[Ellie offers him a wider, more cheerful attempt at a smile before she walks over to his desk, peering down at the papers that lay scattered on top. His drawings. She blinks and stares, curious and thoughtful.]
T-Thank you. [He ducked his head as he shut the door behind him and latched it nervously.] I-I keep the key on the nightstand if you need it at all. A-An extra one is in the drawer. I-I’m sorry I just… n-need the d-door locked.
[She nods, looking at him sympathetically.] I understand. I-It’s okay.
[She shrugs] It is all right. I like big cities, there’s always things going on. From crazy people in the streets screaming about the end of days to couples breaking up in cafes and new people trying to figure out where they go in the world.
[She looks shy for a moment, but she needs to know.] Do you…have any stories?
[He smiled gently as he came to the door. He gently set her down on the floor so he could unlock the door with a mumbled “sorry!”. He opened the door for her to go in first, glancing over his shoulders nervously as he always did when entering his room.] I’m sorry for the mess. [He sighed, slightly flustered.]
[The room wasn’t very messy at all. The desk was a little cluttered with books and papers, his backpack hanging over the edge of the chair, a few water bottles were on the nightstand, but the extras were lined up beside his lamp, his bed wasn’t made tidy, but the covers were pulled up and his closet door was firmly shut, his laundry basket sitting in front of it to make noise if it happened to start opening.]
N-No, it’s fine…[She mumbled herself, gingerly entering the room with an inquisitive look in her eyes. She caught sight of the books, and a fond smile etched itself onto her features. Ellie examined the room a little bit more, noticing the obvious nightmare-proofing it withheld. Those were the same tricks her mother had taught her before Ellie had learned to control her nightmares.] ….I like it here. It’s…nice.
You’re allowed to say whatever you want.
[She smiles quietly, careful to watch the moving floor underneath her instead of pressing herself so close to him as she had before. It was almost instinct the way she curled into herself so he would not have to try so hard carrying her.]
Well… my r-room is right down the hall… I don’t mind, you know, i-if you don’t.
…I-I don’t m-mind, I, uh, I guess. Th-Thanks…oh, dear…am I allowed to say that…?
My mother wanted me to do something ‘girly’, and I refused to do anything else the first time I put my hands on a weave. It was a good choice; I’m fucking brilliant.
….do you sell your work? Have you thought about it? ‘Cause, I-I would really love to have one…
No one is boring, people are just not interested enough to figure that out.
I haven’t properly lived there since I was quite small, but from my visits I can tell you it is usually cold, loud, and aggressive. But, at least there is often things happening.
Wow…do you like it there? What happens?