Wayne Manor was maybe bigger than her daddy's house in England. Not by much, but she thought it might could be, and the layout was real similar. It was classic wealth, closed rooms and studies and a whole lot of warm woods. It was nothing her momma's manse in Savannah, and it didn't look a thing like any of the places Clem had called home recent. Even Blake's place next door didn't scream old wealth like this place did, and there was something soothing about the familiarity of too much damn money that was old and secure.
Dick's car, too, was soothing in a way that made her think of growing up and being wild. Rumble and loud as could be, it wasn't the kind of car someone working 9-5 could afford, and she'd never been happier to see a thing than she was to see it pull up in front of Blake's.
She knew she looked a wreck, and she wasn't up to talking. She was a bad crier, which her momma had always told her needed to be worked on. She hiccuped, and her nose got red, and her eyes got puffy. None of the Silver Screen greats would dream of getting splotchy when they wept, and even her momma had managed to look pretty as celluloid at Lore's funeral. But Clem wasn't a good crier, and her momma always said folks would want to send her off, rather than give her whatever she was crying for. But Clem didn't hardly cry, and her life wasn't about weeping, so she hadn't perfected the stage cry. Today wasn't the day for learning, neither.
She was quiet the short ride over, and she was hush as she walked down the halls of Wayne Manor in the only pair of clothes she had with her. Jeans a t-shirt, and it wasn't really much her, but it was clean and that was something. There hadn't been time to weasel shopping out of Amelia before going, which was a real shame.
She had nothing with her at all, and she kissed Dick on the cheek when he showed her to a big old room that was obviously his. Blue, and she figured out already that he liked the color real well. But she was grateful to him, and she closed the door behind herself without knowing she might cause him trouble by being there.
Truth be told, she was feeling pretty damn sorry for herself, and she wasn't thinking about anything else just then. Selfish as could be, and she didn't think this could hurt like it did. But she could still see Lore smiling in all those memories, alive and vibrant, and then covered in so much blood that she didn't look like herself and all. And Clem hadn't seen her sister for years before her death. She'd been just a thing of a girl, and her momma was too dramatic to keep photos. It was more dramatic for her momma tell everyone she'd burned Lore's pictures in the fireplace in her grief. A lie, but Clem hadn't realized how much she'd grown to look like her sister. Shane said, and she waved it off, vain and disbelieving, but there wasn't a bit of pretending now.
Miserable as could be, she drew the curtains on the bedroom that was brown and blues, and something that felt messy, like a man that came sometimes and felt comfortable to leave his life strewn all over in bits. She bathed, skin going warm-water red to match her tearstained cheeks, and she found a pair of blue pajama pants and t-shirt in a drawer. Dick's, and way too big for her real petite frame, but she tied fabric at the hip, and she crawled into the bed and drew back the soft blankets.
She didn't know how long she was curled there, thinking back on things and crying herself dry. But the sun was rising up by the time she finally closed her eyes, exhausted, and slept.