#012.

Sua subita tristeza tinha passado. Fosse pela presença constante de Dexter ou só porque o tempo isolada tinha cumprido seu papel e era hora dela se reerguer novamente e também recuperar o tempo perdido. Por isso, tinha seguido para o apartamento de Dexter naquela tarde, usando pela segunda vez a chave que ele tinha lhe dado. Ainda lhe parecia um conceito estranho, ter a chave da casa de alguém, mas ainda sim, se levasse em consideração que mais da metade de suas coisas já se encontravam no apartamento dele há um tempo, também era quase como se fosse a casa dele ou algo assim, ela evitava pensar muito seriamente sobre o assunto. Não sabia se ele estaria por lá ou muito menos se teria tempo livre. Lucille ás vezes sentia que ocupava muito o tempo de Dexter, e se perguntava se isso o incomodava de alguma maneira, mas ele parecia nunca reclamar de ter que passar momentos ao lado dela, então, ela só assumia que se fosse uma questão ele diria alguma coisa, ou talvez ela devesse se lembrar de pergunta-lo. Abriu a porta do apartamento, olhando em volta em busca do namorado. " Dexter? " chamou fechando a porta atrás de si. " Alguma chance de você não estar super ocupado? "

ENCOUNTER JOURNAL: 012. Strawberry Jam

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Posts Involving 012 Below

where → quidditch pitch. when → the following week after 011, Friday afternoon. warnings → n/a.

Andy felt awful for having slept with someone else, even if they were divorced. The word was merely a technicality -- He’d made that clear to here again and again, yet here he was. Sleeping with Felicity was nothing short of a mistake, a drug fueled decision that came from the sight of a petite blonde standing in front his glazed eyes. He had no idea how to make any of this better, but admittedly -- He was more concerned about what Rowan would do in response. It wasn’t going to be pretty, he knew that much. Rowan had never done well with jealous, and admittedly -- Neither did he. Andy could recall the times she’d poured drinks on other women, or torched cars of Siren’s who hung on too long. The act typically led to sex against the nearest surface, and while his mind naturally went to that idea -- The guilt of having hurt her was far too prominent. He didn’t know how to make this up to her, after everything that’s happened; Add in a bruised Ryder, and all of the promises he made her while laying together in bed, and he’d made far too many complications.

In an attempt to distract himself from the guilt eating at him, Andy found himself on the couch, with a beer in hand and some bullshit reality show playing in the background. It was a good enough distraction, until the doorbell rang and pulled him from the half awake daze he’d fallen into. It’s enough to jolt him awake, an immediate concern washing over him -- He wasn’t expecting anyone, and given recent events, he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the sight he’s about to find on the other side of the door. On instinct, his hand goes for the baseball bat behind the front door, keeping it hidden as he answers the door, only to find Rowan, and a mixture of a smell of gasoline and smoke coming with her. “Oh,” comes out first, his hand letting go of the bat with a thud, tossing it back to it’s original place. His eyes never leave her, unsure of what to say. “Hey.” He eventually settles with, able to piece together what she’d spent her evening doing.