scarecrow man

“We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it's...

[rogue-mimic]

Charlie couldn’t muffle the slight surprise on her face, contorting her features along with the amusement she feels at Eli’s comment. She doesn’t take his words seriously, although it has less to do with self-deprecation and more to do with the fact they usually joke around each other. But there had been that strange morning after period, which hadn’t felt all that peculiar and perhaps that had something to do with the pounding of a hangover at the front of her skull, like her brain just might try and escape.

Still, there’s something like pride that straightens her spine, even if it’s childish and unwarranted. But if she believes that Eli might have a lengthy list of women he could deem drunken mistakes and one night stands, perhaps she’s fortunate to be one he remembers, and that probably has more to do with their friendship.

"Fuck you," she comments through her smile, the only thing she manages to say and perhaps she’s a bit speechless, because the first remarks that had crossed her mind she wouldn’t feel comfortable saying, even sarcastically. Like if her wild mane of red hair in the morning could be considered cute, then he hadn’t bothered to look at the mess of his own hair in the mirror, jet black locks in some organized chaos that made it look like he’d done it on purpose. Asshole.

Biting down a joke that could land them somewhere precarious given their track record, Charlie ignores his comment about his own pants and swallows the large bite of pizza she had broken off to smother her smile with. “I will reach down your throat and take this pizza back. We’re watching Commando first,” Charlie threatens before grabbing the DVD and tossing it into Eli’s lap with a smug grin, just to annoy him.

[tragicflxws]

There's a small laugh at her only answer, and if she thought it was sarcasm then he doesn't correct her. It wasn't, but anything more than that is too sincere. And there's no desire to lead her on, to make her think he wants this to go any farther than it already did. At some point he realized he liked having her as a friend, and it's no mystery at what point he decided he liked fucking her. Anything more complicated seems like it would just ruin both.

"Alright, but you should probably shut the door first." His head tilts, following the direction of his words as though the thought alone will summon his warden. And while she's not breathing down his neck, he thinks a shut door would probably draw her more than an open one, and that's raised too many teenagers to hesitate on barging right in. It effectively crushes any real contemplation of trying to earn himself a repeat of that night.

He sits back, finishing the rest of his piece before wiping his hands off on his jeans. Though there's an odd sort of pride there, that he has more of an appetite now than he did when he met her. It makes it easier to remind himself how hollowed out he'd become, to convince himself it's not worth it just for a quick fix.

It tastes like less of a lie today. If it's partially due to her presence, he doesn't protest it. It's still better to convince himself of that, that he's more human and more worthwhile than when he's high.

"That's disgusting. Also a waste of pizza." He makes a face at her before he's swinging his legs off the bed, holding up the movie she tossed at him as he heads for the TV. It's small and used, but it's still another thing that belongs to him, which probably says something. "You know there's no robots in Commando, right?"

[rogue-mimic]

A smirk tugs at Charlie’s lips as her eyes scan the layer of stubble along his jaw that already tells her Eli hadn’t bothered to shave before he even admits to doing something else. “Way to put little effort into your appearance for me. Shit, at least I put a little bit of make up on for your sake. You’re welcome,” she states dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm, a common tone around Eli but if she thought for a moment it bothered him, she might temper it. Or hang around him less. Instead, she believes it’s one of the reasons they get along. East coast assholes, and the phrase makes her smile, like some strange term of endearment. But his sense of humor’s too close to home for her not to gravitate towards it like a moth trapped by the light.

Leaning over, she wiggles a slice of pizza carefully away from the rest of the pie before capturing the end between her teeth and ripping off a large portion, her stomach grumbling to remind her there’s room inside of it where the lunch she should’ve eaten earlier was supposed to go. “Pulled together a mediocre Arnie collection and bought pizza,” she tells him, obvious facts as there’s evidence of it on her bed, “Before that, cleaned up my apartment a bit and actually put a bit of effort into my appearance to hang out with a friend.” She couldn’t help but tease him, arm shoving his side lightly, because there’s still a small reminder of just how fragile he had felt in her arms when she’d walked into the middle of his detox like she’d been wandering through the aftermath of an atomic bomb that had hit a once populated city.

She munches happily on the slice in her hand before groaning as she reaches for the plastic bag carrying a few DVDs, and she dumps the contents onto the mattress haphazardly. “We’re watching Commando first,” she instructs him, “You’re not allowed to argue.”

[tragicflxws]

There's a shrug of his shoulders, answering smirk on his lips for the sarcastic words. There's something familiar and probably too comfortable about the abrasiveness offered his way. But it helps that most of the company he has either falls under the category of kids or Jay. And if he'll still call him his best friend, that just means he'll be the first to admit that the man needs to loosen up, or get laid. Probably both.

"I guess. You look good with bedhead." And if his smile's a little bit wider it's because he knows that first hand. Though it feels far removed from where he sits now, and she's covered in layers of clothing that only enforce that separation. There's a thought that follows it that he's only seen her a handful of times since then, and this is about the best shape he's been in. He spent Christmas decomposing on his bathroom floor. Some days he thinks he's still there, or that this is just some temporary break in sobriety. Maybe they're all right about him, and the second he gets set free he'll just end up with a needle in his arm again.

It's easier to push the thoughts out of his head now, her arm shoving him lightly in the shoulder. And if human contact is some daunting thing for her, it just makes him appreciate it for what it is. "I put pants on. So we're even."

He grins before shoving more pizza in his mouth and going through the collection she brought over. There's not much in it he would argue, because cheesy action films have always been more his style. But he can't help it when she tells him not to, glancing up with as much mock disappointment as he can manage. "But I wanted Terminator."

[rogue-mimic]

"Oh," Charlie states quickly at Eli’s reaction as the box is taken from her grasp, which her warm hand is now grateful for. Her lips stay formed to the shape of the vowel as her eyes blink slowly before she licks her lips to reprimand Eli sarcastically, "Not a ‘thank you for the pizza, Charlie’? ‘God, you’re so nice, Charlie?’ ‘Wow, what a great friend for bringing pizza and movies starring the greatest actor of our time: Arnold Schwarzenegger’? You could be allergic to peppers or some shit. I don’t know. Just eat your damn pizza. Christ."

There’s a shake of Charlie’s head, red locks falling around her shoulders as she laughs and she thinks she catches a small smirk from Eileen out of the corner of her eye. But that might be too much to hope. After a quick instruction that the door is to be left open, and there’s the distinct reminder of being a teenager again, the woman leaves the two of them in Eli’s room. And maybe the woman trusts her more when she’s a little more put together than the first time she met her, a light splash of make up upon her face and clothing more presentable. A little less hungover and a little more denim. And if the jeans on her legs and the layers of a tanktop and a long sleeve shirt are to gain points with Eileen, it’s also to keep her skin covered.

Some days spark more confidence than others in her abilities, but it still strikes her that she has little control over what she can do, especially when she’s angry. Which, around Eli, had been known to happen.

Tossing the small, plastic bag onto the bed, the plastic cases of DVDs clattering together, Charlie falls lazily onto Eli’s bed, palms pillowing her fall and keeping her upright. And if she’s too familiar with a space she had never been in, she’ll blame Eli for it, as she had become to accustomed to his friendship now and that’s what had her knocking on Eileen’s door. Perhaps there is some sympathy there, something she thinks Eli wouldn’t want her to confess aloud, but she doesn’t think that’s what fuels her acceptance of invitations to hang out with him. They get along, mostly. And he makes her laugh. It’s a decent friendship, enjoyable at least. And if she’s still grateful for the help he’s given her with her power, and it’s more than he probably believes, she’d still sit here in this room without that feeling.

"So, what’d you do today?" she questions kindly, legs dangling off the edge of the bed as she watches the pizza box that should probably contain a meal with more edible toppings on it.

[tragicflxws]

"What? It was implied." There's a snort of amusement, but he doesn't take the reprimand any kind of seriously. Anyone else, he might, but then if it was someone else he might've greeted the door with a little more tact. As it is, their ideas of humor have always fallen too closely together for him to worry about it, and he doesn't doubt that if she was really annoyed by him she'd let him know. He thinks there's only one time she tempered it for him, and it was when he was trying to convince her to let him out of his apartment so he could go score. 

He feels farther removed from that man today, even if some days he still feels less than human. Sometimes he has to call Jay just to hear that this will fade, that eventually he'll wake up and he won't think about getting high sixty times a day. That it'll fade to three or four, and then maybe three or four times a week. 

Eileen leaves them alone, and despite whatever he thinks of his own progress, he thinks that's about all the trust she'll offer him. And he wonders if she searched the bag Charlie brought before she even let him in here, but he doesn't ask. He just watches her make herself comfortable before he settles on the end of it. The box gets put next to him, already dragging out a piece to shove in his mouth before he starts pulling at the bag. 

"Slept. Thought about shaving." He says it between a mouthful of food before he tilts his chin back, nails scratching at the thick layer of stubble that's a good enough illustration of  how that went. And if it's funny to him now, there are some days when he didn't want to get out of bed to even do that much. That if his redheaded warden hadn't made him, he probably wouldn't have. "Watched cartoons instead. You?"

[rogue-mimic]

Eli invited her to Eileen’s, and perhaps that’s the reason for the cross look upon the middle-aged woman’s face as she holds the door open. She probably still doesn’t trust Charlie, and the redhead couldn’t blame the woman, even if there’s a defensive binding of her throat at the thought she looks like some stressed out addict. It isn’t her fault she comes from Irish heritage, a cruel trait to posses in the Vegas summer sun.

Her lips split into a wide grin to greet the irritated woman, hips hugging the door frame to bar access to her home. At least these kids are probably safe under this roof. No one could get past this bear of a woman. She’d rip their throat out if the cold glare of her eyes doesn’t turn her victims to stone first. “Hi,” Charlie states quickly, loudly, and awkwardly. The woman’s eyes roll into their sockets before she stands to the side and allows the young woman outside access to her house.

Stepping into the living room, there’s a particularly warm feeling about the space. It’s well-lived in, the furniture aged from wear and tear of children probably bouncing upon its springs. The walls are covered in photographs, not an empty space upon the table surfaces covered in smiling faces, reminding Charlie this woman has raised a small village of children, and there’s some respect for that, even if Eileen probably thinks she’s smuggling drugs in the bag of DVDs in her hand. Perhaps she’ll check to see if there’s mushrooms on the pizza scalding Charlie’s hand through the cardboard box and there’s a distant smile at the thought she shouldn’t have ordered plain just to mess with the woman.

Eileen guides her down the hall, quiet steps from the woman, surprisingly so considering how strong her presence is, like you could feel her taking up the space before you saw her. And it’s almost funny that such a short woman could appear so intimidating. Her knuckles rap against the door, the wood around the hinges damaged as if she’d been used to removing this barrier. Perhaps it’s from unruly teenagers. Maybe Eli’s been acting up.

"You have a visitor," the small redhead states bluntly, her disdain obvious in her voice and Charlie mashes her lips together to hide the smile. Even if she’s amused, she’s still terrified.

[tragicflxws]

Eli thought sobriety would be treating him better if he had a little more to occupy his time. Granted, Eileen didn't allow him to sit and sulk for long, babysitting duty falling on his shoulders more often than not. Even if he typically had one of his own. But whatever chores and domestic duties she left on his hands, it only did so much to distract him when that itch started under his veins, and it didn't take more than a stray thought to set him off. 

Still, he had almost a month under his belt now, and that had to count for something. Enough that maybe he could leave soon, and it's not ungratefulness that summons the thought. Just a natural stubbornness and degree of independence that makes him resent the idea that he's living here on someone else's whims with someone else's rules. And they've clashed on those multiple times since Jay dropped him off, because his mood's always been an unstable thing, only made worse by the absence of a fix to even him out. And if some days there's bitterness there that his warden has such a firm hand, other days there's something closer to gratitude. 

But while the room's a borrowed space, he can't pretend it doesn't feel more personal than the apartment he vacated before this. There's a record player that Jay brought for him, probably to keep his mind off the constellation of scars that on his worst days he'd like to add to.

The knock on his door doesn't surprise him, rolling to his feet before pulling it open. "Thanks warden." He flashes a smile, the words less bitter than they would've been two weeks ago. And his attention shifts to Charlie after that, some part of him honestly surprised she's here. He doesn't know that he would be, in her position, but if it's gratitude he feels, he doesn't voice it. 

He just takes the pizza from her, tugging the lid open to see what's on it before he makes a face. "Plain? What kind of Ninja Turtle are you?"

[rogue-mimic]

The corner of her nose crinkles in delight as she laughs quietly, a typical tell for Charlie’s amusement. She nods her head slowly in understanding, licking the smile off her lips as she shifts the basket to dangle from her clasped hands. “Looking forward to it. They’ll entertain me through the Notebook,” she informs him, and if that’s some subtle request he spark some text conversation today, she wouldn’t admit to that.

"My Arnie films are lacking," she tells him honestly upon a forced, forlorn sigh, "But I have a few to add. If you’re up for some 80s, greasy and naked Arnie action." And who wouldn’t be, she thinks to herself, and she’s aware she only enjoys these films because they’re mostly terrible. But there’s always some enjoyment in watching them with others, where it’s a collective effort to mock the script writing, or lack thereof.

If the conversation is suddenly awkward, Charlie blames their drunken night together, which shouldn’t make it feel tense. She had been drunk. They fucked on her table. The end. She doesn’t want more from him. More means mess, and Eli probably comes with more mess than most individuals do. It’d be ideal to keep up some sexually intimate relationship without any ties, but fuck buddies never just stay fuck buddies.

And Eli is trouble, even without the drug addiction. He’s the boy every girl is warned about, the one that will tear straight through a line of women til he gets to his destination. And while he’ll walk away whole and unbroken, she’ll be shredded in his wake. Some strange determination has always guarded Charlie from that, from being the one left behind, brokenhearted. She breaks hearts. Her’s is always intact.

Still, she smiles and nods her head once. “Will do,” she tells him, pulling the basket up to cradle it in the crook of her arm, “Been working a shit ton recently, but maybe my next day off? We’ll figure it out.”

[tragicflxws]

That sparks another laugh in him, one that turns to a cough in a moment. Some byproduct of what he's done to himself, and he's aware that he's weaker than he used to be in a lot of ways. And maybe that alone should be motivation enough for him to quit, but any self-awareness just how bad he is was always something easily drowned by another hit. He brings his fist to his mouth to stop it, vaguely aware of the fingers gripping his other hand tighter, like that'll make it stop. 

He glances down at her briefly, wide eyes looking up at him and motions momentarily still. And he wonders if Eileen just told her to keep an eye on him, or if she's latched onto him all by herself.

Either way, there's some small squeeze of her hand in response. Nothing he really thinks about, because he doesn't like kids, and he definitely doesn't want a crying one on his hand. His head lifts, attention going back to Charlie as he smiles back at her, and if he's not in the best place right now at least he's not stuck watching romcoms. "Shit, I'm sorry. You want me to kidnap you?"

It's said tongue in cheek, because he's well aware just how loyal she is to her friends. He's been on the receiving end of it in the most brutal way, and he's less bitter about it today than he was at the time. And if it sounds vaguely like the planning of a date, it's a thought easily discarded because it's a conversation they've already have. Neither of them date. If their friendship passes from that into friend with benefits territory then he's comfortable thinking that's as far as it goes.

"Yeah, whenever. I've got time." He shrugs his shoulders like it doesn't matter either way, and to some degree it doesn't. He won't be sitting by his phone waiting for her, but it's true enough that he has little else to do with himself right now. No real thought what he wants to do, and maybe the first will change when the second does. For the moment it seems enough that he can scratch days off a calender since his last hit, and maybe when he's looking at more than two weeks filled up with X's then he'll put more genuine thought into it.

[rogue-mimic]

A wide smile splits Charlie’s lips before she shrugs her shoulders with all the mock innocence the world has to offer, as if she’s trying to outdo the two little girls in the aisle with them, and she has to glance behind her to make sure the other is still there, because she feels partly responsible for the well being, even if she’d only just met Eileen, and still doesn’t know these kids’ names.

"You can text me it later," Charlie reasons with him, mostly because she’s curious as to what his comeback had been, if he really had one at all. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Eli speechless and there’s some strange fire inside her to be the cause of it. Because if he has a comment for everything, she wants to shock him just enough that he’s rattled for a moment. She couldn’t back down from something like a challenge. She’ll always feel the need, she thinks, to constantly prove herself.

There’s a glittering laugh from her at the mention of her film marathon, the joke unexpected, and she nods her head vigorously in agreement. And while she thinks to tell him that the point is really to hang out with a friend, someone who needs distractions right now more than ever, she continues along with the jokes, “And you aren’t? It sounds like the best marathon ever. Who wouldn’t be dead set on it?”

A shrug of her shoulders and an incredulous look plastered upon her face is added for dramatic effect as she gazes at her surroundings, daring anyone to step forward and state they wouldn’t want to watch a Schwarzenegger marathon.

[tragicflxws]

There's a smile curling his lips at her attempt at some innocent expression. If he's always looking for trouble he thinks she's it, regardless of whether it's the kind that comes in a little white bag. Not when they're either flirting with each other or yelling at each other, but either way she always seems to greet him with fire. And if the ends of his fingers are singed from lighters and metal spoons, he can't help but think she's the kind who'll leave him with the same marks.

"Fair warning, I'm probably gonna forget and just send you filthy pick up lines instead." He flashes her a grin, mostly because he thinks it's true. That whatever smartass comment he has waiting on his tongue won't survive the car ride back to Eileen's. 

The words pull a small laugh from him, hoarse from disuse at this point. There's been less to laugh at the last two weeks, and later he'll probably feel the same. When she's not in front of him providing some distraction and he's left alone with his thoughts and an unfamiliar kind of anxiety. It's hard to remember how he functioned without some form of narcotic, and he thinks the doubt that he actually can will linger for a while.

"All I've got the first two Terminators. You want anything else you're gonna have to bring it yourself." And he thinks it's luck of the draw he even has that much. A lot of this things are still in a box in Jay's trunk, because it didn't seem necessary at the time.

Now he wonders just what he planned on doing with himself besides sitting around plotting his escape. And if it leaves him a little more hopeful that she's serious, he still has the urge to brace himself against disappointment. It's only some consolation that she's probably done enough already, that he clung onto the feeling of arms around his shoulders and fingers against the back of his neck even after she left his apartment. "Just lemme know when you're free."

[rogue-mimic]

Charlie laughs quietly, shaking her head at the innuendos and jokes that separate them from the two little girls in the aisle with them. She thinks they’re truly oblivious. One managed to locate a pen for herself and has begun solving puzzles on cereal boxes. The other continues to stare up at Eli, swaying his hand between her two small ones, and something about the image is slightly adorable. Although, more hilarious.

Charlie hisses air through her teeth as her nose crinkles and she shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can do that,” she replies with a mask of sincerity, “I just really appreciate a good coin collection. And I want everyone to know about it.” Her lips part in a large, cheeky grin, sly like a cat’s, and this feels more normal for them. Bad jokes, irreverent comments. Their inappropriate humor had been like a bonding force for the two of them, and this feels more natural to her. Like she has less cause for concern, even if she’s aware Eli is far from living a sober lifestyle.

She nudges his arm with hers in admonishment when he mentions strippergram, because they are still in the presence of children and perhaps that’s not a term Eileen would enjoy hearing repeated back to her. Then again, it’s probably better she believe Charlie to be a strippergram than someone passing off small baggies of white powder to Eli. 

And the middle-aged woman is probably her biggest concern for visiting Eli. She’d watch them like a hawk. And while Charlie doesn’t need a promise of sex to hang out with him, because she means it when she says they’re friends, she still feels anxious at feeling somewhat trapped. It’d be like high school all over again, hoping to God someone’s parents don’t walk in and wonder why the two of them have their hands under the blankets. And perhaps, that would also be a thrill all by itself.

"Well, I’m sure as long as she gets to pat me down real good, she’ll be fine with at least letting me hang out for a bit. Watch a film or something. Eat pizza, I don’t know," Charlie offers with a shrug, as if there’s the hope that attempting to make more solid plans right now means they’ll actually follow through on them.

[tragicflxws]

A quiet noise of frustration escapes Eli's lips, his head tipping back because it feels like they're playing some game right now and he's losing. He's too crude too regularly to think of any response that isn't too filthy for young ears. And the presence at his side, small fingers pressing into his palm, guarantees that she's close enough to hear it. "That's not fair. I have a really good comeback for that too."

And those aside, the words 'prove it' are next on his tongue, and he thinks it's not a challenge he should give her now. Not when chances are he'll just end up the more frustrated of the two of them.

Thoughts of his effective grounding and the celibacy that's been momentarily forced on him, there's still a playfulness to his tone. Something familiar about bad jokes and flirtatious banter that's passed between them from the day he met her. He's sure it says something about him that it makes him feel more like himself, that if he's still something less than human he's still something when he's not shooting poison into his veins. That everything he used to be, he can be again.

Maybe it'll get easier when he's not on something like lockdown twenty-four hours a day, when he can leave the house without a chaperone. When Jay will start trusting him with work and he can prove that he's capable of coming back without fresh track marks on his arms. He knows it's not today. It's not even a question.

There's an unexpected relief in her answer, a smile tugging at his lips that he scrubs a hand over his face to get rid of.  Maybe because some part of him expected her to say no, because who wouldn't have a thousand better things to do than hang out with a junkie? But if there's something like gratitude on his tongue, it never leaves his lips, just shaking his head before he looks back up at her. "You're dead set on getting that Schwarzenegger marathon, aren't you?"

[rogue-mimic]

There’s something in Eli’s smile, something more genuine, like there’s even a small sliver of happiness that he truly feels right now. Because anything else before had seemed forced, or his features too exhausted to plaster an emotions upon his face. And something about a smile makes him seem healthier and that gives her more hope than she had a few days ago. That Eli could really combat this.

It’s added onto by the fact he’d been granted permission to use his phone once again. And perhaps there’s some quick flood of relief that any drunk messages she had thought about sending him on New Year’s Eve had never happened. That would’ve been embarrassing.

His last words feel more like Eli, at least the guy she’s known for the past few months. And it has her attempting to lick the smile off of her lips, but it only helps widen it. Eli had, in fact, read the text messages and at least she could claim they’d been creative and it’s why he couldn’t be angry with her over them.

A few inappropriate jokes race through Charlie’s mind, all censored by the presence of children who probably wouldn’t appreciate a joke about Eli having a little orphan Annie kink if he wants to sleep with her in some woman’s home filled with the children she’s collected. “Uh huh,” is all Charlie says for a moment with a smug smirk and a slow nod of her head.

"Won’t your warden mind visitors?" Charlie questions, and if there’s something in her tone that’s suggestive, it’s also an honest question, "Pretty sure she wouldn’t approve of you sharing your coin collection under her roof."

[tragicflxws]

There's a narrowing of his eyes at the question, aware that if it's a serious one then the answer's probably yes. He thought that whole marriage comment left a substantial gray area, but all the same the last time the thought of trying to get any action in a twin bed without getting caught was well over a decade ago and it's enough that even he's not sure if he's serious about it. 

But there's an odd sort of comfort about the moment, something that feels more like when he first met her. Even if he was high half the time and drunk the other half, he'd at least been something like a person. Not the man he used to be, but maybe it's stupid to think he'll ever get there again. It's too soon for him to embrace anything like hope, when later he thinks he'll start to sweat and he'll wonder what's really stopping him from climbing out the god damn window. 

"Only if you're loud about it." He smirks when he says it, though it's an effort to bite off the comment about ball gags that he wants to follow it up with. The presence of small fingers around his hand are enough of a deterrent, and as it is he thinks he'll be sending her a text later if he gets asked about his coin collection.

"I never got a solid answer on that or the strippergram." And that one does have him glancing over his shoulder, like Eileen will appear to twist his ear for mentioning strippers around her two youngest.

Instead his gaze just settles on the one on the floor, and he doesn't ask where she got the pen she's drawing with or what she's putting on the back of the box. And while there's the thought that Eileen might not appreciate it, at least it's keeping her quiet and keeping her busy so he doesn't have one hanging off the other hand. 

[rogue-mimic]

Eli says he’s not watching them but the woman named Eileen keeps on moving and it causes a large grin to break on Charlie’s lips. “Oh, I like her,” she states bluntly, laughing that the woman doesn’t seem to care much for Eli’s opinion. But she thinks there’s also some semblance of trust there. After all, she had left the two young girls with him and a stranger. And it puts something like hope in her that maybe he’s showing signs of recuperating from his detox. Maybe things will start to get better now. 

One of the girls slides her hand inside Eli’s and Charlie’s shoulders jump with a snort of laughter. The other girl picks up a box of Crunch Berries and begins reading the labels, before realizing there’s games on the back of it. Which causes her to sit on the floor and begin drawing a line through a maze. But the other still hangs onto Eli, eyes blinking up at him with innocent sweetness and a bright smile on her lips. Maybe she’d been scared to be without Eileen, but she looks at Eli with something like adoration that keeps Charlie grinning in amusement.

The fact the woman knows Jay seems to be less shocking than perhaps it should’ve been. But Charlie instantly believes the woman must have an ability too and that’s why she shows little fear when standing before Eli. Like she knows exactly how to take him out, and perhaps she does. And it explains the children, because the two girls look nothing like her.

But Charlie’s distracted by the offer to stop into the foster home and visit him. Perhaps she’s touched, and if it cements in her that they have some form of friendship, that he isn’t done speaking to her just because they’ve drunkenly screwed around, then she reminds herself that she doesn’t believe his friendship is given out lightly. “Yeah,” she states with a smile and a nod, “I’d say text me the address but you’re without a phone. And probably for the best.” Charlie cringes then. “Because I still don’t want you to see those creative and hilarious insults I sent you.”

[tragicflxws]

His eyes narrow briefly at Charlie, not even a little surprised by the words out of her mouth. Of course she would. Both of them are stubborn, neither of them seem to care if Eli would rather be elsewhere, and he says as much. And maybe there's less malice and more affection in his voice, but he thinks it helps that the redhead's smiling back at him. "You would."

The girl holding onto his hand starts to sway a little back and forth, enough to make him glance down at her. And if anything there's more confusion there, why she beams back up at him instead of shrinking away. It's enough that he almost starts yelling for Eileen, but he doubts the woman will come just because he called unless the place is on fire.

The words have him glancing back up, because at least if she's holding onto him than he knows where she is. And no matter how much he dislikes the responsibility, there's no desire in him to lose Eileen's children. Whatever trust he's being offered now by something resembling a moment alone with Charlie, he thinks the disappearance of one or both of them would end in a swift death to his freedom. If not just a swift death in general.

But the words have his smile widening, more honest than they've been in a while. Maybe it says something that today he's amused, and if it helps that she didn't tell him no. "Oh no. I got my phone back." He doesn't know whose benefit it was for that Jay didn't touch any of his messages, but they'd all been waiting for him like she promised. "And I would be more than happy to prove to you the difference between me and a roll of pennies." 

[rogue-mimic]

Charlie’s eyes dart back to the woman again, a slow nod moving her head as if that all makes sense. She hadn’t attempted going back to his apartment again. And if something like guilt accompanies that, she thinks he looks better today and perhaps it wouldn’t be so if she had stopped in. They had parted on good terms last time. Perhaps the next wouldn’t have been so lucky.

She takes a step forward to lean into Eli. “I think she could kick your ass,” she mutters to Eli before stepping to the side as the warden wheels the cart over, followed by two young girls, one of them she recognizes from choosing between cereal.

"Hi," Charlie greets with a large grin, shifting the basket in her arms to hold out her right hand towards the cross woman who regards her skeptically, "I’m Charlie. One of Eli’s friends." The clarification seems needed, because the woman probably suspects her of passing along drugs to Eli, to be the cause of his relapse. And if she wants to be anything to him at all, that’s not something she’d prefer.

The older woman grasps her hand in her own, a strong shake that’s slightly intimidated but perhaps it has Charlie’s smile widening. She introduces herself as Eileen before telling the girls to wait here while she continues shopping. Perhaps young faces are a guilt trip. Or just tiny snitches.

[tragicflxws]

He makes a face at Charlie's words, and if he's petty he's not petty enough to argue that one. Maybe right now she could. And it says something that Eileen has that effect on most people she meets, even before meeting them. That she's somehow in charge, and he imagines it was probably why Jay asked her to house his ass. Because most of their friends he could roll right over, too stubborn and too reckless to accept an offered hand when it went against selfish urges.

"I'm not watching them." He calls it after the woman's retreating back, not expecting her to respond or to care what he wants in the slightest. She's made it clear so far that he's lost the right to make any decisions for himself, and when he's less bitter and more sober he might agree with her. If it's in his nature to be destructive, he thinks most of it has been taken out on himself.

Either way, his attention drops to the two girls for a moment, one of which decided she wants to hold his hand. He purses his lips at her, some look of annoyance as she pulls it free from where it's crossed over his chest and holds it in both of his. 

"She's uh, a friend of Jay's." It takes him a second to put the words together before he lifts his head to focus on her again. And he's not sure if she needs the explanation or not.  "She runs a foster home kind of thing. So that's where I'm at. If you wanted to visit. If not, that's cool."

[rogue-mimic]

"Ah, yes," Charlie replies slowly like she’s in some dream world, nodding her head along with her words, "Like we’re all jumping on a bed in our underwear and cut off jerseys that if we jumped just a little higher, you could totally see our tits. Oh, and pillow fights. Of course.” Her tongue is caught between her teeth before she’s chuckling over the visual, shaking her head to rid herself of porn she’s seen before that just made her wonder who actually enjoyed watching this.

She nods along with Eli’s suggestions, agreeing they could be put on her list of break up films. “Yeah, totally. Because when an asshole breaks up with you, you wanna watch sweaty, muscle-y men ripping people’s faces off and shooting everyone a thousand times with giant machine guns. And then feeding baby deers. Like Commando,” Charlie remarks, a slight pout to her lips at the thought of the cute baby deer scene, which had been ridiculous for an action film like that.

Movement catches her eyes however, an older woman with red hair stopping as she turned the corner, gaze like a hawk upon Eli and lips a thin, tight line. “Uhm,” Charlie stalls, humming in the back of her throat as her stare darts between Eli and the other woman, “Do you know her?”

[tragicflxws]

The words have his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, eyes narrowing at her. And while he's well aware it's a joke, there's something to be said for the visual it puts in his head, even if it's ridiculous. Because he thinks he owned that porn, and it has him bobbing his head in the next moment. "Yes. Exactly. Something more like that. Take pictures." 

He flashes her a smile, rocking back on his feet before his hands pull out of his pockets to cross over his chest. Maybe he still can't hold still, but as side effects go, it's still better than the one he's already made it through. Enough that there's a small laugh at her words, another nod of agreement. "Makes me feel better."

The question has him looking over his shoulder, though he doubts he really needs to. The sharp glare directed at him just has him offering a smile in return before he turns back to Charlie. And he wonders if the woman's going to want to pat him down after this, or the redhead in front of him, and no matter how hilarious that might be ti has a sigh escaping him. His hand comes up, scrubbing at his hair because there's something like embarrassment there.

He's not used to this kind of situation, where his life's not his own. It's been a decade since he left home and he hasn't answered to anyone except his brother. Now he's at the mercy of the woman behind him, no real place of his own, none of the same freedoms. And if the scars on his arms are a testament to why, it doesn't make it any easier to stomach when he's standing here with Charlie. "Ah, yeah. That would be my warden." 

[rogue-mimic]

The little girl doesn’t seem to listen or care for what Eli has to say, and that only makes Charlie smile. Maybe there’s something to be said about the sexes banded together. That young girls will always listen to their older generations if pitted between them and men. But with the girl skipping off after the disappearing cart, the redhead turns her attention back towards Eli entirely.

Maybe he looks better, more in control, but she doesn’t assume that means he is. Charlie couldn’t guess what day he’s on, but maybe it all just feels like day one. Still, there’s something like relief at his appearance, even if he might look bored out of his mind. He appears less hollow, like his bones and muscles are slowly starting to regenerate inside his skin.

A smirk forms to her lips at the slightly flustered reply Eli gives her, but she had guessed the little girl doesn’t belong to him. Why, she could say. Perhaps it just seems unlike Eli to have any kids. Or ones he knows of or wants to raise, and she feels a bit guilty for that thought. But considering of the hole he’s dug himself into, she thinks there’s some validity to it.

His question, however, makes her self conscious about her appearance once more. And there’s some words of advice floating around her head from her mother, that she should always look her best. That’s probably not now with face clear of make up and hair unmanageable that she couldn’t be bothered with it. Her fingers rake through the curls subconsciously as she smiles.

"Yeah, sorta," she admits with a shrug, "Probably more tears than you’re fantasizing about. Friend got dumped. She requested junk food and shitty rom coms that I’d prefer not to watch. But she didn’t approve of my Arnold Schwarzenegger marathon idea."

[tragicflxws]

Eli makes a face at the words, but it's an odd sort of reminder that she has a life and friends of her own. That it was probably much more comfortable before he entered it, and if that's just timing it's still bad on his part. None of them ask for it, but if he thinks of his abilities as a gift, last time it came up she was still working on that part. And there's some guilt there that he didn't ask how she was doing the last time he saw her, that maybe she hadn't been trying to get in touch with him just to yell at him. He didn't know that she had anyone else to talk to, or anyone else who she'd risk letting touch her, and he'd effectively dropped out of his own life.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, pushing the thoughts aside, because it's not like he can really ask right now. Not in the middle of the supermarket. But it's some reminder that he has his phone back, and even if he's bound and chained to Eileen's house, it doesn't mean he can't call her. 

But the thoughts are something closer to optimistic, and he doesn't cling to them for long. Hope still seems fleeting and too far from his grasp right now, not when he thinks just as much that she won't want much to do with him. 

"Alright, but can I pretend anyway?" The words are closer to playful, more of his humor back in place when he can stand here and talk to her without feeling like he's shattering. He's still not back to where he was, or where he could be, but thirteen days is better than five. "It all looks very sorority in my head."

He shifts on his feet, an unconscious positioning of himself between her and Eileen, though it's nothing he's aware of when he does it. And if he had, he couldn't have said why, except to save himself some small embarrassment from two women who are less than subtle with their opinions. "Well that's bullshit. What about Die Hard? Rambo?" 

[rogue-mimic]

This market isn’t the closet to Charlie’s apartment. But it’s the closest to Shauna’s small flat. After a long night of work, and why the redheaded had decided to pick up extra shifts she really couldn’t say, the plan had been to sleep in today. And while she had, she’d been awoken to a phone call of a sobbing woman, heaving out words like ‘dumped’ and ‘ex’ in the phone.

She might be a bad friend, because her first thought had been to complain. She hadn’t wanted to crawl out of the warmth of her covers and console a grieving friend over a lost relationship, with an asshole she never really liked to begin with. Instead, Charlie had dragged herself out of bed.

Unfamiliar with the layout of the market, Charlie wanders down an aisle in search of other junk food snack to get them through the day. Four containers of ice cream sit inside the basket she carries in the crook of her elbow and there’s a confused frown on her face when she stares at the rows of cereal. This isn’t where soda would be.

A little girl chimes a question at someone else in the aisle, voice bright and clear as children’s voices often are. But the response the little girl gets comes from a familiar tone. It has Charlie’s cheeks warming, slightly embarrassed by the mess of curls hanging unbrushed around her shoulders and the yoga pants she had pulled on just to leave the house. She had put little effort into her appearance, expecting to be curled up on Shauna’s couch with sappy romance films that she hates.

With a smirk, she pulls a box from off the shelf and walks over to the little girl, holding the choice out to her. “Crunch Berries are better,” she informs the small girl, whose eyes light up with something she apparently hasn’t tried. She tucks the Lucky Charms under her arm and grabs the box from Charlie before skipping off.

"Leave you alone for a few days and you’ve reproduced."

[tragicflxws]

The voice is unexpected, at least here, and if there'd been some thought to when, if ever, he'd see her again, the fact that he didn't have an answer made it easier to not think about it at all. Maybe when he was something like stable, when he was allowed out of Eileen's house without an entourage of children there to provide some moral blackmail. Despite whatever joking words he'd said to the woman of the house, he didn't really expect Eileen's was anywhere she'd want to be just to see some asshole that maybe counted as a friend.

"She's lying. They're not better," he calls after the girl, but she's either not listening or doesn't care. He doesn't know how children think. It has him making a face before he turns back around to face Charlie, uncomfortably aware of the three people behind him.

It has him straining slightly, and if there's some desire to appear more in control of his life this time, he can blame the faint embarrassment for the state she'd seen him in at his apartment. Pained, jonesing, clinging to her in some desperate need for comfort, and if those things are still present now it's at least to a lesser degree.

But whatever cool he's trying to maintain, the words shatter it, coughing at the words before he's shaking his head. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder after the girl in question, and whether she's already aware of it or not, he says the words quickly. Because the thought of him as a father is just a terrifying one. "Hey, no. That's not mine." 

But it gives him a moment to study her, the rumpled hair that reminds him pleasantly of how she'd looked the morning after. It's enough to put a small smile on his face, though it doesn't last, some jealousy making him wonder if there's a good reason for that. Sarcasm and inappropriate humor always comes easier. "You on your way to a sleepover? All girls? Feather pillows?"

[tragicflxws]

When Eli had said he needed out of the house already, he'd been hoping for a bar. Strip club maybe, bowling alley, and if they're his own words it just adds some mild amusement to it. He hadn't planned on being dragged along on some family shopping trip, and it's stupid that he's almost more uncomfortable here than he is anywhere else. He's used to throwing beer and ramen in the bottom of a cart. Not worrying about what to feed the four kids living in Eileen's house, if the crayon drawing in his drawer was to be believed. Maybe more. He didn't know.

He just trails along behind Eileen and the two girls she'd brought with her, less interested in the grocery store and more interested in how far he was from some place more interesting. Probably more dangerous. And it leaves his skin crawling, some self-loathing filtering in because he can't just turn it off. He can't stop his head from going down that path, from thinking how quickly he can go from thirteen days to zero.

"What kind do you want?" The words are high pitched, the sound of small feet on tile greeting his ears as one of the girls runs up to him. Becky maybe. He can't remember their names yet. Her hands hold up two boxes of cereal and he scans them disinterestedly. 

"I don't care." And it's only afterwards he thinks it's sharper than an eight year old deserves. And there's no doubt that if his attention shifted to the Mama Bear ten feet away then she'd be giving him a look that said exactly that. Possibly followed by a smack upside the head. There's no fear in him of her or anyone, but there's still no real desire to piss her off either. So he plasters the closest he has to a smile on his lips before he nods his head at the box. "Lucky Charms. They're magically delicious, yeah?"

[rogue-mimic]

The smile slips from Charlie’s lips, replaced with some sad expression, because she doesn’t know how to help. She thinks the only way she could come up with to take his pain away would be to let him out that door. But she’s too cowardly to give him that trust, or maybe just too smart. There’s a defeated shrug of her shoulders, a gesture that most likely doesn’t help his state. Because if he’s beginning to lose hope, he doesn’t need her to as well.

If she tenses when his hands brush against the fabric of her shirt, it has little to do with Eli. It’s mostly to do with herself, the ability resting beneath her veins that transforms her into a potential toxin, just as harmful as whatever Eli had been injecting into his system for Lord knows how long. She’s grateful she makes a conscious effort in covering up, even if she had been reckless the last time she had seen Eli and threw caution to the wind with a dress baring all the skin she had to offer.

There’s the thought she should remove her gloves, because what use is comfort if you couldn’t feel the person comforting you? But a small voice in her head says she can’t. She’ll hurt him. Hurt herself. And even if her temper seems under control right now, it could change in a flash with Eli, harder to gauge when he’s trying out sobriety.

Charlie’s arms slowly slip around his neck, her fingers gentle against the back of his head as she cradles him to her, providing whatever comfort she could for a friend in need. She’s careful in handling him but her arms refuse to lack presence, making themselves known that if he felt the need to crumble here, she’d hold him up. And she wouldn’t tell a soul.

"Can’t make it stop," Charlie admits quietly under the thought that gloves fingers are useless companions. But there’s a quiet laugh shaking her frame as she resorts back to tasteless joke, "Could give ya a blowjob to make you forget though. Maybe. Depending on how good the blowjob is, I guess."

[tragicflxws]

A shuddering breath escapes him when her arms go around his neck, something like relief at the momentary comfort. Even if it's fleeting, even if it doesn't stop his body from rebelling against him, there's something to be said for the press of fingers against the back of his head. Whether or not they're covered in a protective layer of cloth. 

He still wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close as she'll let him before his forehead settles on her shoulder. And he can't stop his body from trembling now, too much weakness and strain on his system from trying to sweat out the poison he's filled his blood with for years. If it's pathetic the way his fingers twist in his shirt, the way he clings to her, even feeling shame for that feels like too much effort right now. He cares less about embarrassment and more about whatever he can hold onto to try and ease what he's done to himself.

His eyes crush close, head nodding when she says she can't make it stop. And there's no real thought that she could, no bitterness when she says it's nothing she can give him. He knows that, knows it'll take time and she's just caught him at a bad one. Jay won't let him have painkillers or vodka or anything else that might take the pain away before it might destroy him just as quickly. And it doesn't escape him that it's how this started, because he just didn't want to hurt anymore.

The words have a small snort of laughter escaping him, hands tightening briefly in her shirt. There's no real thought that she's serious, and he hates that he's in so many pieces he doesn't fully contemplate the words. Chances are he'll try and take her up on it later, he'll throw out some line about really needing comfort, but that's all contingent on him staying sober. And he thinks right now that if he doesn't, whatever friendship they've formed won't last beyond it.

"You know the worst blowjob I ever had?" His head's still pressed against the shoulder, and if it muffles the words, it's a bad joke anyway. "It was awesome."

[rogue-mimic]

Eli would probably fight back, if he could. And it’s almost terrifying to Charlie that he’s possibly too weak to. That each step makes his stomach churn, or that he couldn’t hold his hand up without it shaking. If it quells some temperamental beast inside of her, it’s only because she’s always been too loyal too quickly, too empathetic to people who perhaps didn’t deserve a second thought. But she thinks Eli deserves it.

His fingers release her wrist, bringing a sense of relief that helps to calm her. There’s less of a threat when her skin is just her own, something that no one else tries to claim territory over. She’s the safest when she’s wrapped up in layers and solitude. Even if Eli had proven on a few separate occasion that he could touch her. Maybe all of that is just temporary.

"You helped me," Charlie remarks quietly, fingers uncurling from the fabric of his shirt to smooth her gloves palm over the wrinkles she’d put there. But Eli had helped her. She already owes him more than she’s comfortable with, more than she’d ever owed anyone. He kept her from hurting anyone that night at the bar, took her away from the crowd to cover up her ability. Touched her when no one else had, and if he had been fearful of her, he never displayed it. But she thinks he isn’t afraid of anything, perhaps foolishly so. Maybe then he would’ve been afraid of his own mortality this whole time.

Charlie ducks her head, eyes seeking Eli’s even if there’s a light missing from them. Even if he seems more like a hollow shell than a living, breathing person. She’s still his friend. “Now shut the fuck up, and let me help you,” she requests with a kind smile.

[tragicflxws]

There's a stubborn part of him that wants to keep fighting, some thought like he's giving up by letting her stop him. By just standing still, or at least as still as he can get with shaking hands and aching bones. And whether it's just in his nature to always fight something or that black dog on his back digging his claws in, he doesn't know or care right now. But it says something that he doesn't know what makes him weaker, that he's ready to fight her to get out the door or that he stopped.

The words leave him quiet though, biting back the urge to yell at her, to tell her he doesn't need any help. Even if everything about this moment is a sharp illustration that it would be a lie, that he's been hurtling towards some abyss of his own making. 

His fingers are still threaded through his hair when her eyes come into view, but for a moment he just looks through her. At least until the words come, and there's some urge to laugh accompanying it. His eyes close, bobbing his head slowly and accepting the words with a passivity that doesn't suit him. But he's tired and hurt and whatever anger left strength to his limbs is fading just as quickly. "Can you make it stop?"

He's selfish, and she doesn't owe him, and he knows those things. Whether he helped her or not barely factors into it, because it doesn't seem like he did all that much. At least not in comparison to everything he used to be. But it doesn't stop him from shifting forward again, just not to escape. His hands move towards her waist, some quiet need just for some human comfort, for arms around him and some touch besides his own that doesn't just make the pain worse.

[eileen-savage-blog]

"Only if you plan on marrying her," Eileen comments with a sad sort of smile upon her lips, a silent snort of laughter as she gazes upon Eli. He’d one of hers, whether he likes it or not. And it matters less and less that he hadn’t grown up under her roof. He’d been a part of their family, and some people seemed inconsolable after Samson and Eli turned to names and memories instead of physical bodies one could touch. It had been a difficult blow to their community. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to blame Eli for disappearing. She’d done the same when she moved to Vegas.

If she doubts Eli would ever find someone he’d be willing to marry, it just makes her own comment more humorous to herself. Eli had always been a difficulty and bless any woman who believed they could put some leash around his neck and domesticate him. She had always told Jane to find a dumb man for herself, so she could continue to live her life the way she wanted. But Eli isn’t some idiot and she counts herself fortunate that she’ll never have to look upon Eli as her son-in-law to some extent. Because he’d tear through Jane, no matter how strong she is. He’d tear through anyone.

His acceptance is almost a relief, because fighting with her would only start them off on the wrong foot. Her palms comes to his cheek, a light, affectionate tap against his skin until her fingers hold his chin in place. “It’s gotta get worse before it gets better,” she tells him honestly, fully aware, and as prepared as she can be, for the hell he’d be living in the next few weeks. Months. However long this took.

Stepping away from him, Eileen walks back towards the door. “Towels are in the closet in the hallway. Bathroom’s down the hall. The kids go back to school soon, but someone will always be here. Mostly me. Dinner is at six every night,” she lists for him, and the way she states each word sounds as though Eli has little choice in the matter. He doesn’t truly. He’d eat with the family, or he wouldn’t eat at all. And she thinks that has less to do with her own set of rules and more to do with his detox that will make him ill. She turns to him then, fingers hugging the door frame as her lips set into a firm yet sympathetic line. “Welcome to the floor, kid.”

[tragicflxws]

"That's bullshit. You wouldn't buy a car without test driving it first." He makes a face at that, the thought that he'll ever get married to anyone. Especially right now, when the thought of him holding a steady relationship seems as binding and unwelcome as the sobriety that's been all but forced on him. It doesn't matter that he asked for it, that this is some form of tough love to try and get him back on his feet. It still feels like chains around his wrists.

And it makes it just as difficult to hold onto any semblance of humor, because even if he's doing better, he's still damaged. He's still a junkie and he still gets cold sweats just thinking about his drugs. There's still stomach churning anxiety at the thought that he'll never have a hit again, just as much at the thought that he will. 

The hands coming to his face don't quiet it any, but it stills him momentarily, affection of any kind still more unfamiliar than it used to be. And maybe tomorrow the words will be a comfort, or next week, or next month, or however long it takes for him to see something like a light at the end of the tunnel. Right now it just has him shaking his head when she steps back. "It's that 'getting better' part I'm having trouble with." 

If there was uneasiness in her presence, he can't stop himself from tensing slightly when she goes to leave. Because he doesn't know what he'll do when he's left to his own devices, but he should probably figure it out sooner rather than later. But he nods his head at the words, for the most part accepting the words and the rules he's been given, even if he can't promise to follow them. "Not gonna thank you right now."