WHO: Claire Bennet (future), Dean Winchester WHERE: Winchester & co house WHEN: Tuesday, January 3; after this, so afternoonish WHAT: Claire knows Dean needs to talk and she needs to as well. RATING: TBD STATUS: thread; in-progress
Claire leaned her head back against the back of the sofa in the upstairs living room, looking at the ceiling for a long moment before sighing. "So now Ben knows, but it's still not everything," she said, twirling the glass in her hand before lifting her head again, draining the glass and reaching for the pitcher on the coffee table.
The coping mechanisms of the eldest Winchester, something that had been new to her – consuming this much alcohol so ridiculously often – when they first started being friends, but quickly just became the norm. In terms of alcohol and her metabolizing it, there was one thing to be said for these 'girly' drinks – they packed a punch without that 'searing the inside of her esophagus' feeling. As long as she drank them at a regular pace, she could get pretty tipsy, even officially drunk by the loosest sense. Right now, it was just the warm relaxation of enough alcohol to make the talking easier.
Dean, however, was well on his way past that, but not yet near body-part musical instruments, which was a good place for him. It meant he could talk without as much tripping up on serious/touchy topics, and it also meant he'd be even more honest than he usually already was with her, which was what she needed right now. She couldn't talk about her problem – the debate whether or not to hand over Ruby to save him, save Sam, make the angels leave everyone alone – but she could ask things that would help her make a decision.
But that wasn't the primary reason she was here – that had been to get him talking, about the Uriel chaos, about the aftermath, about whatever was on his mind – and so for now, she'd been mostly letting him talk, prompting him or leading him when it strayed close to 'feelings'.