Post by Delilah Ghost on Nov 30, 2008 19:14:41 GMT -6
Clive wanders up the basement stairs, wiping his hands on a towel. He tosses it behind him as he turns toward the kitchen. Smelling a fresh pot of coffee, as well as hearing the last gurgle from the coffeemaker, he reaches up to take a mug from the shelf. A 'yes, please' can be heard from the living room, and Clive reaches for a second without blinking an eye.
Laden with mugs and coffee pot, Clive walks out into the living room. He is greeted by the sight of everyone's favorite redhead curled up on the couch, scowling down at the pad of paper in her lap. As Clive sets everything down on the table, Delilah rips the page off, crumples it and tosses it behind her.
"Really?"
"Really," she replies, turning the scowl in Clive's direction. He smiles at her, heading back for the cream and sugar. A cellphone rings as he goes to the fridge. Clive glances toward his, sitting in a charger on the counter, but he can hear Delilah answering hers.
"Cherry's mortuary, you need a date, we'll dig one up for you? Hey Dave.....yeah, I figure fifty thou will work.....Can you do me a favor? Put about...ohhh....three thousand in a separate pile? Sweet.....yeah, later today. Can you be an even bigger hero and truck them up here? Nice....you too, Dave. You're awesome, just wanna say that....Later."
Clive returns with the cream and sugar, putting them on the table and pouring himself a cup. He glances past the couch to see a small colony of paperballs forming on the floor.
"All the ducks in a row now?"
"Coming together like a right chorus line, mmmm hmmm. Just gotta load it on the plane, fix up the rest when I get there and we're good to go."
"Really?"
Drawn by the coffee, Delilah gets up to fix up a cup as well. She notices Clive's rather pointed look toward her mess on the floor. Delilah shoots him a glare and ignores him in favor of her cup. He says nothing, merely chuckling as he shakes his head at her. Clive settles in an overstuffed leather chair and picks up the tv remote off of a stand next to him. Delilah takes her place back on the couch, tossing the entire notebook over her shoulder to join the rest.
"His words refuse to magically appear?"
"Why is it so hard, Clive?"
He smiled at her over his cup. "Because you care, darling girl. You feel you've wronged him, and it hurts you."
"Telling him that I'm sorry shouldn't be so hard. Never was. Not with him."
"Must have been, seeing as how he couldn't talk back."
"Not like that. He 'talked back' all the time. He wouldn't let a single point get by him. All it would take was a look. That's it. Didn't need a pen or paper, just a look."
"Therein lies the problem, I suppose. Without that line of communication, you can't gather your own thoughts enough to get them down. You don't know what the look he'll give that piece of paper will be."
"He probably won't even read it."
Clive doesn't respond, merely changes the tv channel once again. A commercial for Goody's Headache Powder ends and the picture is filled with the 'he' in question. Clive doesn't watch the promo. Instead, he watches Delilah out of the corner of his eye. She watches intently, her entire body almost humming with tension. He notes that a small, yet adoring, smile had appeared on her face. Clive hits the mute button after it ends, and looks over at Delilah.
"Really?"
She responds with sticking her tongue out at him while dialing a number on her cellphone.
"Voice mail, huh? Hopefully hooked wonder doesn't check these for you. I...I...hell, I dunno what I want to say. Or where to start. Every thought I have is followed with 'I should tell Mikey about that'. Every time something makes me laugh, I turn to look for you because I think you'd find it funny too. I...I miss you. But once something's broke, ya' gotta fix it. I wanna try, Mikey..."
"I still love you too."
She cuts off the call, letting out a shaky breath. Delilah stares down at it for a long moment before tossing it down on the couch. She looks at Clive and grins, settling back on the couch, cradling her mug in both hands.
"Really?"
"Really."
Laden with mugs and coffee pot, Clive walks out into the living room. He is greeted by the sight of everyone's favorite redhead curled up on the couch, scowling down at the pad of paper in her lap. As Clive sets everything down on the table, Delilah rips the page off, crumples it and tosses it behind her.
"Really?"
"Really," she replies, turning the scowl in Clive's direction. He smiles at her, heading back for the cream and sugar. A cellphone rings as he goes to the fridge. Clive glances toward his, sitting in a charger on the counter, but he can hear Delilah answering hers.
"Cherry's mortuary, you need a date, we'll dig one up for you? Hey Dave.....yeah, I figure fifty thou will work.....Can you do me a favor? Put about...ohhh....three thousand in a separate pile? Sweet.....yeah, later today. Can you be an even bigger hero and truck them up here? Nice....you too, Dave. You're awesome, just wanna say that....Later."
Clive returns with the cream and sugar, putting them on the table and pouring himself a cup. He glances past the couch to see a small colony of paperballs forming on the floor.
"All the ducks in a row now?"
"Coming together like a right chorus line, mmmm hmmm. Just gotta load it on the plane, fix up the rest when I get there and we're good to go."
"Really?"
Drawn by the coffee, Delilah gets up to fix up a cup as well. She notices Clive's rather pointed look toward her mess on the floor. Delilah shoots him a glare and ignores him in favor of her cup. He says nothing, merely chuckling as he shakes his head at her. Clive settles in an overstuffed leather chair and picks up the tv remote off of a stand next to him. Delilah takes her place back on the couch, tossing the entire notebook over her shoulder to join the rest.
"His words refuse to magically appear?"
"Why is it so hard, Clive?"
He smiled at her over his cup. "Because you care, darling girl. You feel you've wronged him, and it hurts you."
"Telling him that I'm sorry shouldn't be so hard. Never was. Not with him."
"Must have been, seeing as how he couldn't talk back."
"Not like that. He 'talked back' all the time. He wouldn't let a single point get by him. All it would take was a look. That's it. Didn't need a pen or paper, just a look."
"Therein lies the problem, I suppose. Without that line of communication, you can't gather your own thoughts enough to get them down. You don't know what the look he'll give that piece of paper will be."
"He probably won't even read it."
Clive doesn't respond, merely changes the tv channel once again. A commercial for Goody's Headache Powder ends and the picture is filled with the 'he' in question. Clive doesn't watch the promo. Instead, he watches Delilah out of the corner of his eye. She watches intently, her entire body almost humming with tension. He notes that a small, yet adoring, smile had appeared on her face. Clive hits the mute button after it ends, and looks over at Delilah.
"Really?"
She responds with sticking her tongue out at him while dialing a number on her cellphone.
"Voice mail, huh? Hopefully hooked wonder doesn't check these for you. I...I...hell, I dunno what I want to say. Or where to start. Every thought I have is followed with 'I should tell Mikey about that'. Every time something makes me laugh, I turn to look for you because I think you'd find it funny too. I...I miss you. But once something's broke, ya' gotta fix it. I wanna try, Mikey..."
"I still love you too."
She cuts off the call, letting out a shaky breath. Delilah stares down at it for a long moment before tossing it down on the couch. She looks at Clive and grins, settling back on the couch, cradling her mug in both hands.
"Really?"
"Really."
