Eloise Stamp (stampitout) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-03-22 21:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [03] march, ellie |
WHO: Eloise and O'Brien.
WHERE: The Library!
WHAT: Everyone gets up to shenanigans sometimes.
WHEN: Forward-dated to Saturday, 24 March, late late night.
RATING: TBD. Mediumish.
STATUS: In progress.
When her usual calm seemed to dip too far either way toward happiness or sadness, Ellie found herself drinking. She drank when she felt nothing, too; partly out of habit, and partly to try and feel something. Of course it was hopelessly cliche, but it seemed to work reasonably well most of the time.
The last week and a half had been difficult to navigate for someone like Ellie, who understood herself reasonably well -- well enough to make predictions, to speak with certainty -- but often felt detached from her own feelings anyway. Evan had gone out of her life as effortlessly and surreally as he'd entered it, and now it was as though he'd never been there at all. Greg had returned from out of nowhere, a familiar stranger; in some ways he'd brought her back to earth already, a direct tie to life before, reaffirming that there were other and more important things for her to worry about. Other people to take care of, who might actually want her care.
Which was why, bottle in hand, Ellie made her way to check on O'Brien. Tonight had been movie night. As expected, she had fallen asleep: sandwiched between him and Greg, listening to Luke make fun of people's haircuts on screen. It had been nice, even if it had distracted her from research -- and now that she'd spent the majority of the evening in this distraction, it felt thoroughly impossible to return to her books and notes. It was only two AM, anyway. Plenty of time to get back to things once the buzz wore off and things started looking less fuzzy around the edges.
Fuzzy. Ha.
The wine had stained her mouth, brought color to her cheeks. A wobble to her step, too, and a certain easy joy that he'd be familiar with by now. They'd spent enough nights drinking together, though by the looks of it he hadn't had anything yet today. Coloring, Ellie thought. He was coloring. She could tell, even approaching from behind. Is that really so therapeutic?
Ellie's wobbles meant that the planned sneak attack took on an earnest clumsiness, one that had her colliding with the table in her enthusiasm. "Ooh, I snuck up on you," she informed O'Brien, grinning sleepily at him as she took a seat. The movement somehow placed the end of the bottle in her mouth again; she took a swig and set it down heavily on the table in front of him, somehow managing to avoid his work of art.
"... Are you... You're coloring... My Little Pony?"