OOC: that was far too easy.. can't be having that *g*
"Claire, it's me. It's Damon. It's all right. Everything's all right now."
She sniffed and lifted her head, listening. It certainly sounded like him.. and she really wanted to believe that it was. "Damon?"
"That's right - mind if I come in?"
"Everything's really ok? What were the gunshots?" Claire asked, wiping away a couple of tear tracks as she hurriedly disentangled herself from the nest of blankets. She was going to have to open the door for him, she realised, what with the dryer in the way. "I heard screaming - it sounded awful!"
Her foot touched something cold. Shit, the glass! I can't leave that on the floor!
Claire bent down gently, feeling for the item gently - she really didn't want to slice her fingers open, not with everything else in her body rebelling after the last few days - glad to find it quickly and safely. She straightened quickly, placing the sharp object on a shelf.. oh dear, head rush.
Taking a step to one side, Claire tried to steady herself against one of the washing machines. Success was limited: the machine wobbled on a broken leg, split floor tile, it didn't really matter - Claire found herself moving in yet another direction, then shrieked as she caught her foot in a blanket and landed hard on the floor.
"Claire?" Damon called through the door, rattling the knob and knocking loudly. "Are you ok?"
Pissed off beyond belief, Claire swore a blue streak. She might have landed on her backside rather than her front, but it hurt like a bastard - and so did her ankle.
"No, I'm not bloody ok - I've bloody well gone and sprained my ankle, and there's a bloody dryer blocking the door because I was a paranoid idiot!"
[Claire] That Was a Little Too Easy (tag MB, Locke, Kenzaki, Dean, Isabel, open)
"Claire, it's me. It's Damon. It's all right. Everything's all right now."
She sniffed and lifted her head, listening. It certainly sounded like him.. and she really wanted to believe that it was. "Damon?"
"That's right - mind if I come in?"
"Everything's really ok? What were the gunshots?" Claire asked, wiping away a couple of tear tracks as she hurriedly disentangled herself from the nest of blankets. She was going to have to open the door for him, she realised, what with the dryer in the way. "I heard screaming - it sounded awful!"
Her foot touched something cold. Shit, the glass! I can't leave that on the floor!
Claire bent down gently, feeling for the item gently - she really didn't want to slice her fingers open, not with everything else in her body rebelling after the last few days - glad to find it quickly and safely. She straightened quickly, placing the sharp object on a shelf.. oh dear, head rush.
Taking a step to one side, Claire tried to steady herself against one of the washing machines. Success was limited: the machine wobbled on a broken leg, split floor tile, it didn't really matter - Claire found herself moving in yet another direction, then shrieked as she caught her foot in a blanket and landed hard on the floor.
"Claire?" Damon called through the door, rattling the knob and knocking loudly. "Are you ok?"
Pissed off beyond belief, Claire swore a blue streak. She might have landed on her backside rather than her front, but it hurt like a bastard - and so did her ankle.
"No, I'm not bloody ok - I've bloody well gone and sprained my ankle, and there's a bloody dryer blocking the door because I was a paranoid idiot!"