she realised that the woman would likely be in trouble with the manager for serving them after closing hours.

"I can finish this on the way," she told Clint, standing to her feet. "It would appear that we've overstayed our welcome." Collecting her belongings from the floor, she cast an apologetic look over to the waitress. "Thank you. Here's a--ah--tip for your trouble."

Thereafter she headed for the door, and waited for Clint to join her.

Waynesboro, TN | Open

Clint noticed her blush, and realized how blunt his last statement had been, and how that might effect a girl traveling alone. Sometimes he simply didn’t think that what he said could actually effect people. The soldier looked away uncomfortably as she spoke, his face emotionless enough that it didn’t actually show his embarrassment except for perhaps a low flush. Hopefully she would take that as the coffee heating him up.

Her words didn’t make sense to him at first. She hadn’t planned well? Clint himself didn’t actually plan, just showed up with his passport, military ID, and his duffle bag and picked an arbitrary destination. Yet the way she explained it…it sounded like she had left in a hurry. Running away from something. Or someone, he couldn’t rule out some sort of failed relationship or the police. He knew nothing of the woman across from him. Swallowing, he asked “You ran away?”

He watched her cough, taking another large bite of sandwich, and nodded his emphatic agreement. Knowing she probably didn’t want to see a mouth full of masticated food-stuffs, he waited a moment before adding with a smile “Hope they have two. My car’s several states away.”

#captainmacstravik #[Sorry #the Christmas holidays are already taking their toll]

Alison pondered a reply for several moments, unable to muster words which would perhaps serve as both beguiling and truthful; it seemed impossible, and she was certain that no oxymoron would scrape past the observations of a soldier, for as tired as he appeared, he was undoubtedly attentive in each and every waking state. Instead, she offered him a smile -- a smile to preach a bright and amiable innocence in light of what she was going to say.

"When one makes a grave error of judgement," she began, "one must sometimes do their best to avoid any austere consequences."

It all sounded very sinister, in fact, made only more so by the smile she dearly hoped would not unsettle the man opposite her. So as not to risk fostering any other potential belief that Alison was deluded or homicidal, she amended, "For the record, I didn't kill anyone. Nonetheless, I would very much appreciate some discretion on your part. If you are ever approached by anyone who happens to look as though they've just stepped out of a Tarantino film, I wouldn't recommend that you say anything about Alison Munro, should they ask."

She paused, taking a few solid bites out of her sandwich before looking back up at Clint with a small smile, and saying, "I do hope this motel is a sight better than the last I had to stay in. There are only so many cockroaches you can have crawling on the bathroom floor before you begin to question the credibility of the last health inspector to visit the place."

ka-sh-mir

Waynesboro, TN | Open

England, well that wasn’t too much of a shock. Clint couldn’t really identify accents very well, but he could at least determine when someone had one. Alison at least hadn’t sounded any sort of American to him, but he wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint her as from England in a thousand years, even though he had been to her home country before. “I liked England.” he simply commented, feeling a swell of patriotic pride as she complimented the country he had fought so long for.

Before he could respond to Alison, the waitress came back with their food, both sandwiches with a side of fries. He was surprised at how quickly their food had arrived, but then again they were the only two there and not only were sandwiches easy to make, the woman probably wanted to get them out of there as quickly as she possibly could. He thanked her politely, as she set the rather large sandwich in front of him with the rather loud click of crockery on table. It looked to be a simple club sandwich, with the vegetative works placed to the side. As Clint began to assemble his food, he nodded at the woman across from him.

“I started out going to London. Then was Paris, Dublin, Berlin, Nepal, Winnipeg, New York, Hong Kong, LA, Israel, Panama and now here.” He finished his rather impressive list of where he had been in the last year and with a satisfied nod, took a rather large bite of his food. Clint wasn’t a sloppy eater, nor was he overly neat. Meals were always finished quickly for him, and his mother had always joked that he didn’t even taste the food he ate, simply devoured it. Mostly that was true. In between his first and second bite he took a sip of his coffee and told Alison “I’m surprised you haven’t been around more. You look…like shit, to be honest.”

#[HAHAHA #Clint is perfect]#captainmacstravik

Alison was so entirely bewildered by the extent of his travels that she nearly missed his evaluation of her appearance. Though, when she recovered she rather wished she had not, and could feel the pink which flooded her cheeks. Within an instant she had turned her head, emitting a nervous chuckle; she hardly disagreed with him, and she doubted that he had intended any offence, but could not dissuade that same inexorable feeling of inadequacy.

"There was no, er, planning involved," she admitted, shifting to face him once more. "In retrospect, I should have taken more of my things with me, or perhaps taken a moment to ... well, think." She began to pick at the bread of her own sandwich, raising the peppered crumbs to her lips. "I don't have a car, or a passport. Yes, I look like shit, but I can't complain."

Oh, yes, you can, said a haughty voice in her head, and she quickly grabbed her mug of coffee once more in the hope of stifling her irate inner conscious. The drink scolded her throat, and a pained cough seared through her lips as she set the mug down atop the table once more. A moment later, her smile had returned, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I can sort myself out at the motel down the road. Cold water is better than no water, after all." Alison paused, then, squinting at nothing in particular. "I hope they have a vacancy."

Waynesboro, TN | Open

Clint had taken a long drink of his coffee as well, feeling the warmth trickle down his parched throat and fill his empty belly. The energy and heat radiated throughout his body and as Alison said, he did feel more awake. More awake to appreciate how absolutely ridden hard and put away wet the woman looked. How long had she been traveling, he wondered, looking at her over the mug he had wrapped his large calloused hands around protectively as it was currently his lifeline to awareness.

She began speaking in response to his question, and Clint wasn’t sure if it was his limited and specialized education or his lack of sleep that made it sound like absolute gibberish. Was she talking about riding an elderly person like a horse? The image flashed in his mind of his horses at home, all replaced with the older folk of his town, contentedly munching on oats and saddled with western regalia, waiting to be ridden.

His face didn’t show his confusion, remaining quite still and stoic, but there was a flare of absolute incomprehension in his blue eyes that would clue any observer into his state of mind. The soldier shook his head, letting out a single soft chuckle, taking the easy course and saying nothing in response, not even sure if he should laugh or not.

“Colorado.” he replied after another generous sip of the bitter black brew. “And where do you come from, Alison?” He repeated her name simply so he wouldn’t forget it. “Before you started traveling around the country like Forrest Gump.” he gave a small smile.

deactivatedfierylittlesera-blog

Colorado, she mused to herself. You're quite far from home then, my friend. It was all Alison could do, to remain wary of his travels; hypocrisy was a bane, and a terrible one at that, though she could see only one of two options as to the reasons behind his journey: wanderlust, or something to run from. Only, he was far more casual about his travels than she was, herself; his manner and appearance quite generally emanated some knowledge of what he was doing.

"England," she told him, wearing a small smile. Forrest Gump. She was amused by the analogy -- Alison's life was most certainly nothing like a box of chocolates. "I was living in London, but ended up in New York on a business trip. Became rather attracted to the idea of ... wandering around. Lovely country, this America of yours. I haven't seen much of the world, you see."

Alison observed him, then, with her own mug of coffee raised to closed lips. Clint was tall, as she had registered upon his initial entrance, and well-built, which she could only assume was as a result of hiking across the country, perhaps further. A moment later, that deduction was entirely shaken from her, consequent to the silver which hung around his neck reflecting the light into her eyes, and though it were true that many individuals wore dog-tags for divergent purposes it seemed suiting that Clint would serve in the armed forces. And what better way to cast the demons of war aside?

"So, you've been all over, then," she amended, rather than bringing her observation to his attention. "Farther than I have, one would assume."

#captainmacstravik

Sera smiled. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Your hair is gorgeous.” She laughed. “And what should this committee be called? I’m Serafina, by the way.” An amused smile made it’s way onto her face.

"Well, I thank you for that," she said, bowing her head in gratitude. "As for a name, it may as well be a good pun. 'Red hair-ring'. Yes. No, that's terrible." Alison shook her head, chuckling. "Serafina? I've not heard that before; it's quite lovely. My name is Alison."

#fierylittlesera

"I think you and I are going to be really good friends Allison" Selena said with a smile on her face "You're really cool and those who have you as friends are really lucky, hopefully one day I'll be lucky enough to call you a close friend." Selena felt happy to finally find someone who didn't want her for her fame, or someone who wasn't going to judge her for her actions, just someone who was willing to be nice and treat her like a normal person. And that feeling felt, well great!

"Well, I'm glad to hear it!" she exclaimed, bowing her head. "Truly, I appreciate it, Selena. It's lovely to meet someone who near-instantly develops a high opinion of you; too many unmet expectations, on my end. In any case, I'll be happy to be of assistance, should you ever need a moron with no sense of the appropriate to watch The Empire Strikes Back with on a Friday night."

"Wow" she said surprised at what Allison had said "Thanks I don't think anyone has ever said something like that about people like me, they mostly think that we have life easy or just want to be friends because we have money and other things"

"Yes, I'm certain that it's very easy, working an egregious number of hours, performing comprehensive dialogue with the passion of an independent character, and enduring public criticism of your conduct." Alison rolled her eyes, though her smile remained. "And I wouldn't worry yourself about those who wriggle their way into your life for the money; when push comes to shove, they'll skedaddle without a second thought."

"Well kids weren't always the nicest to me while growing up" she admitted "calling me names and insulting me in every way they thought possible" She didn't like talking about that time in her life, but she felt like with Allison she could poor her heart out. "Not many people respect you when you begin as a child actor"

"And what exactly is it that they're doing for themselves, now? My best guess is gutting les poissons at the local fishery," she joked, folding her arms across her chest. "As far as respect goes, I would feel far more of it for an individual who persevered and achieved what they wanted out of life, rather than the people who attempt to hinder those who do."

"Yea" she said "I was a very busy child, so I didn't really have much friends, between going to tv auditions and going to school." She wasn't sure if it was alright to tell this complete stranger about her whole life, but something inside of her told her that Alison was going to be a better ally than an enemy. Not only that but she didn't really like having enemies.

"Ah, you're a television actress?" She offered a smile of encouragement. "You'll have to forgive me, Selena -- I don't watch much television, but I can admire you for being able to establish yourself in the industry, especially at your age. It must have been a delicate situation for you; kids are cruel, particularly so when it comes to having a successful peer."