@peanutbxtter
The Oceanic Eight.
That's what they were being called now. A press conference. Loads of questions. Even more flashing lights.
Charlie feels odd about this -- he doesn't exactly want to lie about the others, but he knew it was for their safety. Zoning out for a moment while Jack leaned forward towards his mic to answer a question, the former rocker looked over to the blonde next to him, holding a baby. Never had he thought his life would turn around the way it had -- and it nearly killed him a dozen times over for it to do so. Maybe that was his struggle. Strengthening him. That's what John had said, right?
Chewing on his thumb for a moment, it took him a beat to realize that he had been addressed with a question. Would the band be getting back together, now that he was alive and found? A brief flicker of a memory, him strung out and trying to convince his older brother for just that cause only days before his flight.
"I--" The microphone's feedback filled the silence in his answer for a moment, before his eyes traced back to Claire, then back to the waiting reporters, "It might be some time, y'know. Readjustment and all." It was a weak answer, but it was all that he had. Claire and Aaron were his priority - but singing was the dream, wasn't it? Could he balance the both? Did he want to? Sitting back in his chair, his thoughts turned over the whole idea of it, letting the next round of questions press onto someone else.
