#cleosfisher

Becky had been searching for Cleo for quite some time now during the party and finally she had found her best friend. She knew that what she was about to do was rather rude to the people that were around Cleo right now, but well… It was urgent. “I’m sorry everyone, I’m going to steal Morticia away from you for a moment,” the brunette let the other people know before she took Cleo by the hand and led her away from the busy crowd so they could talk better. “Okay, firstly… Why did I have to learn from Silas that you were accompanying him on a camping trip? Secondly… Since when do you go camping? And lastly; spill all the details, miss Addams.”

John has spent the last ten minutes listening to some drunk guy go on and on about how he believes the government is concealing time travel. At first, John was interested. That’s until this man had started going on about how he’d go back and time and “bang” Marie Antoinette. Needless to say, he loses John in a matter of minutes.

Then, suddenly, a saving grace. Cleo comes into view and he somehow finds a way to excuse himself, padding over towards her. Teasingly, he pinches her arm as he circles around to face her, stopping the blonde in her tracks. At first, he goes to make some joke about one thing or another but his intentions soon shift when he looks to Cleo. Maybe it was their pseudo-sibling connection, but something inside the cavity of John’s chest tightens at the sight of her. Light eyes look to her hands. Empty. “No baseball bat, that’s a good sign...” His head cants to the side, “What happened?”

After a long day of dealing with an elderly man who John thinks might be out of his mind, he just wanted to sleep. Fixing up old sea boats owned by rich old men wasn’t the way he thought he’d spend the rest of his thirties, truth be told. Usually, he was relatively at ease with this much, but today simply wasn’t one of those days. 

The back of his head rests carefully on his pillow. The sheets adorning his bed were some random pair Blake had picked out for him when he got this place. There were decorative leaves, twigs, and trees lining them, something that John can’t decipher if he likes or not. At least they were comfortable. His eyes soon drift to the ceiling as the tiredness washing over his body becomes more prominent. Though, just as he’s about to settle into his bed, his front door opens. For once, he’s not paranoid at the idea of an intruder. Not when only Cleo had a key. 

It’s not long before she makes herself known. Of course, in the most Cleo way possible. Loud and in charge. “If I told you that I was dead, would you believe me?” John calls from his bedroom, looking to the doorway.