Re: Gatsby: Clementine/Jude
Clem didn't notice undercurrents of any kind right off. Maybe it was the medicines they were giving her, and she'd had to turn off all her doctor training, because nothing here was right and modern. But they had fluids all the same, and she needed that more than she needed anything else.
Jude looked right and fine to her. Not bleeding, not dying, rich as could be and that was what he was supposed to look like. He wasn't made for looking weak or sick or blood-slumped against a door. She smiled at him, real tired and a wince when the grin pulled on her split lip. She didn't mind him touching at her; that was just fine, though she'd screamed a fit at the doctors earlier, making the nurses come help her get washed and cleaned up before anyone could do a thing to her.
But Jude, she didn't mind Jude.
"I'm fine. Nothing did happen. Just a scratch or two," she said, denial in every accented word. "You get me sent to your house until Graham comes for me." She wasn't asking; she was telling. No point in staying in this place, and Jude's would be just fine. She wanted a softer bed and a tub and some real coffee on a tray.