WHO: Temperance Llancaster and Justice Llancaster. WHEN: August 7th, 2019. Night. WHERE: Their shared room. Aha. SUMMARY: These two siblings realize they're sharing a room together. WARNINGS: Substance abuse. Feelings. Language? Temperance's anger.
The flight from Denver to Houston took two-and-a-half hours. That would’ve been fine had it not been 5:30am. That, too, could have been tolerated if the stewardess hadn’t run out of coffee and the kid behind him had, for any modicum of time, stopped rhythmically kicking his seat. By the time the plane touched down in Texas, Justice had had enough. He grabbed Captain’s leash, roughly tugged his carry-on luggage out of the overhead bin, and stormed off of the plane. (As fast as anyone can storm off of a plane with a hundred or so other people swarming the aisles to do the same.)
He hit the terminal and headed for his connecting flight to San Juan. When he arrived at the gate, he saw the flight time change for nearly four hours later. Something was wrong with the plane. They had to wait for someone to fix it or they needed to change out the plane. Any of the options available wasted his time. So Justice bought himself several drinks from the nearest bar at 9:00am and waited. By 2:00pm, they were boarding. The whiskey dulled the blood curdling screams of a nearby infant. By 6:30pm, he was in Puerto Rico. And if that wasn’t a reason to drink, he didn’t know what was.
He boarded his last flight, Tortola-bound, at 8:00pm. The ferry would apparently carry him and a bunch of other idiots over to the island in the morning. Or the afternoon. Whenever. Whatever.
There was a hotel room waiting for him, but he hit a snag when the front desk noticed his dog. A few dollars greased the squeaky wheel, as it were, and he crashed much earlier than usual.
The following morning was a clusterfuck. Between the hangover and the previous day, Justice was already off on the wrong foot. But when the maid let Captain out of his room, he spent several hours scouting around trying to find her. He missed the first ferry. He caught the second by the skin of his teeth. Between the pounding in his head and the bright sun glaring over the boat, he was ready to check in to the hotel, grab a beer at the bar, and sleep again. Maybe he’d just sleep until the damn thing was over.
Captain barked throughout the long line at the front desk, stress panting, as children taunted her out of reach. She was too simple to respond to any commands. Instead, she pawed at the floor and tried to pull away from her lead, which only seemed to confuse her more. After twenty minutes in line, he finally had his keycard. He loaded himself, his luggage, and his anxiety-ridden dog into the elevator and found his way to the seventh floor.
He counted the room numbers as he wandered his way down the hall, looking for the right door.
Finally.
Justice slid the card into the reader, grateful for the mechanical click that allowed a burst of cool air as he entered the room. Had it not been for Captain’s warning bark, he might’ve barged through. Instead, he looked up in time to see his sister.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
In Temperance’s experience, traveling was only excruciating when the destination was worthwhile. Even a two hour drive could last an eternity when there was something exhilarating waiting at the end of the journey. But traffic delays and crowded security checkpoints lost a lot of their irritating properties when every green light, ever wave of next brought her one step closer to a place she didn’t want to go. At the airport, when her flight was briefly delayed, it was easy for her to ignore the groans of displeasure around her, because after she boarded this plane, after she caught her connecting flight and finished with the airplane portion of her itinerary, she’d be one boat ride away from a place that very much was not home.
From people who very much were not home.
She used to love traveling. Even before she was old enough to truly understand anything about where they were going, when the family piled into the car with their bags packed, she always had her face pressed against the window, like being as close to the glass as possible brought her that tiny bit closer to wherever they were going. Today, she only really looked up from her tablet when it was time to move from Point A to Point B. She wasn’t eager. She wasn’t excited. Temperance just had a lot of work to do, and little on her mind to distract her from it.
Her mother had won, after all, but that didn’t mean Temperance was buying into the whole messy agenda the Llancasters no doubt had for this trip. When she called, Temperance answered because she still answered when they called. But that was as far as she was willing to go these days. Usually. She didn’t send birthday cards. She didn’t come home for holidays. Temperance took phone calls and replied to texts with succinct word choices and very clear, finite punctuation, and that was how her mother wrapped the big ask she threw Temperance’s way. You don’t come home anymore, Tempe. You don’t even come for Easter. That was our holiday. Our big family holiday. Please, sweetheart. Please do this. For me? It was a dirty play, masterful like only a mother could be. And now Temperance was going to an island in her mother’s place. But that was all she had agreed to. No tearful reunions. No heartfelt apologies. No long nights spent weeping over the young lives extinguished too early. No Remember when Hope... whispers over dinner or drinks. She would be present. And that would be all.
In retrospect, she should’ve questioned her mother a little more, just to get a feel for what she was up to. What else she expected from Temperance, agreement or not. Because if she’d asked, she might’ve recognized that her mother was going to pull a stunt even though she was safely at home in Colorado. If she’d asked, she might not have known the exact specifics of whatever her mother was cooking up, but she at least would’ve smelled the gas. As it were, when the door started opening, Temperance looked up from her tablet, vaguely irritated that someone else would be joining her, and then recognition dawned. Her eyes flashed a bit wider, just for a second, just for one beat of unfiltered, unrestrained reaction, before she reined it back in.
Mother: 1
“Oh yes, this is a big joke. You know how we just love playing pranks on one another,” she deadpanned. Pugsley, never one to recognize his mother’s contempt as a sign to remain stoic and aloof, jumped off the bed to investigate the new arrivals. His investigative style involved letting out a single rumbling bark before flopping onto his back in submission. Wednesday, to her credit, remained perched at the end of the bed, clearly unimpressed.
As Justice narrowed his eyes against the sight of his sister and her tiny dog, his nostrils flared with his decision. He’d just go back downstairs and ask for a room change. It shouldn’t be that hard. Mindful of her pets, he slammed the door shut without a word and stormed his way down the hall, to the elevator, and then to the front desk.
It was another fifteen minute wait as Captain whined and whimpered. After a small child’s balloon popped unexpectedly, she squatted and stress peed. “Just—that’s just great, Cap,” Justice growled, digging his fingers into his hair. “That’s great. Thanks a lot for that.”
But it wasn’t his house. And it wasn’t his hotel. Further, he didn’t have to clean it up. He’d tip a housekeeper or whatever and keep going. The first person he saw with a name tag, he pointed at the puddle on the rug and passed over a twenty dollar bill. He was too tired to deal with the hand he’d been dealt with the room and his sister to consider figuring out how to do it himself.
Once he’d reached the desk, he smiled patiently, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes but still showed all of his teeth. A warning. “I’ve been put in this room,” he explained as he slid the room key across the desk and tapped the number. “I think there’s been a mistake, though, because I requested a single room and it looks like I’m sharing with someone.”
What happened next was a series of excuses. Then the final blow: it was done purposefully and wouldn’t be changed.
His return journey to the seventh floor involved a lot of cursing, stomping, and throwing of things. Like a cat, he batted books off of tables and bumped into potted plants until there was ‘accidental’ wreckage that pointed a clear path to where he’d been and where he went. By the time he reached the room, he all but threw his stuff inside.
“Did you do this or was it Mother?”
Temperance thought slamming the door was a nice touch. Really drove his indignation home. She offered an absent wave to the closed door and focused back on her tablet. Pugsley grumbled a few times before returning to the bed. As she was traveling, Temperance had managed to input her client’s house blueprints into her design software, but now that she was firmly on solid ground, it was easier to really sink into the project. Her job was to tap into the unseen potential of a space, and she always found that the best place to start was with the bare bones. No clutter, just the structure. She had all her notes spread out on the bed as well, messages from her client detailing their thoughts and opinions, the styles they liked as well as complimentary styles to incorporate into the overall design. Her dog was used to her work methods, and kept to the edge of the bed so as not to disturb any of her paperwork.
She couldn’t say how much time passed before the door opened again, just that she’d made a good amount of preliminary progress. Her sigh was mostly irritation at her work being interrupted, jaw tightening ever-so-slightly. Temperance made sure to save her work before setting down her tablet. She straightened up on the bed as well, back rigid and shoulders squared. When her gaze shifted his way, her stare was cool and sharp, narrowed without developing into a full glare. If anything, it was the look of a harsh assessment coming up short.
“You honestly think I would’ve willingly agreed to this arrangement?” Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and Temperance let out a short, humorless laugh. “What, in the last twenty years, has given you the impression that I’d ever agree to this?”
Captain made quick work of steadily working her way through the room, sniffing the corners of the bed, sniffing the corners of the room, looking for bowls and food, looking for the other animals—she finally settled on Temperance and tentatively crossed the distance between them to put a well-meaning paw against the edge of the bed and lift herself up to stretch her nose toward the woman.
“Cap, will you stop it?” Justice huffed in annoyance.
The dog offered a slow tail wag and a sad expression, but stayed where she was, eager for attention.
Justice shoved his belongings next to the bed and stood for a moment, staring at his sister. There was resentment that she’d left him, but hadn’t he done the same to her? The reigning emotion was fear. That it would happen again. That he was so much bigger now. That if it came for him, no one would stop him. He’d lost one sister and he wouldn’t lose the other.
His mouth set in a firm line as he swallowed hard. He dragged his fingers through his hair again and offered a shrug. “As if I would know why you do the things you do.”
Dogs were loyal creatures. Temperance appreciated cats for completely different reasons, but she chose to adopt Pugsley because dogs were loyal. They didn’t disappoint you. They wouldn’t leave you. They were the very opposite of people in so many ways, and even though she chose a smaller breed for her own personal pet, she had a soft spot for dogs in general. But even if that wasn’t the case, even if she had a burning hatred for large dog breeds, any and all, her brother’s annoyance would’ve sold her on ignoring his request to encourage his dog’s investigation instead. What was an invasive dog nose compared to Justice being ignored by his own animal? Willful disobedience at its finest. With a smile directed only at the dog, saved primarily for animals anyway, Temperance extended her hand enough to let her sniff at her leisure.
It would’ve been a fine moment if Justice decided against talking. But then, when wasn’t that statement accurate? Temperance didn’t drop her hand, but she dropped the smile. Her gaze shifted slowly, sharp despite the casual adjustment to her attention. His words registered clearly, but there was something incredulous to her expression, even though it would be hard to pinpoint exactly what gave her feelings away. The ferocity of her stare, probably, or the hard set of her lips just before a cruel hint of amusement pulled at one corner.
“Not a guess? Really?” If this were actually funny, she would’ve laughed. But this mess was pathetic, nothing more. “Right. Because you played no part in any of this. Of course.” Temperance turned her attention back to the dog. “Makes sense you’d take up playing innocent martyr in Hope’s honor.”
There was a sharp knock on the door, cutting Justice short just as he’d opened his mouth to counter. He narrowed his eyes and turned, taking several steps toward the door to open and stare at the person standing just outside. His gaze wavered between the staff and the crate containing a tired and frustrated micro pig. Who, really, wasn’t exactly miniature anymore.
“Mr. Llancaster?”
“Aw, it’s Bacon,” he offered as he stepped toward the man with the crate. The pig grunted joyfully at recognizing his owner. The exchange happened quickly and it wasn’t long before the pig was roaming the room, the door closing behind him with a click.
The pig had been small at one point, but was now pushing a hundred pounds. Captain swung herself away from Temperance and climbed onto the nearest bed, staring at their newest addition with a mix of fear and curiosity.
“I’ll get this fixed in the morning. I’m sure the front desk will switch at some point. I’m sure you could find someone else to room with you, if need be. Just send out a ‘wanted ad’ over their network.” He unpacked a litter box for the pig and shoved it in the bathroom, stomping back toward the bed. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
Watching the arrival of a pig was the closest Temperance came to a display of curiosity. It was unexpected, she’d admit that much. But something unexpected wasn’t the same as something worth commenting on. The pig’s arrival had interrupted Justice before he could toss some weak barb her way, and without that back and forth, Temperance would’ve been content returning back to her work. If he thought she couldn’t ignore him, complete with a giant scaredy-dog and an actual snorting pig, Justice was grossly underestimating her.
Her gaze had returned to her tablet already when Justice claimed he’d fix the situation. Her eyebrows lifted slowly. The only thing colder than her gaze was her smile.
“Oh, you fix things now? That’s a new trick.”
There had been a lot Justice had agreed to. Counseling. Custody of his dead sister’s pig. Making peace with Jace. Time. Distance. This trip. But he hadn’t agreed to their mother’s antics. He hadn’t agreed to dredging up the past. He hadn’t agreed to staying with someone when he knew that the only way he would be able to survive the trip was having time on his own.
“Money seems to fix everything around here,” was his softer reply as he turned away from his sister and reached into his bag for a bottle of pills. He tapped out his dose and swallowed quickly, retreating again into the bathroom to change before settling onto the mattress, which was admittedly much nicer than his bed at home.
He turned off the lamp closest to his bed and sighed as Captain curled up around his head, her muzzle resting on his temple. He was quiet for several minutes, thinking, waiting for the medicine to kick in. His salvation.
The tendrils of exhaustion started to reach for him and he sat up suddenly, looking over in his sister’s direction. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Tempe.” His words slurred together, just barely. His expression was open. The aggression lifted for the briefest of moments right before sleep would swallow him whole.
Her gaze returned to the tablet with an expert eye roll. His reply didn’t interest her. What could he possibly say? What was honestly going to be worth her time? She had work to do, and a desire to do it, so her brother’s muttered reply and his journey throughout the room fell into white noise territory.
She was absorbed back into her project, only vaguely aware of his presence on the other bed, when he spoke again. Her mind had to replay the words for her, and even with a second, clearer pass, she found herself struggling to process anything beyond harsh, immediate anger. Still, she didn’t look at him, even though, from the corner of her eye, she could see he was upright on the bed now, turned to face her. After a moment, jaw set, Temperance just shook her head and moved her tablet to the nightstand.
Her legs went over the side of the bed to slip on her shoes, and Temperance grabbed the sweater she’d removed earlier to tug it back on. She turned off the air conditioning when she entered the hotel room, but she was aware of the cold again.
At the door, just before she pulled it open and made her escape, Temperance said, “You’re twenty years too late with that, Jay.”
She didn’t bother slamming the door behind her. Temperance knew she didn’t have to.