InsaneJournal

Who: Gabrielle and Aaron
What: yay development of character/making Aaron's day XD
Where: Apt. 104
When: Evening, while Shiloh is working and Aaron is out watching a movie
Warnings: None (:



It was pretty late, and Gabrielle was just getting in from her job as a ballet instructor for little kids. She went (relatively) sober to her lessons, and it was always an intense effort to maintain herself for that long. She had a headache. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, nauseous. The second she got out of the studio and back into the complex, she was fumbling for her bag, pulling out a sleek silver etched flask that was filled with whiskey and taking a long swig, swallowing hard. She sucked a gulp of air in through gritted teeth before taking another, and then a third, successfully halving the liquid content of the flask.

She stood there, in the lobby, for a moment, taking a deep breath before capping the flask and slipping it into her purse again. Her shoulders slumped a little, in relaxation, and she closed her eyes. It was warm, in the lobby, making her muscles feel melty and thawed out. She slid out of her jacket, throwing it over her arm and walking again.

Only, she didn't walk to the elevator, or to the stairs. She walked slowly to apartment 101, as if discovering that there were rooms on the first floor for the first time. Running her fingers across the door, she continued to slowly walk, fingers trailing behind her, tips pressed against wall, then door, then wall again, until she reached 104. Her fingers hit the doorknob, which was locked, but not closed tightly enough: the door swung open an inch or two, and she peeked in.

Absentmindedly, she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a click. She gazed around, up at the walls and across the room, as if it were fascinating. Her fingertips ran across the furniture softly, and she pulled out a stool, sitting on it for a moment before her nose wrinkled slightly. There was no back, she thought to herself. That was no good. She slid off the chair, jacket tumbling from her arm, forgotten, and moved to the living room, sitting on a couch. She slid down, until her shoulders were halfway down the couch back and her butt was almost hanging off of it, and then sat forward again, shifting on it. Something about it felt odd. The cushions seemed to give too much, she sank too far into it, like a child swathed by too many blankets. She stood up, feeling claustrophobic.

Her fingers caressed the video game controller for a moment, gazing at it thoughtfully, before she moved on, walking through the living room, still looking around her as if a small child discovering a new hiding place. She turned to the right--a door--and pushed at it. It opened again, and she stepped into the room. Duffel bag, more electronics, and a laptop on a mattress. It was decidedly different from her own room, but something about it felt proper. It settled in her mind like a comfortable jacket, fitting in all the right places. She walked over to the mattress, falling back to sit on it, and then leaned towards the laptop. It was on, but no windows were open. She flipped onto her stomach on top of the sleeping bag, opening up a game of solitaire and starting to play. Somehow, strangely, it didn't strike her as odd at all at that moment, to be doing this in a stranger's home. Lying on her side, she continued to play until she fell asleep (which was surprisingly quickly), curled around the laptop, blonde hair splayed out starkly against the plaid material of the sleeping bag.