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[ Vodka, Claire. The answer to the question you didn't actually ask is vodka. Kate's is going into whatever passes for Coke around here, and she sips in between bites of pie, staring into space more than she intends to. It's obvious in the way she startles every once in a while and re-focuses her eyes, deliberately looking around like it takes some effort, like she cant quite remember what she was thinking about and has to start over. When Claire speaks she's slow to turn, but her eyes are clear and her mouth quirks into a hint of a smile. ]

I call bullshit.

[ Sometimes Claire wishes that there was a point for her to alcohol! Not because she finds herself really wanting it or even particularly enjoys what happens to people whenever they throw back a bunch of shots - look at what happened to Nathan - but it's one of those normal social activities that just seems pointless given her ability and the effect alcohol has on her as a result. She does placate Kate by taking a gigantic swig of Coke, though, or whatever constitutes as it. ]

I didn't realize we were playing cards. [ Claire puts her fork down in a mess of melted ice cream and torn apart fruit. The carnage of her dessert is mostly purple and mostly delicious, so despite the somber mood between the two of them, it's hard to stop eating. ] No, seriously. The pie's good, really good, but my mom had a recipe for apple that she used to make on Thanksgiving that was pretty much the best thing you've ever tasted.

[ Kate should probably put that together because she knows it's true of super soldiers and Claire's like a super soldier times a gazillion in that way. Maybe she'll figure it out tomorrow. In the meantime, she just drinks her own drink and doesn't judge. Except maybe about pie.

But not even, because she smiles a little bit, one half of her lips tugged up higher. ]

Yeah? We always had pumpkin, Martine had something against apple at Thanksgiving that we learned not to question.

Edited 2014-07-08 03:13 (UTC)

I'm almost afraid to ask.

[ But not quite. Even so, she doesn't press. Claire just tucks that little gem of knowledge away for a rainy day, when they aren't both feeling so terrible and when maybe thinking about friends from home won't seem so inappropriate.

Then again, what's better than a distraction? ]

I'd have to meet this Martine person. I have extreme misgivings about people who don't believe in the sanctity of apple pie. Sure, pumpkin's a given. But apple.

[ Come on, Kate. Clair takes another bite for emphasis, but it's mostly berry at this point. ]

Hey, I'm with you here, [ Kate raises a fork and a finger in mild defense before lazily pressing the tines over crust crumbs, packing them into a bite. ] I love apple. She just had some sort of principled objection. I don't know what it was, but I'm pretty sure she threatened to quit when my Dad tried to insist. So pumpkin was our standard.

[ She shrugs, like this explains it all: ] She was French.

That explains everything.

[ Except it doesn't, not at all. Strangely, Claire finds herself fascinated by Kate's little open door into her history, though, maybe not so strangely, it makes her think of that sandy-haired girl that they had encountered and what her opinions on pie might have been at one time or another. ]

How's your head, by the way?

[ She makes a vague motion with her own forehead to indicate the stitches there. ]

[ What are you talking about Kate is an open book!! ]

Only a very minor concussion. The stitches should come out pretty fast and they don't think it'll scar, it's just to help keep it from bleeding like head wounds do. All in all pretty good. [ She drinks, another slow sip, and sucks ice cream off her fork. ]

How much of your outfit made it through in the end? [ Too soon? ]

[ Something in the way Kate phrases that, her attitude, maybe the relief at knowing the only damage Kate had suffered under her watch was temporary and hasn't exacerbated the obvious mental conditions she's suffered from knowing Barry Manilow make Claire instantly feel lighter. It's only a moment before she's grinning, small, and then laughing, not as small. ]

Obviously they're not concerned enough to stop you from drinking. [ Claire taps Kate's glass with her fork and it makes a pleasant, high-pitched sound. ] As far as my jumpsuit goes, I hear crop tops are making a comeback.

[ Claire you sweet summer child. As if that's the worst of it. But it is all temporary, and Kate's not about to let on, not the way she grins at 'stop you', a crooked and unrepentant little thing and one brow flickering upwards. ] I mean, they're welcome to come try. [ She jokes. Mostly. (It's only one drink.) ]

Good work, I've been wishing that thing were two piece for months, anyway.

Planning on working on your tan?

[ Claire arches an eyebrow without looking at the other girl, shoving her food around her plate some more, trying to soak up more of the ice cream. Really, she could just ask for a spoon, but the challenge is somehow worth it. She promises not to lick the place clean, but it's been a long time since she's had ice cream.

Around a mouthful of appleberry, Claire points her fork in the other girl's direction. ]

You might want to wait until the stitches come out. [ The fork points back at Claire's own head. ] Tan lines.

[ Because that absolutely makes sense. ]

Totally. Hitting the holodeck as soon as we're done here. Some fake sun, some fake sea breeze, some real yoga. [ Actually that sounds pretty good, and the moment where Kate actually starts seriously considering it can be seen coming across her face, and going again when she considers how much yoga would probably hurt right now. She gestures with her own fork towards her head now, and then to Claire, ] You've got a little....

I got terrible band aid tanlines once. I had a couple of them [ She gestures at her arm and nose vaguely. ] And Clint and I spent all day doing surveillance on a roof. In July. It was more like bandaid burnlines, to be honest.

[ Too busy suffering in momentary mortification that she might actually have pie on her head, Claire doesn't respond to anything Kate says right away, just takes her sleeve and stretches it down over her hand to wipe at her face. When she comes up for air, she's giving Kate a somewhat incredulous look. ]

At least they weren't tanlines from sunglasses. Those are the worst. Although, I've gotta admit... the beach does sound pretty enticing.

You got it. [ Kate gives Claire's face cleaning effort a thumbs up.] Yeah, the reverse raccoon thing isn't a good look on anyone.

I lived out in LA for a bit, and stayed in this trailer right on the beach. It was a pretty nice spot. I could just hang out on the roof in the morning and do yoga like a hippie asshole. It was great, for a while. [ If she realizes how confusing and contradictory these little snippets of her life are she is not letting on. ]

[ Thank you, Mama Kate. Thank you for not reaching across the table with a wet thumb to clean the mess off. Meanwhile, Claire finds herself laughing - well... laughing might be a bit of an exaggeration, but she's definitely doing something harder than giggling. ]

You don't really strike me as the hippie asshole type. This is a little surprising.

[ Kate breathes out half a chuckle, and shakes her head. ]

Thank you, I'm not. But you know. Early morning yoga on the beach kind of sounds like it. But it's also just really nice, so whatever. Fuck the haters, et cetera. I recommend it if you get the chance. [ She gestures vaguely with her fork hand. ] You said you lived in California for a while, right? Did I make that up?

[ Now she just wants you to teach her yoga, Kate. ]

You did not make that up. [ Claire is swallowing another bite again, so that comes out a little strangled at first, the need for appleberry is so substantial and consuming. ] I didn't get into any hippie stuff, though, mostly just cheerleading and.

[ Well. ]

You know, trouble.

[ The memory of her Costa Verde home is still fresh from the corridors of the ship, so that's a loaded admission that leaves her feeling a little hollowed out. ]

[ This is all a ploy to get her into yoga pants, isn't it?

Kate gives a little 'yay me' wave of her fork when it turns out she's right, too busy chewing to vocalize. She nods along, snorts at the last. It seems like she's going to say something, make a joke probably, but then she doesn't, taking another bite of pie instead and looking down at her plate. ]

[ Don't tell anyone!!!

Meanwhile, she's not sure what to make of Kate's lack of a response. Claire by nature isn't a very oversharing kind of person. She's barely even a sharing kind of person. The last person she had really allowed to see anything like what Kate has seen went screaming, with good reason, in the opposite direction. Even if Gretchen had eventually come back, it was still with some amount of acknowledgment that Claire could never shake. ]

Originally, I'm from Texas. Odessa. [ That seems like a neutral point to make, although it has its own share of bagged. ] If I had any say in it, I'd probably still be there, but, you know, stuff happens. Things change. We moved to California when I was sixteen, and then I moved to Virginia for college after that.

[ God when she puts it like that it sounds painfully normal. ]

[ omg!!

Kate'd be hard pressed to explain it, and if actually asked would choose not to; she's far from a sharey sort of person herself despite her general gregariousness. She swallows another mouthful of pie and nods along. ]

I've never actually been to Texas. Except driving through the little... stem bit on my way to California. What do you call that part? I want to say panhandle but that's the opposite, that's Oklahoma. Or Florida. [ She looks uncertain. And surprised to be uncertain. Is she really this bad at American geography? This is embarrassing. ]

The little part that sticks up at the top? By Oklahoma?

[ Is it too soon to help herself to another slice of pie? No one else has arrived yet, and she's pretty sure it's good manners to wait until everyone has had a first helping before going back in for seconds. ]

That's the Texas Panhandle. Apparently there are a lot of pan comparisons being made across the United States.

It doesn't look anything like a pan handle. [ Kate objects to this, brows furrowing skeptically. ] Or even like the other pan handles. What the hell. But yeah, there. I drove through there, but that's it for me and Texas. You were a fan?

Sure it does. It's just like -

[ Claire makes a vague gripping motion, like she's hold the edge of a frying pan, and makes the intimations of... what? Flipping a pancake? It only occurs to her after she's done it what that might look like, and she puts her hand in lap and clears her throat. ]

Anyway, yeah, I liked Texas. It was... a lot different than California, but I grew up there. Everything was so normal, for so long. My mom bred championship showdogs and my dad was this paper supply salesman and my brother was really annoying. [ She shrugs, and since Kate's already seen it, decides on honesty. ] And then my ability manifested, and a bunch of terrible things happened, and we had to move.

[ Sucks to suck. ]

[ Kate just arches a brow at her, and says nothing. But she's clearly trying not to smile.

She eats her pie as she listens, lips quirking again at breeding showdogs and annoying brothers. It's all so incongruously normal and kind of endearing, partly because she pictures it like the tv version of perfect suburbia. And then--. ]

That sucks. [ Is sort of a ridiculous understatement in the face of it, but. It does. And she's not trying to be dismissive, it's clearly a very sincere statement. ] Did things work out okay in the end?

[ It does suck. Claire is quiet, again, for a long time. She doesn't help herself to any pie or take a drink of her soda, just chews on the inside of her cheek until she's certain she's going to start tasting blood. ]

Most of that is still pending. I - [ Another pause, and she seems more frustrated than anything, now. ] I did something selfish and stupid before I came here. I don't know how it's going to work out.

[ More than that, people have died. Skirting this close to the topic of Jackie's death, she feels bad like she hasn't in years. Responsible. It does suck. ]

[ Kate doesn't press, and though she feels a little weird about it she continues eating. She does not, however, scrape the plate with the side of her fork, which she had been considering. She takes a long drink.

Selfish and stupid has never really been her problem. Stupid, plenty, but mostly when there's no one else involved, when it can't quite count as selfish. But she also has a feeling it isn't all as much Claire's fault as she'd claim. She turns her fork between her fingertips, and considers for a while before responding.

By pushing the appleberry pie over to Claire's plate. And setting a hand on the back of her shoulder. ]

You'll figure it out.

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