- room 301 - later sunday morning - 6/7 -
The first call was to Eliot.
It was one thing to rage and cry and be upset and know that he was just in the next room, there if she needed him, and quite another to have him who-knew-where. The phone was a lovely invention, though. Eliot had no idea why Fiona was upset, but he took the jabs and the mocking with the understanding that she needed it, and she did need it. By the end of the phonecall, she slipped in a somewhat uncharacteristic thank you and even promised to email him about something he might like doing.
The second call was to Cee, who was thankfully the one who picked up the phone. Her Great-grandmother tried a few times to pass the phone to her Mother, but Fiona refused to speak to her and used That Kind of Voice to make it clear, so Cee stopped asking. Instead, she told her about her new clothes and some of her friends and the class she was taking so she could make clothes if she wanted to just as Cee used to make clothes for them. That they'd be in something like spandex, well, that she left out.
The third call was to her father. She didn't know why she felt the need to call him, but his smooth, almost hypnotic voice over the phone was strangely calming and the oddly germane admonishments to take care of herself and do well made her feel better in ways she couldn't quite define. The tidbits he provided about his travels made her wonder if she shouldn't have accepted his invitation and avoided all this rage and empty aching, but she didn't voice it since she was well aware that she wasn't quite ready for that kind of thing yet. Neither was Eliot and when it came to that kind of situation, she wasn't going to be separated from him.
Once she was done with her phonecalls, she settled on the bed with one of her legal texts and started the research that she'd been unable to focus on for Miss Cabot on Tuesday. Hopefully Jennifer would come by soon, if only to give her something a little more lively to focus on. The precedents in her text were not cutting it after radio last night.
[for one, but very much open]
It was one thing to rage and cry and be upset and know that he was just in the next room, there if she needed him, and quite another to have him who-knew-where. The phone was a lovely invention, though. Eliot had no idea why Fiona was upset, but he took the jabs and the mocking with the understanding that she needed it, and she did need it. By the end of the phonecall, she slipped in a somewhat uncharacteristic thank you and even promised to email him about something he might like doing.
The second call was to Cee, who was thankfully the one who picked up the phone. Her Great-grandmother tried a few times to pass the phone to her Mother, but Fiona refused to speak to her and used That Kind of Voice to make it clear, so Cee stopped asking. Instead, she told her about her new clothes and some of her friends and the class she was taking so she could make clothes if she wanted to just as Cee used to make clothes for them. That they'd be in something like spandex, well, that she left out.
The third call was to her father. She didn't know why she felt the need to call him, but his smooth, almost hypnotic voice over the phone was strangely calming and the oddly germane admonishments to take care of herself and do well made her feel better in ways she couldn't quite define. The tidbits he provided about his travels made her wonder if she shouldn't have accepted his invitation and avoided all this rage and empty aching, but she didn't voice it since she was well aware that she wasn't quite ready for that kind of thing yet. Neither was Eliot and when it came to that kind of situation, she wasn't going to be separated from him.
Once she was done with her phonecalls, she settled on the bed with one of her legal texts and started the research that she'd been unable to focus on for Miss Cabot on Tuesday. Hopefully Jennifer would come by soon, if only to give her something a little more lively to focus on. The precedents in her text were not cutting it after radio last night.
[for one, but very much open]