Elmo had tired himself out at art club, poor little guy; after the club meeting, some handwavy dancing around the dorms, and a few stories, he said night-night to Dorothy and went to bed
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At some point, there came a light knock on Claire's door.
Cal wasn't yet sure if he was coming around to comfort or mock. He was going to wait it out and see which way Claire's mood was blowing and let it take him from there.
At least he hadn't called her Elmo, which was the only reason Claire answered. "It's not locked," she called. She sat up to rub the sleep out of her eyes and pull her hair into a ponytail. "Come on in."
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Cal wasn't yet sure if he was coming around to comfort or mock. He was going to wait it out and see which way Claire's mood was blowing and let it take him from there.
[[ and SP = awesome ]]
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"No one's here," she called from under her pillow. "Go 'way."
[SP = love!]
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"Claire, it's me. Can I come in?"
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