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Shannon Rutherford (ballerinadreams) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

Shannon shook her head to push away the memory. She hadn't been staring at Claire because Claire had been dressing, but it might've actually been better if that had been the reason. Shannon had been staring because Claire had been missing. Because she had had no idea that she'd been gone, that she had been in the plane crash, or that she had developed some relationships with other people on the Island. The parallel made her think of Dean and that bothered her even more. Twice, she'd seen people with amnesia and in two separate places. Twice, it seemed, she'd somehow dodged the bullet. She wondered how lonely and frightening that must be; not to know the people who surrounded and knew you. A pang of pity for both of them hit her and she had to physically shake her head again in order to shake it off. This was supposed to be fun. She was supposed to be getting her mind off the terrible things around her.

Leo's comment about the shirt had successfully pulled her out of her train of thought and she snorted back a laugh. "I'm so glad," Shannon said. "It would hurt my feelings, of course, if you didn't like it," she added with a laugh.

After she'd complained that she looked like a hooker, Leo started to try to tell her that it couldn't be that bad and she raised her eyebrows incredulously, smirking at him when he cut himself off as he turned to see for himself. Tipping her head just slightly to the side, Shannon put a hand on her hip and laughed. "Oh, I don't know if radiant is the word for it, mon ami..." she reproached playfully. "I'll take the beautiful compliment, though; that might actually be true," she added with a wink. Nodding, Shannon laughed again. "I can actually breathe," she said, "if just barely."