Fucking Up

Participants:

elaine_icon.gif quinn_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Fucking Up
Synopsis Amidst an argument between Sable and Quinn, Elaine returns home from Scotland.
Date January 13, 2010

Village Renaissance: Elaine and Quinn's Flat


Trudge trudge trudge, through snow becoming slush, the young woman called Sable makes her way through the streets, charting her slow, steady, grim footed course from the warmth of Delilah's apartment at the Octagon, to the promised warmth of Quinn's own place. Quinn and Elaine's place, but the latter is not present. Quinn has said as much.

So each step through snow uncleared is a step taken in the lingering uncertainty, the fear and dread that Delilah's assurances have not fully banished. It's not a fun walk, and Sable finds herself in one of those rare moods in which she finds listening to music impossible, each song she dials to on her player ringing false, feeling somehow wrong.

So it's the sound of trudge, trudge, trudge that accompanies her trek, ending only once she arrives at the front door of the Verb, battered, second-hand boots trailing melting snow and dark grit into the front hall, creating a trail all the way to Quinn's door before stopping. Fist raised. Tak tak tak, knocking. Things in threes.

Though Quinn had been the one to call Sable, in her distracted milling about her flat between tasks such as working on a song, purcheseing webspace, preparing food, and the ever present task of tending to Junko, she's actually forgotten that she asked her friend to stop by. She's too busy pulling a pizza out of the oven (a little burnt, of course. Still an improvement!) and setting it next to a warm bottle of milk to immediately notice the knocking.

Once she does, she perks up, looking over the counter and towards the door. "Sable?" she calls out in a bit of a tentative voice, hopeful sounding. Like, maybe it's not Sable. Maybe it's Elaine, come home at last! It never hurts to be hopeful, right? Coming back down flat on the ground, she wheels out from the kitchen and towards the flat door, not even bothering to look through the peep hole before she throws the door open - and her expression sinks for just a brief moment upon seeing Sable and not her wayward flatmate. Still, she smiles down at Sable, ushering her in. The flat is warm, warmer than usual, and Quinn's dressed in a thin, black lace shirt that's tightly knit enough to only be see through if you're really looking, with a pleated black skirt and a lack of shoes to match, her short hair frazzled - but this time, genuinely so, instead of the "artful" and purposeful styling she's been wearing lately.

"Heya. Glad t' see you, come on in."

Sable's first act is to step inside and give Quinn a hug about the middle, but one she disengages from before she's tempted to turn it into a cling. The worry on her face is worn clearly, Sable never being one for hiding her emotions, even if she should wish to. Cleaner than she's looked in previous days, smelling only just barely of woodsmoke, she sheds her puffy winter coat and slithers out of the BU hoodie she sports, the warm interior of the flat being more than sufficient.

"Makes two 'f us," Sable says, pushing off her boots and sidling into the entrance space, "y'all look real pretty," is said with a meekness that doesn't suggest insincerity so much as distraction, commentary being just commentary. "Still nothin', huh? Fuck I don' like this. I jus'… what the fuck is she, eh? I…"

The yellow eyed girl lifts a hand to her forehead, massaging. "It's like… I dunno. She really did up and leave, huh? She jus'… left?" The 'she' here need hardly be stated. "Near t' pisses me off, after…" she grunts, "I dunno…"

Quinn's first instinct is, much like Sable, to cling, but she lets the other woman pull away without complaint, her arms instead falling to the side as she lets out a long, looking off in the direction of the couch as Junko gives a bit of what QUinn interperts as a whine. Baby wants her bottle!

"Thanks,' is a reply given just as idly as the compliment that earned it, Quinn turning back to the corner and leaning over it so that she can retrieve said bottle, now a bit less warm than it had been - probably good for everyone, really. "Haven't heard a word. Talk t' Ygraine, who made me search Elaine's room for signs of foul play. Talked t' Magnes, who just kinda… assumed it was his fault an' left. Asked around on Pollepel, in case she decided t' run out there or got called out on Ferry work, but nothin' doin'."

Moving to the couch, Quinn plops down next to the little carrier seat Junko sits in, facing teh TV - Quinn is getting her started early on Doctor Who. "Yeah. She did. Note's here on the table still, if you want t' look at it." And situated in front of her is a brand new laptop, sitting atop the note to make sure it doesn't float away. "Whenever she shows up, I may smack her up aside the head," Quinn comments with arueful, half serious chuckle. Or kiss her. But probably smack her for making me worry."

Sable ambles over to peer at the note, as if she might somehow see something there that Quinn had not, as if her oddly colored eyes were susceptible to a reflected wavelength that would produce some proper answer. Dates, times, latitude and longitude. Something. Anything.

Nothing.

The look Sable gives the resistant little letter turns quickly sour, and its with effort that Sable turns away from it, further gazing liable to upset her to stupidity or destruction, the two reactions rarely operating independent of one another. It's Quinn, instead, who receives the bitterness the letter builds in her.

"This is jus' such fuckin' bullshit," Sable growls, face tugged into a thorough scowl, "after she fuckin'- fuckin' begged me…" Her eyes slide shut. "Shit, jus' shit, this don' make no sense. God, Quinngirl, I'm- I'm real sorry 'cause- 'cause I dunno what it comes down t'. Dunno if it's him or mebbe me," she looks up at Quinn, eyes reopening in helplessness, "'cause it might be me. 'N' that ain't fair if it's me, 'cause I told 'er I wouldn't go nowhere."

Quinn is silent as she holds the bottle so Junko can have her meal, looking between the laptop and Sable. She's certainly listening to the other woman, but it's that kind of listening where the words sit on the surface, not really penetrating through. Distracted listening, uneasy listening. Listening that Quinn normally doesn't indulge, normally wanting to give her full attention.

For once, she doesn't really want too. There's just too much going on.

When Junko has had enough, the bottle is pulled back, Quinn smiling down at the baby, indulging her for a minute with some words and a press of her finger on her nose, eliciting a giggle from the child. It's only once this is done that she stands up and sighs, speaking again.

"What is with us all?" she asks with a bit of an oddly bitter sounding laugh. "One day, I'm blaming m'self. Yesterday, Magnes. Now you?" She shakes her head, starting towards the kitchen in the aim of washigng out the empty bottle. "It is bullshit. I don't expect anyone but Elaine t' ahve the answer. I just… really hope she's willin' t' share when she gets back. I want to know for sure this isn't your fault. Or mine."

It is at the point, now, where escaping blame hurts more than blame itself. The sword of Damocles' hanging is more deadly than the sword itself. You can survive what happens, or not. Inevitability, lingering, is always fatal. It is fatality. Sable laces her fingers together, shoulders hunching against no external blow, eyes squeezing shut.

"Mebbe, like, there's shit y'all dunno 'bout…" Sable suggests, in a way that suggests that while Quinn may be in ignorance, maybe Sable has just a slight inkling, "'bout, like, Elaine 'n' me 'n', like, whatall went on- b'fore she 'n' he parted ways. I- I ain't sayin' I know f'r sure 'n' yeah- only she c'n say but… but mebbe there's like- things mebbe y' should know that mebbe I haven't, like… mentioned. Mebbe."

Quinn doesn't look back into the room, though the sounds of her washing do cease for a moment. "As far as I know, what went on between you an' her isn't any differant than what went on between me an' her. If there's somethin' that'll explain where Elaine went, I'm all for hearin' it, though." The fauct turns off, Quinn letting out a long sigh. "I'm reachin' for anythin' at this point."

It feels like getting up while wearing weights, but she does it, Sable's legs drawing her up and towards the kitchen entrance, a little, dark hair specter lingering at the threshold. Her eyes are downcast, her weight slowly shifting from foot to foot.

"Y'all… y'all know how it is with yer girl, right?" Sable says, begging immediately the relevance of introducing this topic, "how she, like, has 'er wife but, like, she loves y' too 'n' yer all, like, in love. 'N' that sounds real nice, don't it, only like… I know mebbe it don' always sit so well with you, like y' mentioned that night 'n'…" yellow eyes cut over to the wall, "well, like, mebbe it don't sit so well with Elaine either. Bein' in mebbe sorta a similar situation 'cept maybe not even so- uh- honest 'n' open?"

clink, clink

CRASH

Sable can probably see it where she stands, Quinn at the sink drying the bottle with a towel, she the glass tube slips out from her hands and she freezes. It hits once, twice on the edge of the counter, before tumbling over the edge and shattering on the ground below. She blink, and looks over at Sable, a surprised look on ehr face. "Oh." It's only a moment after that that Quinn suddenly scrambles down and begins to collect pieces of glass, remembering that, yes, something did just break at her feet. At least she's sober this time.

"I, um had no idea. Can you find the broom, please?" She falls silent again, thinking as she waits for the apparatus in question.

Sable flinches in the doorframe when the bottle shatters, recoiling like a dog towards whom a newspaper is being brandished, shoulders hunching once more. Wordless, she slinks out of the frame, out of vision, audible only in the sounds of broom retrieval, reappearing with the requested object. There is a delay at the kitchen's edge, almost as if Sable fears to walk into the room with socked feet, expecting glass shards lying in wait, karmic vengeance in a thousand vicious little slivers.

But she's been stalling much too long. And you can't stand in between forever.

Sidling into the room, extending the broom's handle at more or less the maximum possible distance while still making sure it's within her reach, Sable walks with tender feet all the same.

"Made sense, startin' out," Sable says, softly, apologetic, "she had him, 'n' I was chasin' Dee 'n' so, like… I dunno," her lips tug down at the corners, near trembling, "but now she ditched 'im 'n' me 'n' Dee 'r'…" eyes shut.

"I think I done fucked up."

Standing up to take the broom, Quinn silently moves to retrieve a dustpan that hangs on the side of the fridge. It has it's own small brush like thing, but that's just not going to cut it for this. Plus, the little pieces of glass like to get stuck in it. Crouching back down, she beigns to sweep. "Find the hand vac," she instructs next. "For the small pieces." Really, Quinn's stalling as well, but there's only so much of that she can do before the silence is just too much for her to take.

She's always hated silence.

"So." Her tone is very flat, very matter of fact. "Let me get this straight. While Elaine was dating Magnes, you an' her thought it would be a good idea t' start seein' each other on teh side, basically. An' then when they broke up, rather than take the girl waitin' int' your arms, you kept at Dee, an' now you think Elaine's upset an' left over it?" She feels pretty confident in hre assessment of the situation, her face twisting into an unpleasent expression as she speaks.

It's only when she seems to have all the big pieces of glass swept up that she looks up at Sable, eyes narrowed just a bit. "Yeah, Sable. I'd say you fucked up." There's a biting tone to her voice, just barely, when she speaks those words, standing up straight and sliding the glass into the trashcan before she resumes sweeping up what she can. "Jesus Christ," she adds in a frustrated tone. "You think you could have said somethin' about this earlier? Instead of letting me worry for god damn near a week about what I may or may not have done t' drive my flatemate away? Or what's been ailin' her that she didn't tell me?"

She gets the vacuum, maybe hoping that if she helps clean the physical mess up, the emotional one will be swept away in turn. The power of metaphor upon the waking world. But no such luck. In exchange for a vacuum, she receives a chart of what Quinn believes happened, cast unflatteringly, and even then Sable trusts Quinn is showing restraint.

"Weren't no decision," Sable says, powerless to keep the desperation of her defense from her voice, tenor of her words warbling with turbulence, "jus' suddenly was 'n'- 'n' we didn't know what t' do, so we did what best we could 'n' were quiet 'bout it," as if this were some excuse, "there w's a- a balance t' it. Weren't doin' no one no harm 'n'…" with each phrase delivered to remove guilt, the guilt only settles in deeper.

At last Sable lifts her hand to her face, covering eyes, nose and mouth. Word partially muffled. "I'm so so fuckin' sorry. It's- I didn't choose this. I chose Delilah, that was a decision. 'N'… 'n' I want her. I feel safe 'n' excited all 't once, 'n' it keeps my heart lifted up. But you- you dunno gal. I lose all sense. I love 'em both 'n'…"

And that's when it hits her. "Aw, fuck, I gone 'n' become Colette."

The hand vac goes over what appears to be the rest of the glass jsut fine, partially drowning out Sable's words. And yet, Quinn catches ever one, the words that at one poit hadn't been penetrating her desire to not deal with thngs instead sinking deeply into her mind now, mulled over in consecutive split seconds as the vac turns off, Quinn standing up with the device in hand. She doesn't move closer to Sable. She just looks at her for a moment, looking down at her like one might an inferiour being of some sort, held just slightly tilted back.

"An' how does that feel?"

It's not asked like someone who's curious, or someone who's trying to be comforting. There's a scathing quality to Quinn's voice as she speaks, arms folding across her chest. "You know, weren't you the one who told me not t' fal in love?" Quinn offers with a point, finally stepping towards Sable, but rather than stopping at her, she moves past her and back into the common room. "Weren't you the one who pushed this whole thing I just knew was a bad idea?" No mention, of course, of Quinn's compliance in it. "You've been Colette, Sable."

The Irishwoman spin back on her heel to face her shorter friend, again point a finger at her, this time wagglying it accusingly. "There's always a decision. Jesus, the moment things got like that, it should've come t' an end! Instead a', you know, stringing her along alongside her boyfriend. I mean fuck, sable! No wonder she always talked about shit like balances an' how she couldn't do what she's been doin' without me too, that it would get weird otherwise."

Well, now, it's just that- uh- you have to understand that she- you'd have to have been there and- but if only you knew how-

Nope, there's nothing. No corner for Sable to hide in, no delaying the inevitable. Fatal, always. The yellow eyed girl slowly slides into a crosslegged sit on the ground, wrapping her arms about herself like she's cold, staring vaguely at a spot on the floor that might have been the center of the glass's impact. That's how she'll remember it, at least, whether it was that spot or no.

"I- I just done fucked up," is all she has to say on the matter, right now.

"Yup."

For as much as she's glad she's sober, Quinn wishes she was a least a little drunk. Maybe then she wouldn't feel quite as she does at the moment, finger steadying as she she continues to stare at Sable. "An' you're wrong, by the way. This is nothing like what me an' Ygraine have. With what Ygraine and I have, we trust people t' know what's up. We tell them because that's how you prevent shit like this. At least, it's one way."

Coiling her finger back into a fist, Quinn looks back at the couch. "Sh-shit, I forgot about Junko…" Who is sleeping soundly in her seat on the couch, somehow not roused by the near shouting that Quinn has emitted at several point. Making her way back to the front, Quinn bends over and gives the child a look over, confirming that she is, indeed, asleep and breathing, before she stands back upright. "I don't know what's more galling, Sable. An' I don't want you t' think I'm being hateful or anythin'," though she certianly does seem angry, "but that you, of all people - you, as wonderful as you can be - keep findin' ways t' hurt people without even trying. That's what makes you Colette. More than anythin' else. Or the fact that you didn't think t' tell anyone." She's laying it on thick. She knows she doesn't need to, but something more than anger is driving her.

There's not much of what you'd call fight left in Sable. She's gripping her ankles and hunched over her legs, like she's tensing up to protect against a whipping. Her eyes are shut tight and she rocks, very slightly, back and forth, a semi-autistic, regressive gesture that - combined with her smallness - makes her appear younger than she is.

It's a very primitive defence she's erected. Her mind chewing her up, though, where she doesn't feel numb. She still doesn't say anythig.

"Christ," Is echoed again by Quinn, hands rubbinf down her face, narrowed eyes emerging again from underneath. "I just can't believe…" Quinn starts , louder than before by a wide margin as she aproaches Sable at last, finger brandished again and aimed at Sable like a gun pointed at her heart. Like Quinn's going in for the kill. "That would would go all this time without saying a thing t' anyone else! What about the other people who might have emotional investment in all a' this!"

It's practically yelled, and then Quinn just freezes, her expression faltering. It's a moment later when Junko starts crying, startled awake by the noise.

Those last words. Sable's head cranes back up. Her eyes are reddish, though she doesn't look like she's actually crying, and she looks stricken, awfully pale. But her eyes narrow somewhat.

"Whatall d' y' mean, other people?"

Quinn shies back a bit from Sable, withdrawing the finger that had been aimed to poke at her chest. Wrinkling her nose, she looks off to the side, looking much more uneasy all of sudden. Too late to take words back, after all.

"What do y' think it means," she replies in a tone to match her shift in attitude.

"I think it means mebbe, since I got my cards all out on th' table," Sable says, taking a moment to sniffle just slightly, "that you ought do me th' courtesy 'f layin' yer own down. If honesty 'n' truth tellin' are th' ideal. And I think yer right t' say so. But it's gotta go both ways."

Her hands clenching into tighter balls than they already were, Quinn's shoulders slump, and all her "holier than thou" righteousness and her looking down on sable (literally and figuratively), the musician now just finds herself staring down at the floor in front of her. "You're not the only one who sees somehin' special in Elaine, you know," she says quietly. Never a moment taken to look over towards the crying baby.

At first Sable doesn't really compute what it is Quinn just said. Of course she sees something special in Elaine. Elaine is special! But then she pulls herself just slightly out of total alignment with her narcissism and realizes… "Y'all feel th' same way I do?"

"You're smart enough t' figure that out, Sable," Quinn replies, still quiet. It's hard to just come out and say it, sometimes, but in this instance more than ever. It was hard enough to admit it to Ygraine. "How could I not be, after all this time." Her eyes close, her hand raising up over her face as she turns away, heading back to the couch. She needs to appease Junko. Get her back to sleep.

Sable slowly, very slowly, clambers to her feet, shaken loose from the singularity of her shame. She follows Quinn at a distance, pausing in the doorframe. "Y'all need help with th' squirt?" she asks, quietly, "gettin' re-familiarized with handlin' th' little bastards."

One seven hour flight later, and Elaine's found herself at the door to her apartment, suitcase rolled behind her. Really, she was hoping that no one would be there, that she could just slip in and have a few moments to collect her thoughts. So when the door is quickly unlocked and pushed open, she's not perfectly comfortable because the apartment isn't empty. The first person, however, she ends up noticing is Junko. "Shit. I was supposed to watch the baby." She murmurs, clumsily pulling her suitcase after her.

QUinn is kneeling in front of Junko, trying to woo the baby back to sleep, more or less ignoring Sable's inquiry as she coos and talks to the baby, calming her from crying just as the door opens, and Quinn jumps almsot enough to rouse her back into her fit, but thankfully Junko remains quiet, at least for the moment. Her head snaps towards the door, watching Elaine with absolute disbelief. Her timing is just… the worst thing ever. She purses her lips, eyeing her for a minute. "'s okay. I've got it handled," she replies, watching Elaine carefully, like it might not really be her at all.

Speak of the devil, and the devil's been what Sable's called Elaine before, one in disguise. The dark haired girl stands stalk still, similarly shocked into immobility. But her mouth frees itself from paralysis, often the part of her that charges ahead recklessly. "Y'all wanna tell us where y' been, love?" is said with a near flatness of tone.

There's an inward flinch. It was a cold welcoming. She deserved it, she supposed. "Scotland," Elaine admits after a moment, tugging her suitcase a bit to guide it out of the way as she makes her way in. She hasn't said much, but as soon as she starts talking, it's pretty easy to tell a change. She's not using her accent. "You all can hate me, if you like."

Squinting at Elaine, Quinn's hands haven't moved from bracing Junko in her seat, wanting to keep her still until she's sure that she youngling is asleep. Eyes centre back on the baby for a moment, before Quinn rises back to her feet, hands searching for pockets in her skirt that don't exist, so instead she wraps her arms around her midsection, suddenly feeling very cold in lace.

"No one hates you," Quinn says quietly as she walks her way back towards the kitchen. There's been a pizza - now stone cold - sitting on the counter the entire time Quinn forgot about amidst her and Sable's… whatever it was they just had, it couldn't justifiably be called a fight, and Quinn intends to cut herself a slice. "There's food if you want some." Her tone carries a tone similar to Sab;e, but more pensive than flat.

Sable slowly moves over to the pile where her hoodie and jacket are. Slowly, with a dreamlike steadiness and deliberateness, she slips on layer after layer. She moves over to the door, where Elaine stands. She looks up at her, brow furrowed, pained. "'course we don't hate you. Never could do that. Wouldn't wanna live so," she reaches out and squeezes Elaine's hand, "but I can't stay here. I jus', fuckin' need t' take care 'f some things. I'm glad yer safe, Elaine. Please don' ever do this 'gain, arright?" Plaintive rather than commanding. She dips her head. "Sorry f'r any wrong I've done. I see y' when I see y', eh?" And then she's sliding out the front door.

Sable's departure has Elaine's breath catching in her throat. "Well, fuck. I should've just fucking stayed in Scotland…" She mutters, violently kicking her suitcase towards her room. "Coming back's clearly been a mistake."

"Sable!' is practically barked out by Quinn as she looks up from the otherside of the counter. "Stay for dinner, please." Which is said with a much more soft tone that the previous bark, almost a bit pleading. "Sorry, Elaine, it's- just been a long day. We're happy you're home, we really are." Which is genuine, and every word of it sounds so. "But I think I'm with Sable. Please, please don't ever do that again. I have never been so worried in my life."

The bark is what actually halts Sable, but the soft words make her turn around. What looked like composure before is now streaked with tears. Someone was trying to get clear before starting to cry. A pretty desperate move for composure's sake. She huddles into herself, taking on that whipped dog aspect once more.

"…'right."

The crying causes another flinch from Elaine, who shakes her foot out (kicking a suitcase is never a good idea) and carries herself over to Sable to put her arms around the shorter girl. "I'm sorry I left. I know I hurt everyone. It was not intentional. I didn't even know how long I'd be there… you gonna stay with us, Sable? At least for dinner? Please?" Sounds weird, coming out all American sounding. It sounds weird to Elaine, too.

Crying Sable is never something Quinn is comfortable seeing, and even though it gets Elaine to stop regreting her return - at least out loud - she immediately regrets her decision to stop the younger woman. Still, with Elaine moving to comfort her, Quinn keeps with cutting the pizza into slices, and once it's done, she slides it forward, moving to get Elaine's luggage. "Sorry if you're room's kinda, like.. messy. I kinda, um… went through it." She leaves Ygraine out of the equation for the moment. It seems like telling Elaine another person was worried about her could get any number of results. Either way, Quinn's uncomfortable for a few reasons, so for a moment, she's busying herself, an eye cast over to Junko to make sure she isn't roused from ehr recently recovered slumber.

Sable slowly but resolutely draws up and out of Elaine's embrace, hands taking hers for a moment and squeezing as she says, giving a small sniff. "Not now, darlin', I beg you. I jus'- jus' ain't in fit state," she's forced to gulp back something kind of like of sob that she won't let happen, a kind of involuntary physical reaction to being shook up, "but I'm so glad yer home safe. I jus'- please, I dunno what t' feel right now." She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. "F'r dinner, sure. But then I gotta go see Dee. This can't wait no longer than that."

Elaine flinches, as if struck, and draws back from Sable. "Alright, if it can't wait that long." She moves back towards the kitchen and Quinn, looking towards the Irishwoman. "I hope you aren't gonna run off on me too. I'm sorry if I hurt you, Quinn. I guess cinnamon rolls don't make up for much, huh?"

Elaine's luggage depositited in her room, Quinn makes a step back out with her finger threaded through beltloops on her skirt. Sable gets a bit of an odd look, and it's obvious she wants ask Sable why she needs to run off all off a sudden, but they're no longer in the throes of their argument - that malice-mixed-with-jealousy feeling that drove her no longer fuels her mind at the moment, alloing her to reapply her filter.

Probably for the best.

Making her way back towards the kitchen, Quinn flashes Elaine a weak smile. "No plans t' run off. I burnt the rolls." Of course she did. That shouldn't really surprise Elaine at all. "Just been really busy, is all. Work, baby, a trip out t' Pollepel. That kinda stuff."

Sable sheds her layers just as slowly and deliberately as she put them on. Rubbing her cheeks clear, slowly regaining composure but still looking thoroughly deflated, she wobbles her way back inside properly, and then takes a careful, cross legged sit on the ground. "I ain't skippin' town, doll, don't worry 'bout it," she says, sounding more tired than anything else. Bad as her mood might be, however guilty her conscience, now that Elaine's back a great tension has been eased and it leaves Sable feeling fatigued. In better spirits, it would feel like pure relief.

"Wasn't really worrying about you skipping town, Sable," Elaine says, soon looking back towards Quinn. "Don't worry. I'm back to help you. You don't have to worry so much about the baby… I'll make it up to you somehow. I'm glad life went out without too much of a hitch without me. The CD going okay? And how about the job?"

"Well." Well? Quinn slides pieces of pizza on to plates, motioning towards the couch. "I wouldn't say without a hitch," she admits,eyeing Elaine and SAble. Lingering on Sable, still now out of worry. Wondering if their little dialogue had ended on the worse possible note it could have. Whereas for Sable, a great tension has been eased, for QUinn it just feels like it's thickening, for better or worse. Usually worse.

"I mean, we got by. But that doesn't mean we didn't notice the difference a' you bein' gone. Ask Junko. SHe's had t' deal with a shitty babysitter all week, an' now I need t' go find her a new bo…ttle." She hadn't meant to share that part, but in trying to act like nothing's wrong, it slipped out. Oops. She's playing the part well, but the weariness Quinn exhibits… it's not hard to tell everything's not entirely kosher.

"Been a cloud hangin' over us since y' left," Sable says, with a glum steadiness, head hung a bit, eyes coasting between Elaine and Quinn, "rainin' worry 'n' givin' little flashes of fearful lightenin'. But that's over now, yer home safe, and I don' wanna be mad at y' 'cause I don't got no right. So… le's jus' have dinner, eh?"

Elaine moves to take a plate to the couch, sinking down onto it with a heavy sigh. "It's not true. The two of you have every right to be mad at me. I didn't say anything. Well, I did, but… it was a lame note. You two deserved more. I just… I needed to get away. I think I'm better, though. Well, as much as I can be." She looks between the two. "What exactly was up with the two of you when I came in?"

Quinn is bringing over the pizza, setting it down on the table with a bit of a thunk, her new laptop slid aside. A look to Junko as she sits down next to the infant, smiling at her."You took a wilderness sabbatical," Quinn replies, trying to sound nonchalant. "I just wish you told me. I spent all week tryin' t' figure it out." And then a question she dreads, even as she's reaching for a piece of paper. So… she just looks over at Sable. She has no idea what to say.

Quinn's look is met. Sable looks a little grave. "We say, then we say, with both 'f us sayin'. Can't be jus' you say 'r I say. If it's t' be said it's t' be said properly, 'n' it's only proper that it's said together. Dig?"

Elaine looks up, mid-bite of pizza. "Wait, what?" She clears her throat. "I—I'm not sure I quite understand what's going on." Her gaze flickers between the two, pizza set down on the plate. "I… what page are we all on, cause I'm not sure what book I should even be looking in."

"I- am not sure m'self," Quinn replies with narrowed eyes at Sable. This isn't even a matter of getting stories straight of anything, Quinn is entirely unsure of what, exactly, Sable wants them to say together. Even th obvious answer escapes her at the moment, in her continuing determination not to say it out loud. "Mostyle trying to quiet the baby," Quinn offers, which is actually not a lie. That is what they were doing when Elaine got there. "I dropped a glass earlier and she got fussy."

Sable wrinkles her nose. She is trying to play it straight and narrow, but Quinn is making it too easy for her to slither out. And she's done double dealing, she has to be, in order to even live with herself. This may be a critical difference. Quinn seems to be aiming for kindness. Sable can be cruel if she feels justified. Not a necessarily admirable trait. "Quinn, y'all don' leave me hangin', arright?" she says, then looks to Elaine, "I tol' her. 'bout us. 'bout, like, most everythin'. 'N' th' strange spot we're in now."

"I…" Elaine trails off, the plate of pizza set down on the coffee table. It's too much of a distraction. "Kinda wished I was here for that. Serves me right, I guess." She peers back towards Quinn. "A-Are you okay?"

This was the question Quinn had been trying to avoid. because really she doesn't know the answer to that. Not yet. But at the same time, Quinn doesn't have an answer, and she doesn't want to lie to Elaine. Never wants to lie to Elaine. She looks over to Sable, and then to Elaine, giving a weak smile, bringing up the most noncomittal answer she can. "I'll be just fine. I just- had a bit a' ventin' t' do." She wants to say she didn't make Sable cry, but she doesn't know that, and she can't in good conscience say she wasn’t trying to at some point. "I was telling the truth about the bottle an' Junko bein' fussy though."

Sable fixes Quinn with a deadly stare. "Quinn…" she says, half warning, "what did I tell y' 'bout leavin' me hangin'?"

"I don't blame you, if I were in your position, I'd probably need to vent too. I still, at some point, wanna talk to you more about this whole thing. I wanna make sure things are solid, Quinn," Elaine says, before her eyes flicker to Sable. She then glances to Quinn. There's more?

Like before, Quinn shies away a bit, drawing her legs up on to couch as best as she can with two other people and a baby also occupting it. She looks over to Sable, eyes narrowed. "What do you want me t' say, Sable?" She doesn't sound angry, but she seems rather frustrated. "That I yelled you? That I was mad?" She draws her legs up closer, mirroring the position she was in when she had spoken to Ygraine about these matters. "That I talked down t' you? That I lov-" And she stops, again, lips pressed tight. But she knows it's probably too late, now. "That I love you, Elaine," she says quietly, burying her face in her knees.

Yup! That'd be it. No need for Sable to say more. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine some music. All she gets is the faintest trill of a distant, mournful banjo.

Elaine blinks in surprise. She turns to face Quinn a little more fully, folding her hands in her lap. "You mean it in the love sense, not the roommate sense." She pauses. "So… the secret girlfriend thing?" She pauses again, then reaches a hand to rest on Quinn's shoulder. "I didn't even know, Quinn. I'm sorry." Her eyes flicker back to Sable. "I don't want you to leave, lord knows I don't. But you said you had some—" her voice hitches for a moment "-thing to take care of. And I should talk with Quinn. So if you really need to go… you can go. But you have to come see me. Soon. Very soon. Or call me. Or something, okay? Because otherwise I won't be okay."

Sable clambers slowly to her feet and, after a moment's pause, moves over to give Elaine a hug. Overcoming whatever previous block she had. The embrace is pretty tight, but it loosens momentarily and Sable looks up at Elaine. "When yer talkin', Elaine, darlin', just remember: it'd be hard t' do much better," her eyes cut to Quinn, then back to Elaine, "so think on it. Arright?" Whatever that all means, Sable doesn't further elucidate. She steps back from Elaine. "'course I will. Anythin' y' ask, darlin'." She looks to Quinn. "There's no happiness I don' wish y', Quinngirl. Believe that if y' believe nothin' else I say." She dips her head, then re-dons her gear, departing with just a small salute at the door. Then gone.


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