starter for finley — @finleymartin !
She wonders if it’s healthy, to not want to let go yet. Probably not, but she doesn’t necessarily know if she’s supposed to have a healthy response to something like this. What good response is there to your family’s livelihood being taken over by JojaMart? Maybe it’s not sitting on the floor of the empty general store cross legged with bottles of wine you’d been unable to sell in front of you because it’s the only alcohol you sold, and you certainly aren’t going to go to JojaMart for anything — but even if that’s not the right thing, it’s what Jillian’s doing. She’s so deep in thought, so deep in angry, frustrated moping, that she doesn’t think about a text sent. To: Finley — You need to pick up your paycheck. Store sometime today, or just find me tomorrow. I’ll be around. So when the door opens unexpectedly, and she hears footsteps, she snaps almost immediately, head jerking to the side to see who the perpetrator was: “ We’re obviously not fucking open. ”
And then she sees who she is and it’s a sheepish reaction, but not an apologetic reaction — if anyone would understand, anyone outside of the Mercer family, it’ll be Finley. They lost their job too, she knows, and even if it isn’t the loss of a home, the feeling of an existence in the Valley in peril ... it has to still sting. She knows it does, so she just says, “ Oh. Hi. ” and reaches next to her for the envelope, not even standing as she tries to pass it up to them. She’s filled with something almost unfamiliar – very, unfamiliar, in fact. She almost always wants to be alone, to wallow in misery, and she realises right now, she doesn’t. So instead of shoving the envelope closer towards Finley, Jillian nudges the wine bottle and says, almost wryly, “ you’re welcome to help yourself. ” The Mercers are supposed to lock the doors of the general store tomorrow. It’s last hurrah, almost, even though that thought rings as hollow as her voice does against empty walls and broken down shelving units. “ It’s not a bonfire on the beach, but ... ” Unspoken: it’s something.










