Re: Quicklog, DC: Clem M/Shane A
[Clem didn't hear that destruction of her pretty little door, not from clear across the apartment. She was still all dolled up for dancing, heels kicked over by the couch and something pint and sweet in a pretty glass between her fingers. She was at the window, looking on down at this city that was home now, and wondering how she felt about things. She couldn't tell yet if she still hated every damn thing, but she knew it was better than it had been on waking that morning. Counted for something, she reckoned.
Now, Clem wasn't bad at her drinking. She wasn't the fall down kind, and she didn't get sick on shoes. Worst she'd ever been was in that bar with Graham and Shane, and even then she wasn't sloppy as could be. There were lines that crossed being pretty, and Clem had spent the whole of her life minding those lines and staying clear of them. She was just gone enough to not be hard, no anger in her face and a softer smile to go with the soft color of the drink she was sipping on.
Music was playing, slow and sexy, and she looked over as Shane walked into the space that looked all wrong for him in those clothes he liked so well. She looked past him at the door, and she looked years younger than she ought, but her roll of eyes when she looked back at him was all her.] You bring some paint to fix that right up, honey?