Charlie Hall

"Alright, but you should probably shut the door first." His head tilts, following the direction of his words as though the thought alone will summon his warden. And while she’s not breathing down his neck, he thinks a shut door would probably draw her more than an open one, and that’s raised too many teenagers to hesitate on barging right in. It effectively crushes any real contemplation of trying to earn himself a repeat of that night.

He sits back, finishing the rest of his piece before wiping his hands off on his jeans. Though there’s an odd sort of pride there, that he has more of an appetite now than he did when he met her. It makes it easier to remind himself how hollowed out he’d become, to convince himself it’s not worth it just for a quick fix.

It tastes like less of a lie today. If it’s partially due to her presence, he doesn’t protest it. It’s still better to convince himself of that, that he’s more human and more worthwhile than when he’s high.

"That’s disgusting. Also a waste of pizza." He makes a face at her before he’s swinging his legs off the bed, holding up the movie she tossed at him as he heads for the TV. It’s small and used, but it’s still another thing that belongs to him, which probably says something. "You know there’s no robots in Commando, right?"

The joke makes her laugh quietly, mostly because she has no intention of the sort. And while she might muse that it would probably only aid his rehabilitation process, she also isn't quite so sure she's been very helpful to him. But how to handle a situation like this, Charlie couldn't fathom. She'd never been thrust into it before. Still, there's a desire to help Eli as best she can, and if her loyalty is too rapidly earned, it isn't something that's ever hurt her in the past. Maybe he'd be the first. She's too selfish to not take any relapse personally.

"So?" Charlie counters before waving the pizza crust in Eli's direction, "It has a high body count and some of the best lines in movie history. Also Arnie petting a deer. There's really no reason to watch this." She pauses for a moment as if lost in thought, determined to find more proof to the film that Eli is already setting up for them, even if he's complaining. "Besides, it's my favorite so shut up."

"I guess. You look good with bedhead." And if his smile’s a little bit wider it’s because he knows that first hand. Though it feels far removed from where he sits now, and she’s covered in layers of clothing that only enforce that separation. There’s a thought that follows it that he’s only seen her a handful of times since then, and this is about the best shape he’s been in. He spent Christmas decomposing on his bathroom floor. Some days he thinks he’s still there, or that this is just some temporary break in sobriety. Maybe they’re all right about him, and the second he gets set free he’ll just end up with a needle in his arm again.

It’s easier to push the thoughts out of his head now, her arm shoving him lightly in the shoulder. And if human contact is some daunting thing for her, it just makes him appreciate it for what it is. “I put pants on. So we’re even.”

He grins before shoving more pizza in his mouth and going through the collection she brought over. There’s not much in it he would argue, because cheesy action films have always been more his style. But he can’t help it when she tells him not to, glancing up with as much mock disappointment as he can manage. “But I wanted Terminator.”

Still, there's something like pride that straightens her spine, even if it's childish and unwarranted. But if she believes that Eli might have a lengthy list of women he could deem drunken mistakes and one night stands, perhaps she's fortunate to be one he remembers, and that probably has more to do with their friendship.

"Fuck you," she comments through her smile, the only thing she manages to say and perhaps she's a bit speechless, because the first remarks that had crossed her mind she wouldn't feel comfortable saying, even sarcastically. Like if her wild mane of red hair in the morning could be considered cute, then he hadn't bothered to look at the mess of his own hair in the mirror, jet black locks in some organized chaos that made it look like he'd done it on purpose. Asshole.

Biting down a joke that could land them somewhere precarious given their track record, Charlie ignores his comment about his own pants and swallows the large bite of pizza she had broken off to smother her smile with. "I will reach down your throat and take this pizza back. We're watching Commando first," Charlie threatens before grabbing the DVD and tossing it into Eli's lap with a smug grin, just to annoy him.

He feels farther removed from that man today, even if some days he still feels less than human. Sometimes he has to call Jay just to hear that this will fade, that eventually he’ll wake up and he won’t think about getting high sixty times a day. That it’ll fade to three or four, and then maybe three or four times a week. 

Eileen leaves them alone, and despite whatever he thinks of his own progress, he thinks that’s about all the trust she’ll offer him. And he wonders if she searched the bag Charlie brought before she even let him in here, but he doesn’t ask. He just watches her make herself comfortable before he settles on the end of it. The box gets put next to him, already dragging out a piece to shove in his mouth before he starts pulling at the bag. 

"Slept. Thought about shaving." He says it between a mouthful of food before he tilts his chin back, nails scratching at the thick layer of stubble that’s a good enough illustration of  how that went. And if it’s funny to him now, there are some days when he didn’t want to get out of bed to even do that much. That if his redheaded warden hadn’t made him, he probably wouldn’t have. "Watched cartoons instead. You?"

Leaning over, she wiggles a slice of pizza carefully away from the rest of the pie before capturing the end between her teeth and ripping off a large portion, her stomach grumbling to remind her there's room inside of it where the lunch she should've eaten earlier was supposed to go. "Pulled together a mediocre Arnie collection and bought pizza," she tells him, obvious facts as there's evidence of it on her bed, "Before that, cleaned up my apartment a bit and actually put a bit of effort into my appearance to hang out with a friend." She couldn't help but tease him, arm shoving his side lightly, because there's still a small reminder of just how fragile he had felt in her arms when she'd walked into the middle of his detox like she'd been wandering through the aftermath of an atomic bomb that had hit a once populated city.

She munches happily on the slice in her hand before groaning as she reaches for the plastic bag carrying a few DVDs, and she dumps the contents onto the mattress haphazardly. "We're watching Commando first," she instructs him, "You're not allowed to argue."

Still, he had almost a month under his belt now, and that had to count for something. Enough that maybe he could leave soon, and it’s not ungratefulness that summons the thought. Just a natural stubbornness and degree of independence that makes him resent the idea that he’s living here on someone else’s whims with someone else’s rules. And they’ve clashed on those multiple times since Jay dropped him off, because his mood’s always been an unstable thing, only made worse by the absence of a fix to even him out. And if some days there’s bitterness there that his warden has such a firm hand, other days there’s something closer to gratitude. 

But while the room’s a borrowed space, he can’t pretend it doesn’t feel more personal than the apartment he vacated before this. There’s a record player that Jay brought for him, probably to keep his mind off the constellation of scars that on his worst days he’d like to add to.

The knock on his door doesn’t surprise him, rolling to his feet before pulling it open. “Thanks warden.” He flashes a smile, the words less bitter than they would’ve been two weeks ago. And his attention shifts to Charlie after that, some part of him honestly surprised she’s here. He doesn’t know that he would be, in her position, but if it’s gratitude he feels, he doesn’t voice it. 

He just takes the pizza from her, tugging the lid open to see what’s on it before he makes a face. “Plain? What kind of Ninja Turtle are you?”

There's a shake of Charlie's head, red locks falling around her shoulders as she laughs and she thinks she catches a small smirk from Eileen out of the corner of her eye. But that might be too much to hope. After a quick instruction that the door is to be left open, and there's the distinct reminder of being a teenager again, the woman leaves the two of them in Eli's room. And maybe the woman trusts her more when she's a little more put together than the first time she met her, a light splash of make up upon her face and clothing more presentable. A little less hungover and a little more denim. And if the jeans on her legs and the layers of a tanktop and a long sleeve shirt are to gain points with Eileen, it's also to keep her skin covered.

Some days spark more confidence than others in her abilities, but it still strikes her that she has little control over what she can do, especially when she's angry. Which, around Eli, had been known to happen.

Tossing the small, plastic bag onto the bed, the plastic cases of DVDs clattering together, Charlie falls lazily onto Eli's bed, palms pillowing her fall and keeping her upright. And if she's too familiar with a space she had never been in, she'll blame Eli for it, as she had become to accustomed to his friendship now and that's what had her knocking on Eileen's door. Perhaps there is some sympathy there, something she thinks Eli wouldn't want her to confess aloud, but she doesn't think that's what fuels her acceptance of invitations to hang out with him. They get along, mostly. And he makes her laugh. It's a decent friendship, enjoyable at least. And if she's still grateful for the help he's given her with her power, and it's more than he probably believes, she'd still sit here in this room without that feeling.

"So, what'd you do today?" she questions kindly, legs dangling off the edge of the bed as she watches the pizza box that should probably contain a meal with more edible toppings on it.

He glances down at her briefly, wide eyes looking up at him and motions momentarily still. And he wonders if Eileen just told her to keep an eye on him, or if she’s latched onto him all by herself.

Either way, there’s some small squeeze of her hand in response. Nothing he really thinks about, because he doesn’t like kids, and he definitely doesn’t want a crying one on his hand. His head lifts, attention going back to Charlie as he smiles back at her, and if he’s not in the best place right now at least he’s not stuck watching romcoms. “Shit, I’m sorry. You want me to kidnap you?”

It’s said tongue in cheek, because he’s well aware just how loyal she is to her friends. He’s been on the receiving end of it in the most brutal way, and he’s less bitter about it today than he was at the time. And if it sounds vaguely like the planning of a date, it’s a thought easily discarded because it’s a conversation they’ve already have. Neither of them date. If their friendship passes from that into friend with benefits territory then he’s comfortable thinking that’s as far as it goes.

"Yeah, whenever. I’ve got time." He shrugs his shoulders like it doesn’t matter either way, and to some degree it doesn’t. He won’t be sitting by his phone waiting for her, but it’s true enough that he has little else to do with himself right now. No real thought what he wants to do, and maybe the first will change when the second does. For the moment it seems enough that he can scratch days off a calender since his last hit, and maybe when he’s looking at more than two weeks filled up with X’s then he’ll put more genuine thought into it.

There's a shrug of Charlie's shoulders as he offers to kidnap her and she's almost tempted to say yes. But she couldn't leave Shauna alone like that and she thinks she'd probably be intruding upon some family time. Eileen doesn't seem to trust her but why should she? They had only just met and she's housing a recovering addict. With a house full of kids, apparently.

"As tempting as that sounds, I think we'll have to schedule my abduction for another time," Charlie says with a mockingly disappointed expression before she nudges his arm playfully, "Gives you more time to paste together and ransom note though. Positives."

There's a quick laugh before the sound of a squeaky cart rounds the corner and it's the older woman returning, more things in her cart and her stern face reads that she's ready to go.

"Well then, I'll let you know when I do," Charlie remarks with a smile that catches her tongue between her teeth and she almost moves to hug him before thinking that might be bad timing. Eileen would probably think she's slipping something into his pocket. The little girl wouldn't let go of his hand and Eli might feel awkward, even if she had held him a few days ago while he shook in her arms.

Charlie turns a smile towards Eileen. "Nice meeting you," she offers politely before turning back towards Eli, her smile straining to show she isn't sure she's on the woman's good side. "I'll text ya," she swears before she slides back Eli and the little girl to move down the aisle.

"Fair warning, I’m probably gonna forget and just send you filthy pick up lines instead." He flashes her a grin, mostly because he thinks it’s true. That whatever smartass comment he has waiting on his tongue won’t survive the car ride back to Eileen’s. 

The words pull a small laugh from him, hoarse from disuse at this point. There’s been less to laugh at the last two weeks, and later he’ll probably feel the same. When she’s not in front of him providing some distraction and he’s left alone with his thoughts and an unfamiliar kind of anxiety. It’s hard to remember how he functioned without some form of narcotic, and he thinks the doubt that he actually can will linger for a while.

"All I’ve got the first two Terminators. You want anything else you’re gonna have to bring it yourself." And he thinks it’s luck of the draw he even has that much. A lot of this things are still in a box in Jay’s trunk, because it didn’t seem necessary at the time.

Now he wonders just what he planned on doing with himself besides sitting around plotting his escape. And if it leaves him a little more hopeful that she’s serious, he still has the urge to brace himself against disappointment. It’s only some consolation that she’s probably done enough already, that he clung onto the feeling of arms around his shoulders and fingers against the back of his neck even after she left his apartment. “Just lemme know when you’re free.”

"My Arnie films are lacking," she tells him honestly upon a forced, forlorn sigh, "But I have a few to add. If you're up for some 80s, greasy and naked Arnie action." And who wouldn't be, she thinks to herself, and she's aware she only enjoys these films because they're mostly terrible. But there's always some enjoyment in watching them with others, where it's a collective effort to mock the script writing, or lack thereof.

If the conversation is suddenly awkward, Charlie blames their drunken night together, which shouldn't make it feel tense. She had been drunk. They fucked on her table. The end. She doesn't want more from him. More means mess, and Eli probably comes with more mess than most individuals do. It'd be ideal to keep up some sexually intimate relationship without any ties, but fuck buddies never just stay fuck buddies.

And Eli is trouble, even without the drug addiction. He's the boy every girl is warned about, the one that will tear straight through a line of women til he gets to his destination. And while he'll walk away whole and unbroken, she'll be shredded in his wake. Some strange determination has always guarded Charlie from that, from being the one left behind, brokenhearted. She breaks hearts. Her's is always intact.

Still, she smiles and nods her head once. "Will do," she tells him, pulling the basket up to cradle it in the crook of her arm, "Been working a shit ton recently, but maybe my next day off? We'll figure it out."

A quiet noise of frustration escapes Eli’s lips, his head tipping back because it feels like they’re playing some game right now and he’s losing. He’s too crude too regularly to think of any response that isn’t too filthy for young ears. And the presence at his side, small fingers pressing into his palm, guarantees that she’s close enough to hear it. "That’s not fair. I have a really good comeback for that too."

And those aside, the words ‘prove it’ are next on his tongue, and he thinks it’s not a challenge he should give her now. Not when chances are he’ll just end up the more frustrated of the two of them.

Thoughts of his effective grounding and the celibacy that’s been momentarily forced on him, there’s still a playfulness to his tone. Something familiar about bad jokes and flirtatious banter that’s passed between them from the day he met her. He’s sure it says something about him that it makes him feel more like himself, that if he’s still something less than human he’s still something when he’s not shooting poison into his veins. That everything he used to be, he can be again.

Maybe it’ll get easier when he’s not on something like lockdown twenty-four hours a day, when he can leave the house without a chaperone. When Jay will start trusting him with work and he can prove that he’s capable of coming back without fresh track marks on his arms. He knows it’s not today. It’s not even a question.

"You can text me it later," Charlie reasons with him, mostly because she's curious as to what his comeback had been, if he really had one at all. She doesn't think she's ever seen Eli speechless and there's some strange fire inside her to be the cause of it. Because if he has a comment for everything, she wants to shock him just enough that he's rattled for a moment. She couldn't back down from something like a challenge. She'll always feel the need, she thinks, to constantly prove herself.

There's a glittering laugh from her at the mention of her film marathon, the joke unexpected, and she nods her head vigorously in agreement. And while she thinks to tell him that the point is really to hang out with a friend, someone who needs distractions right now more than ever, she continues along with the jokes, "And you aren't? It sounds like the best marathon ever. Who wouldn't be dead set on it?"

A shrug of her shoulders and an incredulous look plastered upon her face is added for dramatic effect as she gazes at her surroundings, daring anyone to step forward and state they wouldn't want to watch a Schwarzenegger marathon.

But there’s an odd sort of comfort about the moment, something that feels more like when he first met her. Even if he was high half the time and drunk the other half, he’d at least been something like a person. Not the man he used to be, but maybe it’s stupid to think he’ll ever get there again. It’s too soon for him to embrace anything like hope, when later he thinks he’ll start to sweat and he’ll wonder what’s really stopping him from climbing out the god damn window. 

"Only if you’re loud about it." He smirks when he says it, though it’s an effort to bite off the comment about ball gags that he wants to follow it up with. The presence of small fingers around his hand are enough of a deterrent, and as it is he thinks he’ll be sending her a text later if he gets asked about his coin collection.

"I never got a solid answer on that or the strippergram." And that one does have him glancing over his shoulder, like Eileen will appear to twist his ear for mentioning strippers around her two youngest.

Instead his gaze just settles on the one on the floor, and he doesn’t ask where she got the pen she’s drawing with or what she’s putting on the back of the box. And while there’s the thought that Eileen might not appreciate it, at least it’s keeping her quiet and keeping her busy so he doesn’t have one hanging off the other hand. 

Charlie hisses air through her teeth as her nose crinkles and she shakes her head. "I don't know if I can do that," she replies with a mask of sincerity, "I just really appreciate a good coin collection. And I want everyone to know about it." Her lips part in a large, cheeky grin, sly like a cat's, and this feels more normal for them. Bad jokes, irreverent comments. Their inappropriate humor had been like a bonding force for the two of them, and this feels more natural to her. Like she has less cause for concern, even if she's aware Eli is far from living a sober lifestyle.

She nudges his arm with hers in admonishment when he mentions strippergram, because they are still in the presence of children and perhaps that's not a term Eileen would enjoy hearing repeated back to her. Then again, it's probably better she believe Charlie to be a strippergram than someone passing off small baggies of white powder to Eli. 

And the middle-aged woman is probably her biggest concern for visiting Eli. She'd watch them like a hawk. And while Charlie doesn't need a promise of sex to hang out with him, because she means it when she says they're friends, she still feels anxious at feeling somewhat trapped. It'd be like high school all over again, hoping to God someone's parents don't walk in and wonder why the two of them have their hands under the blankets. And perhaps, that would also be a thrill all by itself.

"Well, I'm sure as long as she gets to pat me down real good, she'll be fine with at least letting me hang out for a bit. Watch a film or something. Eat pizza, I don't know," Charlie offers with a shrug, as if there's the hope that attempting to make more solid plans right now means they'll actually follow through on them.

The girl holding onto his hand starts to sway a little back and forth, enough to make him glance down at her. And if anything there’s more confusion there, why she beams back up at him instead of shrinking away. It’s enough that he almost starts yelling for Eileen, but he doubts the woman will come just because he called unless the place is on fire.

The words have him glancing back up, because at least if she’s holding onto him than he knows where she is. And no matter how much he dislikes the responsibility, there’s no desire in him to lose Eileen’s children. Whatever trust he’s being offered now by something resembling a moment alone with Charlie, he thinks the disappearance of one or both of them would end in a swift death to his freedom. If not just a swift death in general.

But the words have his smile widening, more honest than they’ve been in a while. Maybe it says something that today he’s amused, and if it helps that she didn’t tell him no. “Oh no. I got my phone back.” He doesn’t know whose benefit it was for that Jay didn’t touch any of his messages, but they’d all been waiting for him like she promised. “And I would be more than happy to prove to you the difference between me and a roll of pennies.” 

It's added onto by the fact he'd been granted permission to use his phone once again. And perhaps there's some quick flood of relief that any drunk messages she had thought about sending him on New Year's Eve had never happened. That would've been embarrassing.

His last words feel more like Eli, at least the guy she's known for the past few months. And it has her attempting to lick the smile off of her lips, but it only helps widen it. Eli had, in fact, read the text messages and at least she could claim they'd been creative and it's why he couldn't be angry with her over them.

A few inappropriate jokes race through Charlie's mind, all censored by the presence of children who probably wouldn't appreciate a joke about Eli having a little orphan Annie kink if he wants to sleep with her in some woman's home filled with the children she's collected. "Uh huh," is all Charlie says for a moment with a smug smirk and a slow nod of her head.

"Won't your warden mind visitors?" Charlie questions, and if there's something in her tone that's suggestive, it's also an honest question, "Pretty sure she wouldn't approve of you sharing your coin collection under her roof."

"I’m not watching them." He calls it after the woman’s retreating back, not expecting her to respond or to care what he wants in the slightest. She’s made it clear so far that he’s lost the right to make any decisions for himself, and when he’s less bitter and more sober he might agree with her. If it’s in his nature to be destructive, he thinks most of it has been taken out on himself.

Either way, his attention drops to the two girls for a moment, one of which decided she wants to hold his hand. He purses his lips at her, some look of annoyance as she pulls it free from where it’s crossed over his chest and holds it in both of his. 

"She’s uh, a friend of Jay’s." It takes him a second to put the words together before he lifts his head to focus on her again. And he’s not sure if she needs the explanation or not.  "She runs a foster home kind of thing. So that’s where I’m at. If you wanted to visit. If not, that’s cool."

One of the girls slides her hand inside Eli's and Charlie's shoulders jump with a snort of laughter. The other girl picks up a box of Crunch Berries and begins reading the labels, before realizing there's games on the back of it. Which causes her to sit on the floor and begin drawing a line through a maze. But the other still hangs onto Eli, eyes blinking up at him with innocent sweetness and a bright smile on her lips. Maybe she'd been scared to be without Eileen, but she looks at Eli with something like adoration that keeps Charlie grinning in amusement.

The fact the woman knows Jay seems to be less shocking than perhaps it should've been. But Charlie instantly believes the woman must have an ability too and that's why she shows little fear when standing before Eli. Like she knows exactly how to take him out, and perhaps she does. And it explains the children, because the two girls look nothing like her.

But Charlie's distracted by the offer to stop into the foster home and visit him. Perhaps she's touched, and if it cements in her that they have some form of friendship, that he isn't done speaking to her just because they've drunkenly screwed around, then she reminds herself that she doesn't believe his friendship is given out lightly. "Yeah," she states with a smile and a nod, "I'd say text me the address but you're without a phone. And probably for the best." Charlie cringes then. "Because I still don't want you to see those creative and hilarious insults I sent you."

He flashes her a smile, rocking back on his feet before his hands pull out of his pockets to cross over his chest. Maybe he still can’t hold still, but as side effects go, it’s still better than the one he’s already made it through. Enough that there’s a small laugh at her words, another nod of agreement. “Makes me feel better.”

The question has him looking over his shoulder, though he doubts he really needs to. The sharp glare directed at him just has him offering a smile in return before he turns back to Charlie. And he wonders if the woman’s going to want to pat him down after this, or the redhead in front of him, and no matter how hilarious that might be ti has a sigh escaping him. His hand comes up, scrubbing at his hair because there’s something like embarrassment there.

He’s not used to this kind of situation, where his life’s not his own. It’s been a decade since he left home and he hasn’t answered to anyone except his brother. Now he’s at the mercy of the woman behind him, no real place of his own, none of the same freedoms. And if the scars on his arms are a testament to why, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when he’s standing here with Charlie. “Ah, yeah. That would be my warden.” 

She takes a step forward to lean into Eli. "I think she could kick your ass," she mutters to Eli before stepping to the side as the warden wheels the cart over, followed by two young girls, one of them she recognizes from choosing between cereal.

"Hi," Charlie greets with a large grin, shifting the basket in her arms to hold out her right hand towards the cross woman who regards her skeptically, "I'm Charlie. One of Eli's friends." The clarification seems needed, because the woman probably suspects her of passing along drugs to Eli, to be the cause of his relapse. And if she wants to be anything to him at all, that's not something she'd prefer.

The older woman grasps her hand in her own, a strong shake that's slightly intimidated but perhaps it has Charlie's smile widening. She introduces herself as Eileen before telling the girls to wait here while she continues shopping. Perhaps young faces are a guilt trip. Or just tiny snitches.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, pushing the thoughts aside, because it’s not like he can really ask right now. Not in the middle of the supermarket. But it’s some reminder that he has his phone back, and even if he’s bound and chained to Eileen’s house, it doesn’t mean he can’t call her. 

But the thoughts are something closer to optimistic, and he doesn’t cling to them for long. Hope still seems fleeting and too far from his grasp right now, not when he thinks just as much that she won’t want much to do with him. 

"Alright, but can I pretend anyway?" The words are closer to playful, more of his humor back in place when he can stand here and talk to her without feeling like he’s shattering. He’s still not back to where he was, or where he could be, but thirteen days is better than five. "It all looks very sorority in my head."

He shifts on his feet, an unconscious positioning of himself between her and Eileen, though it’s nothing he’s aware of when he does it. And if he had, he couldn’t have said why, except to save himself some small embarrassment from two women who are less than subtle with their opinions. “Well that’s bullshit. What about Die Hard? Rambo?” 

She nods along with Eli's suggestions, agreeing they could be put on her list of break up films. "Yeah, totally. Because when an asshole breaks up with you, you wanna watch sweaty, muscle-y men ripping people's faces off and shooting everyone a thousand times with giant machine guns. And then feeding baby deers. Like Commando," Charlie remarks, a slight pout to her lips at the thought of the cute baby deer scene, which had been ridiculous for an action film like that.

Movement catches her eyes however, an older woman with red hair stopping as she turned the corner, gaze like a hawk upon Eli and lips a thin, tight line. "Uhm," Charlie stalls, humming in the back of her throat as her stare darts between Eli and the other woman, "Do you know her?"

"She’s lying. They’re not better," he calls after the girl, but she’s either not listening or doesn’t care. He doesn’t know how children think. It has him making a face before he turns back around to face Charlie, uncomfortably aware of the three people behind him.

It has him straining slightly, and if there’s some desire to appear more in control of his life this time, he can blame the faint embarrassment for the state she’d seen him in at his apartment. Pained, jonesing, clinging to her in some desperate need for comfort, and if those things are still present now it’s at least to a lesser degree.

But whatever cool he’s trying to maintain, the words shatter it, coughing at the words before he’s shaking his head. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder after the girl in question, and whether she’s already aware of it or not, he says the words quickly. Because the thought of him as a father is just a terrifying one. “Hey, no. That’s not mine.” 

But it gives him a moment to study her, the rumpled hair that reminds him pleasantly of how she’d looked the morning after. It’s enough to put a small smile on his face, though it doesn’t last, some jealousy making him wonder if there’s a good reason for that. Sarcasm and inappropriate humor always comes easier. “You on your way to a sleepover? All girls? Feather pillows?”

Maybe he looks better, more in control, but she doesn't assume that means he is. Charlie couldn't guess what day he's on, but maybe it all just feels like day one. Still, there's something like relief at his appearance, even if he might look bored out of his mind. He appears less hollow, like his bones and muscles are slowly starting to regenerate inside his skin.

A smirk forms to her lips at the slightly flustered reply Eli gives her, but she had guessed the little girl doesn't belong to him. Why, she could say. Perhaps it just seems unlike Eli to have any kids. Or ones he knows of or wants to raise, and she feels a bit guilty for that thought. But considering of the hole he's dug himself into, she thinks there's some validity to it.

His question, however, makes her self conscious about her appearance once more. And there's some words of advice floating around her head from her mother, that she should always look her best. That's probably not now with face clear of make up and hair unmanageable that she couldn't be bothered with it. Her fingers rake through the curls subconsciously as she smiles.

"Yeah, sorta," she admits with a shrug, "Probably more tears than you're fantasizing about. Friend got dumped. She requested junk food and shitty rom coms that I'd prefer not to watch. But she didn't approve of my Arnold Schwarzenegger marathon idea."

He just trails along behind Eileen and the two girls she’d brought with her, less interested in the grocery store and more interested in how far he was from some place more interesting. Probably more dangerous. And it leaves his skin crawling, some self-loathing filtering in because he can’t just turn it off. He can’t stop his head from going down that path, from thinking how quickly he can go from thirteen days to zero.

"What kind do you want?" The words are high pitched, the sound of small feet on tile greeting his ears as one of the girls runs up to him. Becky maybe. He can’t remember their names yet. Her hands hold up two boxes of cereal and he scans them disinterestedly. 

"I don’t care." And it’s only afterwards he thinks it’s sharper than an eight year old deserves. And there’s no doubt that if his attention shifted to the Mama Bear ten feet away then she’d be giving him a look that said exactly that. Possibly followed by a smack upside the head. There’s no fear in him of her or anyone, but there’s still no real desire to piss her off either. So he plasters the closest he has to a smile on his lips before he nods his head at the box. "Lucky Charms. They’re magically delicious, yeah?"

She might be a bad friend, because her first thought had been to complain. She hadn't wanted to crawl out of the warmth of her covers and console a grieving friend over a lost relationship, with an asshole she never really liked to begin with. Instead, Charlie had dragged herself out of bed.

Unfamiliar with the layout of the market, Charlie wanders down an aisle in search of other junk food snack to get them through the day. Four containers of ice cream sit inside the basket she carries in the crook of her elbow and there's a confused frown on her face when she stares at the rows of cereal. This isn't where soda would be.

A little girl chimes a question at someone else in the aisle, voice bright and clear as children's voices often are. But the response the little girl gets comes from a familiar tone. It has Charlie's cheeks warming, slightly embarrassed by the mess of curls hanging unbrushed around her shoulders and the yoga pants she had pulled on just to leave the house. She had put little effort into her appearance, expecting to be curled up on Shauna's couch with sappy romance films that she hates.

With a smirk, she pulls a box from off the shelf and walks over to the little girl, holding the choice out to her. "Crunch Berries are better," she informs the small girl, whose eyes light up with something she apparently hasn't tried. She tucks the Lucky Charms under her arm and grabs the box from Charlie before skipping off.

"Leave you alone for a few days and you've reproduced."

He still wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close as she’ll let him before his forehead settles on her shoulder. And he can’t stop his body from trembling now, too much weakness and strain on his system from trying to sweat out the poison he’s filled his blood with for years. If it’s pathetic the way his fingers twist in his shirt, the way he clings to her, even feeling shame for that feels like too much effort right now. He cares less about embarrassment and more about whatever he can hold onto to try and ease what he’s done to himself.

His eyes crush close, head nodding when she says she can’t make it stop. And there’s no real thought that she could, no bitterness when she says it’s nothing she can give him. He knows that, knows it’ll take time and she’s just caught him at a bad one. Jay won’t let him have painkillers or vodka or anything else that might take the pain away before it might destroy him just as quickly. And it doesn’t escape him that it’s how this started, because he just didn’t want to hurt anymore.

The words have a small snort of laughter escaping him, hands tightening briefly in her shirt. There’s no real thought that she’s serious, and he hates that he’s in so many pieces he doesn’t fully contemplate the words. Chances are he’ll try and take her up on it later, he’ll throw out some line about really needing comfort, but that’s all contingent on him staying sober. And he thinks right now that if he doesn’t, whatever friendship they’ve formed won’t last beyond it.

"You know the worst blowjob I ever had?" His head’s still pressed against the shoulder, and if it muffles the words, it’s a bad joke anyway. "It was awesome."

Any shift he makes just prompts Charlie to hold him tighter, to form to whatever shape he needs her to be right now. And if she's standing in his apartment now because Eli's an immovable force and she's too stubborn to conform to another's fury than she thinks it's also what makes her flexible now. That for all the people who let her get away with pride and selfishness, he stands up to her, regardless of who is right, who is wrong, and despite knowing her for only a few months.

Eli's laughter causes relief to flood through her system, because it seems like a good sign that he can laugh, even if it's breathy and weak against her neck. But it's still there, a subtle shift in his shoulders that isn't due to his shaking but because he found some humor in her joke, even if it hadn't been the funniest or perhaps it had just been poor timing. But Eli always seems to appreciate that.

"Challenge accepted," she replies quickly, a smile forming to her lips as she holds her friend together so he doesn't break into tiny little pieces. He might feel like he's already shattered, but if she can still wrap her arms around him, then he has one thing, at least, to prove that he isn't.