[ RANCID... Wolfwood probably stood up and left as soon as Rang disappeared. He absolutely did not stay for the cookies. Not in too much of a rush, but certainly with a desire to not dawdle in that saw room any longer.
By eve, he'll probably be back at the warehouse, having showered off and retired to an Ikea black hoodie, just smoking the last remnants of his last cigarette pack on one of the couches. There are a lot of crushed stubs on a plate or something that he'll toss en masse later.
If Shenhe happens to return or pass by, he'll just give her the vaguest most unenthusiastic grunt of acknowledgment. ]
she doesn't say anything to him at first, just moves right to the shower. she'll be there for a while, but eventually, she'll come back out, hair wet. it's long - down to her hips. in what serves as sleep clothes, just a black shirt and black pants, she makes her way over to wolfwood on the couch and sits.
there's no anger this time, it's just - sad. the hot feeling of tears behind your eyes that won't come. she doesn't say anything to him. instead, she starts to brush her hair out with a jade comb.]
[ There's no particular change in his atmosphere when Shenhe decides to sit down here, he's content to keep working his way through these cancer sticks at an alarming rate, not that Shenhe knows what a non-alarming rate of cigarettes is (any amount of them is, don't ever get into smoking Shenny).
After about a few minutes of this, the quiet sound of brushing and periodic exhale, he'll deign to look over at her with a wry -- but very honestly exhausted look. No sunglasses indoors for once, so she can clearly see the raise of his brow, the silent questioning if she's okay. ]
[the sad gets a little less, as she slowly, methodically brushes through her hair. it doesn't turn into anything happy or anything even resembling positive, it just lessens. when he looks over, she pauses the motion, looking at him in return.]
I'll survive. [she answers the silent question. it's kind of a novelty to see his eyes, she thinks, absently.
like. she's not okay. but nobody is. and there's no bringing them back, so she just has to... deal with it, somehow. swallow all those emotions, because no matter what she does, she can't cry them out. it just never happens.]
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wk2 - sunday;
By eve, he'll probably be back at the warehouse, having showered off and retired to an Ikea black hoodie, just smoking the last remnants of his last cigarette pack on one of the couches. There are a lot of crushed stubs on a plate or something that he'll toss en masse later.
If Shenhe happens to return or pass by, he'll just give her the vaguest most unenthusiastic grunt of acknowledgment. ]
no subject
she doesn't say anything to him at first, just moves right to the shower. she'll be there for a while, but eventually, she'll come back out, hair wet. it's long - down to her hips. in what serves as sleep clothes, just a black shirt and black pants, she makes her way over to wolfwood on the couch and sits.
there's no anger this time, it's just - sad. the hot feeling of tears behind your eyes that won't come. she doesn't say anything to him. instead, she starts to brush her hair out with a jade comb.]
no subject
After about a few minutes of this, the quiet sound of brushing and periodic exhale, he'll deign to look over at her with a wry -- but very honestly exhausted look. No sunglasses indoors for once, so she can clearly see the raise of his brow, the silent questioning if she's okay. ]
no subject
I'll survive. [she answers the silent question. it's kind of a novelty to see his eyes, she thinks, absently.
like. she's not okay. but nobody is. and there's no bringing them back, so she just has to... deal with it, somehow. swallow all those emotions, because no matter what she does, she can't cry them out. it just never happens.]