Action; Santa Destroy Hotel with Claire Stanfield [ Backdated to grab bag virus shenanigans ]
It had been forty-seven days since Chane Laforet had agreed to stay with Claire Stanfield at his hotel in Santa Destroy. Between his eccentric, though well-meaning behavior, the strange people she had come to observe over the community, and her time spent in the company of Jacuzzi Splot and his gang, Chane could feel herself slowly changing.
The initial discomfort of being in close proximity with Claire, and often, had been long gone. He respected her space, and she accepted the fact that Claire was quite the explorer, often trying to find things to cater to his short attention span. They had done enjoyable activities together, and usually it seemed like things were natural and as they should be. Once in a while, however, Chane would be watching a movie with Claire, and the leading actor and actress would get a bit cozy. It was an awkward situation to be put in, and she'd try her best not to make any eye contact for the rest of the day. They had wonderful outings, and Claire always made sure to show Chane a good time. He truly felt like a good friend to her at this point, and Chane was certain that was all she was ready for, and all she cared to have with him at the moment.
However, there were...complications. She'd witnessed the community become virus-ridden, en masse, and observed with a calm detachment (though no hint of vague amusement -- Chane was apathetic to the suffering of others at the least, and somewhat sympathetic at the most). It didn't take long for her to mentally concoct a few scenarios, however, of Claire becoming hit with one of these viruses, and for some strange reason that she could not fathom, she was not afraid of him becoming traumatized (his mental fortitude was too great), or physically damaged (he was invincible as far as she was concerned). Instead, the seemingly spontaneous fear in Chane Laforet's mind was that he'd be struck with one of the romantically-inclined viruses that she'd both seen and heard of (and worse! What if he already had? She can't even hold him accountable for such things, right?).
She wasn't sure why the thought bothered her so much. It instilled a small sense of panic, almost, and made her body rush with adrenaline, as if she were protecting something precious from a threat. Her fears, which had yet to wash away, about the truth of Claire's love, his loyalty, and just how happy he was being her friend had begun to set in. She hadn't ever had someone simply enjoy her company, and it was strange that her life had changed so abruptly and for her to trust it so naively. Surely, with his ideas on love, he could be happy with just about anyone else with a virus, right?
Chane decided there was no harm in taking some precautions, convincing herself it was for the benefit of her companion and in his best interest. After all, who knows what those viruses could make him do? Even if it was almost impossible to imagine Claire regretting, well, anything.
He was so unpredictable in some ways. So hard to figure out. She still couldn't believe any of this was happening, and so she couldn't rely on her own scrupulous nature and (unbeknown to her, totally socially inadequate) analysis to come up with a good method of prevention. So Chane turned to outlets of information for clues, such as what she had watched and read around her regarding matters of the heart.
Chane Laforet had left a note on the kitchen table that she went out to get gardening supplies, and would be back by noon, and here she was, at noon, at the door of his hotel. Slung over her shoulder was a light bag with rope and handcuffs inside, accompanied by a couple of gardening tools, just so she wouldn't feel bad about lying. Her right hand clutched a bouquet of roses, which she tried to obscure from vision and hide behind her back.
She knocked twice on the door with determination.