Pepper. Orphan.

“Me??” Crutchie nearly chokes on his drink, as he’s never expected Pepper to ask him for a dance. He’s always been too clumsy for her, too slow, too much of a crip for her liking. In short, she didn’t like him. Or so he thought. But Crutchie throws all those thoughts away – at least for the time being – and a smile replaces his shocked frown. “Sure, Pep!” 

A cheerful exclamation prompts him to stand up, and extend his arms to dance. A small frown crosses his face, and he suddenly asks as his arms hang loosely at his sides: “You ain’t trickin’ me or nothin’, are ya? Not gonna leave me stranded out there, or, or try an’ trip me, will ya?”

Pepper bites back a wince at Crutchie’s far too cheerful response—she does, however, roll her eyes. “I ain’t trickin’ ya this time, promise,” she replies, lips quirking upward in a dry smile. “Plus, I can’t dance worth a damn. If anyone’s gonna trip, it’ll be me, dumbbell.”

“N-no, it’s not, that’s not stupid,” Evan told her, shaking his head. Honestly it was kind of stupid that he was asking. He just wondered if she had some of the same inclinations that he did, about what made her want to climb, if she liked being outside and linked it to nature or reaching new places and vantage points, if she liked being up high the way he did, or if it was something else. He was the one that sounded stupid.

Pepper raised her eyebrows, shooting Evan a disbelieving look. “Really?” With a soft sigh, she buried her hands deeper into her tattered hoodie pockets—this was exactly one of those times when she would scamper up a fire escape and sit up above the blaring city sounds and just hide from the rest of the world for a moment.

          ❛    yeah, well.  home now.  safe and sound and PEACHY KEEN. let’s go.     ❜

     he sighs,    and a hand runs through gelled hair, crinkling it, messing it up only further.     ( in the back of his mind: he needs to shower, at least before court tomorrow.  but he pushes the thought away just as fast as it occurs to him. )    he can’t fight callahan without elle wanting to.  and he doesn’t doubt this is the first time this has happened - a disgusting thought that makes him even further sick to his stomach - but he can’t prove anything, he’s got no case.

     had he been in better spirits, emmett probably would’ve smiled at his daughter’s actions.  right now, he’s exhausted.  he’s frustrated, and he’s entirely avoiding the question posed.    if he starts talking about it, he’ll get worked up and get emotional.  and the last thing he wants is for pepper to see him in such a state.

            ❛     hey,  that’s the exact  OPPOSITE  of what i just told you to do.      ❜

     he minimizes the open browser window on his laptop - not giving her any ideas or any reason to prolong her travels to bed.  he’ll write it off as him trying to be a good father if she protests.    ( he just doesn’t want to trouble her with any of his issues at hand.   he can handle this. )

Pepper gives a wry smile and—more IMPORTANTLY—remains staunchly sitting beside her father. 

          “You know I ain't the best at following orders.” 

Her smile drops, eyes narrowing at the suddenly disappearing browser window. She's NOT fooled; she herself has done a fair share of hiding things to know what Emmett is doing (but unlike her, Emmett isn't selfish, or stupid, or cruel). Pepper can't help but feel some faint ANNOYANCE bubbling up inside her at the thought of Emmett hiding something from her, and the hand on his arm becomes a bit firmer, a bit more INSISTENT. 

          “You didn't answer my question, dumbbell. What's WRONG?” 

For once, she's serious; hell, she's WORRIED. In the few (wonderful) years that she's lived with Emmett, she has never seen him this...bad. Hair sticking up everywhere, empty distracted eyes, face tinged with unmistakeable nausea—Pepper would’ve thought he had the FLU if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't sneezing or coughing everywhere. She leans closer, locking tired brown eyes with even more tired blue eyes. 

THE SONG OF FORGETTING: Accepting

Pepper blinked awake, grimacing at the familiar HARSHhospital lighting above her. Her head POUNDED;tentatively, she lifted a hand to gently prod the thinkbandages around her skull. Tubes and wires and othershit wove around her—she didn’t bother looking at thedully beeping monitors and IV beside her bed. 

Her eyes flicked over to the MAN sitting in the corner of theroom. He might have been young (ten? fifteen years older than her?) but the massive BAGS beneath his eyes made him seem years OLDER. He was probably some stuffy socialworker, if his haircut was anything to go by.

                  “Who’re YOU?”

She shook away the vague feeling that she KNEW this man.