The Perk, Friday Evening

[wrongkindofsith]

Most people would not have considered spending most of the day with a tequila hangover a good thing, but anyone who actually expected Cara to deal with, well, anything, like most people did clearly had not actually met her. As it was, spending the day with a splitting head gave her something to focus on which wasn't that her dead father currently wasn't, and an excuse for the churning in her stomach.

But now that the hangover had worn off, and Cara actually had that the sick feeling in her gut had nothing to do with a hangover, and everything to do with the fact her father was sitting across the table from her. You know, when she was actually able to look at him, instead of the half-full coffee cup on the table.

[Open. SP is a must for the new few hours though. Nevermind]

Comments

[putsfishiesback.livejournal.com]

Sitting across a table in awkward silence because she looked liked she was going to bolt whenever he said anything the actually a step up from yesterday.

Figuring out how to make Cara happy (or at the very least not utterly miserable) had been so much easier when she was nine.

[wrongkindofsith]

That was at least in part because Cara had been a much happier person when she was nine.

Besides, what could they actually talk about that wouldn't make him hate her even more?

[putsfishiesback.livejournal.com]

If he knew the rut Cara's thought's were stuck in he'd at least have a place to start, but since he couldn't read narrative, he was just as stuck as she was.