[ of course he wouldn't know where the bathrooms are, they can't get to them in trials, she doesn't know why so don't ask. she twists in her seat and points out a door by one of the flights of stairs, (and, uh. the giant fucking hole in the wall. great joke from the entity putting the hole next to the shower.) ]
It's kinda cramped, but it's a shower.
[ she says that much with a slightly awkward laugh, oddly self-conscious about the whole thing suddenly. it's kind of dim and dingy in there, but they keep it clean and uncluttered — julie would kill everyone if they didn't — and there's a bathtub with a shower, and a sink. and it's got surprisingly more headroom than one might expect, which is probably why that's the one with the shower. ]
[ the last time eddie had a proper shower was— well, he can't remember, honestly. probably the same morning everything went to shit back home - you know, when a cheerleader came to him looking for some relief and ended up dead in the middle of his living room. washing off in the lake is... fine. it gets the job done as far as cleaning off blood and guts and sometimes vomit, but the possibility of an actual shower feels like a dream.
eddie nods his head once, then somewhat awkwardly gets up. he murmurs a quiet be right back, and then he's off with his new shirt in the direction of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
it's weird, once inside. eddie stands there, staring at the door like he doesn't know what to do with himself, shirt still clutched in one hand. after a moment, he turns around on his heels, and startles a little at his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. eddie averts his eyes quickly, not interested in seeing himself covered in someone else's blood. not interested in knowing what he might have looked like to anyone who might have found him back home, if anyone even found him at all. to this day, eddie still feels sick and guilty every time he thinks about henderson's stupid crying face hovering above him.
gritting his teeth a little, eddie drapes his clean shirt over the edge of the sink and then turns away from the mirror slightly so he can peel his jacket and his bloodied shirt off. now that he's alone, it's easy to kind of backslide a little, his thoughts drifting back to the trial. to leon, and the girl who just - fucking folded him up like paper before dropping him like - well, like dead weight. eddie takes a deep, shaking breath and turns back to the sink, purposely avoiding looking at his own reflection. he moves the clean shirt out of the way, then turns on the sink and shoves his hellfire shirt under the water, watching the water turn a rusty brownish-pink color as the blood starts to come out of it and swirl down the drain.
a minute ago, a shower sounded like a goddamn miracle, but now eddie's not sure he has the energy for it. if he deserves a luxury like that when people are dead. in the end, he skips the shower entirely. rinses and wrings out his club shirt so he can use it as a washcloth, wiping and dabbing as much of the dried blood off of his skin as he can. when he's done, he wrings his shirt out again, turns off the sink, and reaches for his new shirt. it's such a stupid thing, but it does make him laugh a little, a quiet breath escaping through his nose as he pulls it on.
even all cleaned up, eddie does not look at himself. he takes his wet shirt and his jacket and about five minutes after slinking off, eddie steps out of the bathroom. he clears his throat, slowly making his way back toward the couch, and the fireplace. ]
Is it, uh. Is it cool if I like - drape this? To dry.
[ his hellfire shirt, he means, lifting his hand and giving it a little shake just in case it's not clear. ]
[ julie watches a little pensively as eddie heads to the bathroom, the weird urge to call out and ask if he needs help strikes when the door closes behind him and she rolls her eyes at herself. help with what? he's grown, she's pretty sure the guy knows how to wash himself. her mother's voice rolls around in the back of her head, telling her it's just good manners for a host to offer to help their guest and berating her for not offering to make him a coffee or some shit like this is just a normal day in a normal place and she didn't find the guy halfway having a panic attack in a broken down ski lodge. ]
[ a minute or two of staring at the bathroom door like a creep passes and julie eventually makes herself get up, takes herself upstairs to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and drops down onto the couch when she comes back. all of it is really just ways to keep her mind occupied and off the fact that having someone here makes her more anxious than she would've expected, but that's probably all there is to it. just don't think too hard on it. ]
[ she's curled into the corner of the couch that eddie had been in when he comes out of the bathroom sooner than expected, and julie looks over, unable to hide the little smile seeing him in that stupid shirt puts on her face. ]
Uh-- sure. Yeah.
[ she gestures to the fireplace and the space around it like he needs help finding it. excellent job, jules. ]
[ with julie's permission, eddie moves along the side of the couch, stepping over the broken glass from the bottle he shattered when he first got here and thought there was a good chance he was about to be attacked. he makes a mental note to pick all of that up at some point before he leaves, and drapes his damp shirt over one of the short wooden posts protruding from the brick above the fire grating, out of the way but hopefully close enough that the heat'll dry it.
when he turns back, eddie leaves his jacket over the back of the couch, and he's only semi-awkward for a second or two before he sits back down on the couch with julie, taking up the opposite side. not quite in the corner, but not quite in the middle and all up in julie's space. he sinks down a little, sagging into the cushions much like he had been before, but this time he seems a little bit more comfortable now that he's not wearing someone else's blood.
eddie lulls his head to look at julie, notes the cigarettes in her hand, and puts his own hand out. he curls his fingers, silently asking for one. ]
Not a bad job.
[ he says about the shirt, smiling at her a little. he still looks... very tired, but the melt down from earlier is mostly behind him for now. ]
[ so he didn't shower. there's no way anyone with that much hair could be anything other than absolutely soaked if they did, but he looks better at least. or maybe it's just the lack of blood covering him now, but that's an improvement too. ]
[ her eyes track over his face, trying to figure out how he's feeling right now, and she leans toward him to hand over the pack and a lighter. ]
I'm glad you think so, because you're actually contractually obliged to love it actually.
Contractually obligated, huh. [ his eyebrows lift, and he pauses with his hand on the cigarettes, the crushed paper connecting the two of them. eddie laughs a little under his breath, the corners of his mouth pulling with a half smile.
truthfully, it's a really dope shirt, though half of the reason he likes it at all is because it's an inside joke between them. the other half is because it's hand made - because she put in the effort to bring a dumb joke to life, when she was not contractually obligated to do so. he says it's not a bad job, but he's pretty pleased.
eddie slides the lighter and the cigarettes out of her hand, bringing the pack up to his face so he can pluck one free with his mouth. he hands the cigarettes back, gets his own lit in two attempts and then holds the lighter back out to her as well. finally, he turns a little sideways so he's facing julie, lifting his arm a bit so he can rest it along the back of the couch.
he inhales a cloud of smoke, tilts his chin down and to the side a bit to exhale away from them, then wets his lips before he looks back up. he leans his cheek against his arm, blinks a bit sleepily. ] I don't remember signing shit.
[ he smiles, lazy and teasing. ]
Guess it doesn't matter though. [ and then, quieter. ] I do kinda love it.
"actually contractually obliged to love it actually" why
[ there's a joke about signing in blood that makes it all the way to the tip of julie's tongue before she catches it, but she does and swallows it back down with an inhale of smoke. which is honestly pretty good for her, she doesn't often catch those jokes before she says them these days. ]
[ which is good, because it means she hears eddie says he kinda loves it and that makes julie smile. wide and stupid for a moment, and she turns her head to look away for a moment while she wills the heat on her face not to turn into a blush because she'd really hate to kill eddie in his new shirt. ]
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[ of course he wouldn't know where the bathrooms are, they can't get to them in trials, she doesn't know why so don't ask. she twists in her seat and points out a door by one of the flights of stairs, (and, uh. the giant fucking hole in the wall. great joke from the entity putting the hole next to the shower.) ]
It's kinda cramped, but it's a shower.
[ she says that much with a slightly awkward laugh, oddly self-conscious about the whole thing suddenly. it's kind of dim and dingy in there, but they keep it clean and uncluttered — julie would kill everyone if they didn't — and there's a bathtub with a shower, and a sink. and it's got surprisingly more headroom than one might expect, which is probably why that's the one with the shower. ]
no subject
eddie nods his head once, then somewhat awkwardly gets up. he murmurs a quiet be right back, and then he's off with his new shirt in the direction of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
it's weird, once inside. eddie stands there, staring at the door like he doesn't know what to do with himself, shirt still clutched in one hand. after a moment, he turns around on his heels, and startles a little at his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. eddie averts his eyes quickly, not interested in seeing himself covered in someone else's blood. not interested in knowing what he might have looked like to anyone who might have found him back home, if anyone even found him at all. to this day, eddie still feels sick and guilty every time he thinks about henderson's stupid crying face hovering above him.
gritting his teeth a little, eddie drapes his clean shirt over the edge of the sink and then turns away from the mirror slightly so he can peel his jacket and his bloodied shirt off. now that he's alone, it's easy to kind of backslide a little, his thoughts drifting back to the trial. to leon, and the girl who just - fucking folded him up like paper before dropping him like - well, like dead weight. eddie takes a deep, shaking breath and turns back to the sink, purposely avoiding looking at his own reflection. he moves the clean shirt out of the way, then turns on the sink and shoves his hellfire shirt under the water, watching the water turn a rusty brownish-pink color as the blood starts to come out of it and swirl down the drain.
a minute ago, a shower sounded like a goddamn miracle, but now eddie's not sure he has the energy for it. if he deserves a luxury like that when people are dead. in the end, he skips the shower entirely. rinses and wrings out his club shirt so he can use it as a washcloth, wiping and dabbing as much of the dried blood off of his skin as he can. when he's done, he wrings his shirt out again, turns off the sink, and reaches for his new shirt. it's such a stupid thing, but it does make him laugh a little, a quiet breath escaping through his nose as he pulls it on.
even all cleaned up, eddie does not look at himself. he takes his wet shirt and his jacket and about five minutes after slinking off, eddie steps out of the bathroom. he clears his throat, slowly making his way back toward the couch, and the fireplace. ]
Is it, uh. Is it cool if I like - drape this? To dry.
[ his hellfire shirt, he means, lifting his hand and giving it a little shake just in case it's not clear. ]
no subject
[ a minute or two of staring at the bathroom door like a creep passes and julie eventually makes herself get up, takes herself upstairs to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and drops down onto the couch when she comes back. all of it is really just ways to keep her mind occupied and off the fact that having someone here makes her more anxious than she would've expected, but that's probably all there is to it. just don't think too hard on it. ]
[ she's curled into the corner of the couch that eddie had been in when he comes out of the bathroom sooner than expected, and julie looks over, unable to hide the little smile seeing him in that stupid shirt puts on her face. ]
Uh-- sure. Yeah.
[ she gestures to the fireplace and the space around it like he needs help finding it. excellent job, jules. ]
no subject
when he turns back, eddie leaves his jacket over the back of the couch, and he's only semi-awkward for a second or two before he sits back down on the couch with julie, taking up the opposite side. not quite in the corner, but not quite in the middle and all up in julie's space. he sinks down a little, sagging into the cushions much like he had been before, but this time he seems a little bit more comfortable now that he's not wearing someone else's blood.
eddie lulls his head to look at julie, notes the cigarettes in her hand, and puts his own hand out. he curls his fingers, silently asking for one. ]
Not a bad job.
[ he says about the shirt, smiling at her a little. he still looks... very tired, but the melt down from earlier is mostly behind him for now. ]
no subject
[ her eyes track over his face, trying to figure out how he's feeling right now, and she leans toward him to hand over the pack and a lighter. ]
I'm glad you think so, because you're actually contractually obliged to love it actually.
no subject
truthfully, it's a really dope shirt, though half of the reason he likes it at all is because it's an inside joke between them. the other half is because it's hand made - because she put in the effort to bring a dumb joke to life, when she was not contractually obligated to do so. he says it's not a bad job, but he's pretty pleased.
eddie slides the lighter and the cigarettes out of her hand, bringing the pack up to his face so he can pluck one free with his mouth. he hands the cigarettes back, gets his own lit in two attempts and then holds the lighter back out to her as well. finally, he turns a little sideways so he's facing julie, lifting his arm a bit so he can rest it along the back of the couch.
he inhales a cloud of smoke, tilts his chin down and to the side a bit to exhale away from them, then wets his lips before he looks back up. he leans his cheek against his arm, blinks a bit sleepily. ] I don't remember signing shit.
[ he smiles, lazy and teasing. ]
Guess it doesn't matter though. [ and then, quieter. ] I do kinda love it.
"actually contractually obliged to love it actually" why
[ which is good, because it means she hears eddie says he kinda loves it and that makes julie smile. wide and stupid for a moment, and she turns her head to look away for a moment while she wills the heat on her face not to turn into a blush because she'd really hate to kill eddie in his new shirt. ]
... Good. [ ahem ]