Re: Great Gatsby: Jude/Clem/Shane/Graham
Conversation wasn't easy after months spent in Hell. She wasn't sure anyone would understand that hadn't been there, and she didn't want to think on it a lick, not to explain, not to make folks understand. But small talk felt like working, and she wanted to be normal, but she didn't know how to do it yet. Few days back, and there'd been a man starting to thrust into her hard, and she'd been bruises over bruises, dying just around the corner after months of dead things and lost humanity. There wasn't a soul could walk away from that and be normal and smiles. She was the last person in the world who would wallow in a thing, but she wasn't ready.
She pressed back against the doorway so hard her shoulder cracked as it impacted, but she didn't even flinch, willing numb beyond skin deep. That no, Clementine felt like too much conflict, and she couldn't do conflict. She was a flutter of hand, another one of her momma's affectations and another tuck of hair that hadn't gone nowhere in the last few minutes. The mink was still held in a vise. "I don't want arguing. Can we not have arguing?" she asked, all shot nerves and the kind of drama on her bruised face befitting a woman calling for her smelling salts from a real plush chaise.
Her expression was pleading, Blanche DuBois relying on the kindness of strangers. "Let's all be friends. Do you reckon we can do that?"