@melnchly said ; i always believed in you, you know that? (anya for beck!)
oh. beck's hands still from the keys of her laptop and she glances over at anya. there hadn't been any sort of formal discussion about anya staying over. beck's pretty sure she's got a hotel room for the night somewhere else in the city - - - and it's not like beck asked anya not to go. but now that most of her boxes are unpacked and the furniture is set up and built, lingering around the kitchen island over a glass of wine turned into sitting on the new sofa, turned into beck sitting on her laptop while anya sits on the other end. something is playing on the tv, too low to really hear, and beck blinks.
anya's usually not the sentimental type. neither is clyde, really. that was always beck's job - - - the sensitive writer-type, the one who made photo albums and opined over things like red ladles. that thought makes her queasy and she shuffles it away. "you - - - uhm." beck looks at the empty wine glasses on her coffee table in her new trauma-induced-best-selling-memoir-purchased two bed three bath in the upper west side apartment because she can't look at anya. "you should tell the rest of the family that. we can see if it spreads." because she can't answer that with honesty. that would be too - - - mushy.
