thatsamilkshake | Room 505, Monday Night

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Room 505, Monday Night

The homemade cookie stash not having been completely depleted by her newest little sibling, Francine was nibbling on one while sorting clothes from her suitcases into Wash Me, Didn't Wear, and Wore In Curacao But Washed It In New York. She'd had to occupy her time at the Muse somehow; might as well be the laundry room.

If one were to take that as an indication that both of her holiday trips had been heavy on the tanning and/or shopping and light on the successful completion of Other Things, one would not be wrong.

At least the beach was relaxing, she didn't get a sunburn and she'd bought a lot of postcards?

[OOC: Oooopen!]

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"Wow, awesome." Dinah blinked, then grinned, and opened up one of the pints of ice cream. "Where did you stay? That was so cool of him." Seriously, sometimes, Arthur just rocked.

"The Renaissance Curacao -- it's this fancy Marriott resort hotel." Francine had packages to hand over too. "Because Arthur is some word that means crazy person in some language he doesn't speak so he doesn't tell me it's rude to say so again."

"Seriously crazy, but in a good way. He liiiikes you, even if he calls you rude. Ooo!" Dinah ripped open the first package and laughed, hugging the bottle, saying, "I kinda needed this--" Then opened the second and grinned even wider. "It's like you know me. I love it, thank you!" Hmm, she could mix the ice cream and curacao together, maybe...

Francine ripped open her own packages -- well, for the carefully unfolding Francine value of 'ripped' -- and grinned. "Now I can watch hot shirtless vampires in the privacy of my own room, whee."

That sounded odd somehow, considering who she shared it with.

"How sucky was the sucky part?" she added with a bit of concern, eying the bottle huggery.

Another bite of ice cream, as Dinah considered the last two weeks, and said, "Pretty bad. And it's not quite over yet, I guess, and it's--" She grimaced, put the bottle on the floor, and contemplated it. "Okay. So. Two weeks ago Saturday, Jak and I were boyfriend-girlfriend. And now, I'd just be happy if he acted like he wanted to be friends with me, instead of like he barely knows me and is pissed off at what he knows. And I can't even hate him 'cause it's not his fault. There was time travel. I hate time travel."

Francine scooted back on the bed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Run that by me again slower and with subtitles? What time-travel?"

Dinah poked at the bottle, and took a breath. "We both went back home for break. He went to Sandover, and his friend Keira built this... machine. Vehicle thing. They all went for a ride on it. Him, his best friend, Keira, and her dad Mr. Samos." Another bite of ice cream, trying to remember back what felt like ages ago now. "Once they were in the vehicle, though, this big artifact fired up a portal-- there's artifacts all over Sandover," she tacked on.

"They kind of had to go through the portal, monsters were coming out of it to chase them-- and they ended up in this city, I still don't know the name." She paused to eat another bite of ice cream, and said glumly, "And then Jak spent two and a half years there. And when he came back here, it's a week later."

Yeah, Francine was still stuck on whoa. "...Whoa. So he was gone for that long and then he gets back here and nothing's changed? I can see why he'd be freaked, but why wouldn't he want to be friends with you?"

"I don't know!" Okay, Dinah was leaving important bits out, but still? She didn't know how that worked. "He was in prison. And he got hurt. And then he was fighting in this resistance there. And he's kind of gone all soldier-guy. I think he's just mad at everything now. Everyone. But..." But why is he mad at me? Dinah wanted to ask anyone, someone, who might have a clue. "I dreamed it. Every night for a week. I just didn't guess how long it was."

Francine glanced at the bottle too. Because, well. Whoa. "That's awful. Awful that you had to see it, too."

Dinah was seriously looking at the bottle again. Because hey, it was an anesthetic sometimes, right? "Parts of it were fun, but mostly when he was taking these awful chances, and that's why he's back here. He said his commander wants him to chill." She started wiggling the seal on the bottle. "I just... He was all, 'well now you can forget it all happened 'cause it's not your problem' when I tried to tell him. Like it was that easy." Dinah bit her lip hard, eyes stinging, and ran a thumbnail around the edge of the bottle. "Like we weren't even friends now."

"Oh honey, I'm sorry." Francine tucked her hair behind her ears. "I don't know. Maybe it bothers him that you just got the highlights, and the rest of us had a nice couple weeks off, but he had to live through it?"

"...maybe," Dinah allowed with a sigh, her own frustration dying down again. "And it isn't fair for him. I know. If he wanted to talk, I'd listen, or, or, anything." She swallowed. "I ran into him at the party, and he was drinking alone in a corner, and I didn't want to push. He said he wanted to be left alone. And he's in one of my classes now. I don't want to stalk him, but-- where's the line here, Francine? Seriously."

"I don't know," Francine answered honestly. "You told him you're there if he wants to talk, right?" She wasn't really checking. It was Dinah; she kind of assumed it.

Dinah nodded, and the messing with the liqueur top paid off with a blip! as it flipped off. "Whoops." She tilted the bottle, and said a little wistfully, "I told him I still wanted to hang out. I got this perfect video game to play with him for Christmas. And..." There was Sandover gone, too. She'd forgotten to tell him she was sorry about that. Dinah took a sip of the liqueur, then made a gaccck! face.

"Not good?" Francine asked, echoing the face without having to actually taste it. "I've only ever had it in mixed drinks."

"Bitter, alcoholic oranges," Dinah said in a strangled voice. She TK'd the cap back to her hand and screwed it shut. "Must mix with other stuff. So. Yeah." She rolled her eyes and took a bite of ice cream to get the taste out of her mouth. "My break. In a nutshell."

"That qualifies as sucky, for sure," Francine agreed. She wished she had anything like real advice to give. "You told Jak you'd be there if he wanted to talk. I think you just have to let him decide when he's ready for that. Or even just for hanging out."

Ohhhh, man, that sucked. And hurt. And... Someone had to say it. "So he broke up with me, right?" Dinah whispered, looking down at her ice cream. "I mean. This is a break up. Even if we didn't say it."

Oh, ow. Ow. "I don't--" It wasn't going to help to argue semantics even if Francine was entire sure what those were. "It sounds like it is. He might not think of it that way, but that's where it leaves you."

That was totally a hug being offered. Even if it ended with them both covered in ice cream.

And that was totally a hug being taken, even with the ice cream clutched in between them. With sniffling. And this was why Dinah tried so hard not to think about it for a week, 'cause she needed to have someone to hug like this when it all finally sunk in.

"I'm sorry," Francine said, resting her chin on Dinah's shoulder. "It sucks and it's not fair."

Dinah had her face buried in Francine's shoulder as she sniffled. Not flat-out sobbing, because she'd done that for more important things, like Jak being dead, then not dead, and hurt, and scared... but it felt good, to wibble about something that was just her pain. Just this one time. "I was really looking forward to going to the beach with him," Dinah said, feeling lame. "And, you know. Being able to talk without talking..." Sniiiiiiiiff. "'Snot. Isn't. Fair." Gulp.

"Maybe, you know. Maybe he might want to again, later." Er. Sorry to have to introduce you to the girl who would in some other life fly all the way to Hawaii to attend her dirtbag ex's naked-under-a-waterfall wedding just in case maaaaaaaaaybe...

"Or maybe not." Also, however, the girl who'd made a couple hard choices in this life. "But there's gonna be somebody for you like that. You deserve it."

Dinah closed her eyes and let tears seep out for a bit, hanging onto Francine tight as she let go of the hope she'd been holding onto for almost a week. It would've been a relief if it didn't hurt so much. A good long interval of sniffling and tears later, she sighed and pulled back, grimacing at the ice cream spilled all over her lap. And on part of the carpet.

"Oh, ugh. Sorry." She wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand, looking dolefully down at herself. "Mess. Me. Everything." Coherency. Yadda.

Room 505, Monday Night

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