Whispering: Word of something my muse didn't want getting out has come out to light, your muse comforts them.
Alice bumped the button on her phone to make it sleep, then hit it again to wake it back up. Unlocked it. Read the text again. Bumped the button. Repeat.
It was all too strange and unbelievable and terrible and wonderful at once. She felt bad for him. Really, truly she did. But there was finally...
A connection.
Finally. A similarity. One she had been looking for ever since he stepped into the padded room those years ago. Not to Wonderland, but to her. A dose of crazy behind a pretty face brought to light by the media.
[text: Crane-o-ween] I'm home. The door's unlocked. Just let yourself in.
She set her phone on the coffee table before running to her room and gathering up all her extracurriculars into a box and locking it. Now would not be the time to let him know she was settling back into what she considered a minor relapse. She considered keeping the hookah on her bedside table for a moment before shaking her head and shoving it under her bed. No chance he would approve, whether what she smoked were legal or not.
She heard the door creak open; it was abnormally loud as if he were opening it as slow as he possibly could. She hustled back to the living room, muttering apologies of the apartment being a mess and other things she figured most people would say when they had guests.
He looked pale. His eyes were puffy and red, and if she didn't know better she would have guessed he was crying. But Doctors didn't cry, especially not Crane. Right?
"They know..." That was all he managed to get out before shrugging helplessly. Alice's lips trembled a little before she decided to take his hand and lead him to the couch.
She didn't know what to say. There was really nothing to say. His career was likely over. No one wants to employ crazies. So, instead, she reached out to him the only way she knew how. Her arms circled his thin frame and held him close. Her lips may have brushed against his forehead, but she couldn't remember for sure. His arms may have embraced her back, but then again maybe it was just the way they were sitting so that if felt like he returned what she offered.
Words weren't needed. Words had already done enough damage.
