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[tearsthrulife]

If there was anything Rahne was good at, it was rolling with whatever was thrown at her. This situation was unexpected, to be sure, and completely unlike anything she'd had to deal with before, but she was determined nevertheless not to let the breakup - and Lord, it sounded juvenile to describe it as such - throw her off too much. There was just

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[scotsfriction]

"How goes it?"

Those were the first words out of Amy's mouth as the redhead traipsed into the laundry room. There were only a handful of redheads on the island for starters and Amy was determined to know all of her ginger brethren. If she happened to be a little bit biased towards the wee ginger Scot, then that was natural. They had to stick together after all.

Leaning against the table, she absently prodded at a pile of half-folded clothes before wrinkling her nose at the shirt. "That's mingin."

[tearsthrulife]

"Aye, tell me about it," Rahne said with a scoff, though it was good-natured, accompanied with a roll of her eyes. It was her own fault, after all, and not so consequential that it was worth making a scene over. Decent clothing was difficult to come by around here, it was true, but this was just one shirt. It wasn't the end of the world.

Shoving the shirt into the dryer anyway, and tossing a few pieces of clothing in after it, she shrugged. "Apart from the shirt, it goes alright. Been better, been worse."

[scotsfriction]

Sliding up onto the table, Amy swung her legs back and forth. She might occasionally border on oblivious but she wasn't stupid especially not where her friends were concerned. She knew that Rahne was having a hard go of it, but Amy wasn't about to pressure her into saying anything. Lord knows that Amy appreciated a good avoidance tactic as much as the next person.

"Of course, of course. Do you want to talk about it? Or like...shout a bit? I like doing those things. We can burn the shirt."

This was her attempt at being helpful. It wasn't working half as well as it should have been.

[tearsthrulife]

"Burning the shirt, I'll go for," Rahne said, more thoughtful than the situation probably called for, eyebrows raising in a look that bordered on intrigued. There was no real need, the catastrophe a small one, but hell, it could be fun. She probably wasn't going to wear the thing again, anyway, and it seemed a waste to shove it back into the clothes box when it would just be swallowed up or whatever, gone when the next person walked by. "Shouting, enjoyable as it can be, might be a wee bit counterproductive. Not opposed to talking, though."

[wishesandsmoke]

There were things which didn't change. It didn't matter where home was or if it was her old life or her new, whether things were mundane or magical, there would always be the ordinary things to take care of. Truthfully, Eden was grateful for it. Laundry was the same wherever a girl went, simple, something for her hands to do while her mind wandered. She set her bag on the dryer beside her own, opening it to check that her clothes were actually dry, then glanced back at the clothes box. That there was a familiar face there was hardly unexpected. After a few years, most people became pretty familiar, and though she and Rahne were hardly close, she'd come to like the other girl. "Hey," she said. "Haven't seen you around in a while. How's it going?"

[tearsthrulife]

In a way, it was a relief to realize that it was Eden who'd joined her in the laundry room, someone whose company she enjoyed, but who was unrelated to the situation with her and George. Rahne could deal with the fallout, and had been doing so just fine, but that didn't mean she wanted anyone else to have to, and for those mutual friends she'd left caught in the middle, she couldn't help feeling guilty. For now, for a while longer, she could avoid that. For that almost as much as the sight of Eden herself Rahne had to smile, just a little. "Oh, it's alright," she said with a shrug, mostly halfhearted. "Things've been a bit mad, but they're settling down. How've ye been?"

[wishesandsmoke]

Eden shrugged. "Fine," she said. "Nothing out of the ordinary." Everything here was strange, yes, but she'd grown accustomed as it was possible to be to that kind of madness ages ago. It was almost comforting, really, and whatever happened, she'd take the bizarre over nothing at all. She nodded to Rahne, half-grinning in return. "Because of all that stuff underground? Or because your shirts are changing colors? The madness, I mean."

[tearsthrulife]

"Oh, well, a bit of the stuff underground, too," Rahne said, head tipping to the side. She'd been down to Rapture a couple of times when it first arrived, too curious - too restless, really - not to give it a look, but then so much had happened that she hadn't gone again, and she was alright with that. She didn't trust the place, anyway, the whole of it leaving her nothing short of unsettled, grateful though she was for the opportunity to kick some ass. Mostly, when she needed excitement, she preferred venturing out to dinosaur territory, not least because it was less confined. None of that was the real point, though, leading her to shrug, as casual as possible given the circumstances. "Mostly it's just - I broke up with my boyfriend a while back, have been trying to figure things out since."

[chasinghumanity]

Mitchell tried to keep out of drama. It seemed like, no matter what he did, drama always found a way of pulling him back into her painfully sharp little clutches, but for what it was worth he tried to avoid it. Side step it. Keep to the fringes and interject only when the need arose. It was this attitude that kept him out of this ridiculous talk of Annie moving out and out of Rahne’s sights. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; he did. But he also knew he couldn’t exactly help the situation. Rahne never struck him as the weepy type and short of a shoulder to cry on, he had nothing to offer.

He wasn’t avoiding her though. That would be childish. When he strolled into the laundry room, he paused at the sound of her groan, for a second suspecting something more emotionally charged than bemoaning a pink t-shirt. He settled into a faint grin as he wandered over. “I’m guessin’ this isn’t what you had in mind,” he said.

[tearsthrulife]

That Rahne hadn't seen Mitchell since she'd broken up with George wasn't a surprise to her. In fact, she'd deliberately made a point of steering clear of most of George's friends where she could, or at least the ones he was closest to, some of the others just inevitable on that front, though she'd been lying low as it was, well acquainted with Wolverine's floor. What did come as a surprise was the ease of the greeting, one which made the corners of her mouth pull up in a smile, albeit a not especially amused one, before she could stop to think about it.

Maybe she was better off than she'd expected.

"Ye're looking at a t-shirt that used to be plain white," she said dryly, tossing it into a dryer with more force than was strictly necessary. Clothes probably weren't the best outlet, but she was running short on those as it was. "And what happens when ye apparently don't think to separate things by color."

[chasinghumanity]

Mitchell winced in a companionable way, both at the altered t-shirt and the strength with which Rahne shoved it into the dryer. He could commiserate on the first point and sympathize with the second. True, he had never had the luxury of having a mostly normal relationship just end on him, but he could understand how frustrating the situation could be.

"Yeah," he drawled, glancing at the rest of the clothes in the washer, wondering if they'd suffered the same fate. "That's why I stick to darks." He waved a hand over himself to illustrate the point: red vest, gray plaid shirt, black jeans. "No muss, no fuss, no... pink. Ever."

[tearsthrulife]

"A wonderful motto if ever I heard one," Rahne deadpanned, though for her, it tended to be mostly true anyway. This, as far as she was concerned, was going to be a one-time fluke. When it came to colors, she wasn't really all that picky, but pink just wasn't something she had any interest in wearing. If nothing else, it just really didn't suit her.

And it was entirely possible that she was giving the subject more serious thought than was necessary to avoid more serious topics at hand, but she hardly thought she could be blamed for that. The whole situation was so screwed up, there wasn't much else to do.

Waving one hand in his direction, she arched an eyebrow. "All those darks don't get too warm in the heat, though?"

[howmanylives]

"Say what you will about my fashion choices, but you can't deny there are definite advantages to having a monochromatic wardrobe," said Jamie, popping up beside Rahne with his own bag of laundry in hand. While the statement would have been unequivocally true at home, the same couldn't be said for on the island; he still wore the trench coat more often than not, and he tended to shy away from more outlandish patterns, but there was the odd white shirt thrown in with the sea of greens and blacks and blues that comprised his every day outfits.

Throwing his clothes on top of a dryer as he opened the adjacent washer, he afforded Rahne a thoughtful glance, taking note of her general demeanor; break ups were hardly the most pleasant experiences in the world, even if this one was plenty more amicable than any he'd personally had in the past. Then again, he supposed that just made him all the more noir; the true detective never married.

Of course, if his dupes had anything to say about it, that was a rule he might break in regards to Layla."

[tearsthrulife]

"Ye know, in this case, I might just be inclined to agree with ye," Rahne said with a short laugh, more good-natured than it could have been. The shirt turned pink was an inconvenience, to be sure, and she hated the fact of having been so scattered that she let it happen, but there were bigger things to be concerned with. Or to be trying not to think about, as the case may be. Tossing the shirt into a dryer and reaching for a few more, fortunately not discolored, articles of clothing to put in after it, she smiled, just a little, small and crooked. "How're ye doing, Jamie?"

[howmanylives]

"Shouldn't that be my line?" replied Jamie, brows arching, slightly. Rahne running away from uncomfortable situations was nothing new -- he had enough personal experience with that facet of her personality to not be surprised by it, especially given the circumstances -- but that didn't make it any less awkward, much as a part of him was glad that she wasn't running away from him, for once. Even so, George had seemed like a decent enough guy, if a bit high strung -- almost like Rictor, in that regard.

"On a scale from one to surly, though, you seem... Somewhere around okay. But maybe that's just wishful thinking."

[tearsthrulife]

Whether or not it ought to have been Jamie's line, Rahne didn't care. She had no desire to dwell more than necessary on what some might have called her problems, and wanted even less to be treated like something fragile, like there was any real reason for her not to be alright. The situation sucked, yes, but there was nothing to do about it, and it certainly wasn't the worst way she'd left before, something she was sure that Jamie was aware of. That was one helpful thing about having him here, even if she was fairly certain that it wasn't his favorite trait of hers.

"Well, on a scale from one to surly, I'm probably leaning more towards surly, but that doesn't make me any less okay for it," she said, shrugging. "Be doing a lot better if I hadn't inadvertently dyed a shirt pink."

[oscaroscaroscar]

"Oh no," Felix gasped, horror-stricken as he hurried over to Rahne, the quiche in his hands momentarily forgotten. Having spotted her heading downstairs earlier, he'd seized upon the moment to whip together a little something on the fly to cheer her up, but some things outstripped even condolence quiches in terms of importance. "Oh, no no no no. 'When colors meet white, nice garments take flight,' that's terrible! Are you okay?"

[tearsthrulife]

"It hasn't mortally wounded me, if that's what ye're asking," Rahne deadpanned, brows furrowing slightly as she turned to face Felix (certain from the start that it couldn't have been anyone else). She was quickly distracted, though, and further confused, by what he held in his hands. In the kitchen, it would have made sense; in the laundry room, though, she had no idea what was going on. "Felix, what's that ye've got there?"

[oscaroscaroscar]

"This?" Felix asked, still visibly distraught over the shirt situation. As much as he didn't want to just gloss over it, though, neither did he want to end up lessening the impact of his offering when he'd been asked a direct question, so he did his best to swallow his concern for the time being. "Oh, this!"

Straightening his back (as much as his already impeccable posture would allow, anyway), he held the small dish out in front of him with a flourish, a simple cheese quiche delicately garnished with diced bits of fruit in the vague shape of a sun peeking over the horizon. "It's for you! To see you through your time of grief."

[tearsthrulife]

"My... time of grief," Rahne repeated, words slow and drawn-out, puzzled. Grieving was hardly how she'd have chosen to describe herself, even coping making too much of it. She managed, that was what she did; in this case, she'd just chosen to do so from a distance. Still, still, the gesture was a nice one, and not unappreciated, when truthfully, she'd have expected Felix to side with George in the whole ordeal. Schooling her expression into a smile, she reached out to take the quiche - an unconventional gift at a time like this, to be sure, but not unappreciated. "Well, thanks. That's very kind of ye."