revivalproject | (Network & Log) somebody to lean on

[the video feed cuts in to show Clarice, freshly showered, wet hair pulled back, dressed in the silk pajamas she arrived in - because she needed a little comfort, a little piece of home. she's got a cup of tea cradled in her hands, and while she still looks a little tired, her eyes are clear and present]

Hey, everybody. I think I've met most of you by now, if only by seein' you at the community meeting a month or so ago, but if you don't recall, my name's Clarice Starling. I know we've all been through a lot the last few weeks, and this isn't a place to point fingers or blow off steam... I just want to let you all know that I used to work with victims of violent crime, so I now a thing or two about lending an ear after people've been through trauma. If you feel comfortable with coming to talk, my door's open. I'm two floors down from the Deep End, the one with the metal star hangin' on the door. I'll be happy to take the time.

☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

WHO: Clarice Starling & You
WHERE: Clarice's room (or anywhere else you might want to meet up)
WHAT: Talking out the aftermath of Bill-E-tropolis
WHEN: The week after they all return to Temba
WARNINGS: Discussion of trauma, flavors vary! Please label your top levels for folks.

A: Clarice's Room
The metal star on the door Clarice mentioned is a decoration she picked up on Coruscant - made of some sort of light, fine alloy that shines green like light underwater at the right angle. She hasn't done much else to make the little run-down hotel room hers yet, save for set up a bundle of blankets and pillows in one corner to sleep on, and put in hooks to hang her clothing on the wall. A few pads of paper sit next to the bundle, and there are a few extra pillows for company to sit on. She's already sketched a few things: vistas from Coruscant, a few rough portraits of familiar faces from home, before they're too lost to memory. She's no Da Vinci, but they're passable enough.

When the door opens, she's sitting on her makeshift bed, one of the pads in her lap, making herself a list of the tasks she wants to catch up on. At the sight of a familiar face, she smiles.

"Hey, come on in."

B: Dealer's Choice
(Start your own TL if you want, she's flexible.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, Kyle," she said, wincing, moving to see if she had anything that would pass for a bandage among her belongings. Sure enough, there was a travel medkit from Coruscant, and in the blink of an eye she was bandaging his finger as she listened.

"And you were happy with them, so ... oh, that's gotta hurt like hell. I'm so sorry."

Kyle is too dumbfounded by the bandaging to stop it. He's used to picking or biting at hangnails - a nervous habit he's had for years.

"Yeah," he admits. "Really happy. Like, I finally understood... well. Whatever." A shrug.

"Anyway. They don't think it means shit. So. What are you gonna do, you know?"

"First time I've heard anyone call love 'well, whatever'." She gave him a knowing, sympathetic look as she finished fixing him up.

"It's possible they're just shell-shocked. Give them time to think about it. Who knows, maybe once they think about it a little more they'll realize that there may still be something there."

"It's a pretty apt description all the same, isn't it?" he asked, almost smiling.

But then he shook his head. "No," he said with a tone of familiar resignation. "Sometimes you just gotta accept that you're not who they really want. And that's okay."

He studied his bandaged finger with some amusement. "It's okay. And I can't believe you just did that, heh. You're like a mom."

"In some situations, yeah," she admitted, though her heart broke all over again when he said and that's okay. As much as she wanted to help him not hurt ... she couldn't fix everything as easily as a bandage to the finger. She was so busy wool-gathering about it that when he called her a mom, her eyes widened.

"Wait, what?" She laughed softly, her cheeks coloring. "Oh Lord, no, I'm not mom material. I grew up in an orphanage, so when I got older I was always getting asked to help mind the younger kids. They were always short on staff. It's ... believe me. At no point do you ever have to worry that I'm tryin' to be your mom. Just an older, possibly much less cooler friend."

"Oh, don't worry, you can't out-mom my actual mom. She's like... a force of nature, the mother of all moms." He studied his bandaged finger, aware that he was very close to crying. He wouldn't let himself - he was a grown man who absolutely didn't miss his mother.

"You never got adopted? My little brother is adopted. From Canada."

She put a hand on his shoulder briefly, but didn't comment. Sometimes you just had to let someone be with their emotions, and not make of them.

"Nope, never did. I aged out of the system and they put me up in a cheap little women's home the church ran." She shrugged it off. "I put everything into my schoolwork, got a scholarship to UVA, and once I was there, I lived in the dorms. First place that was ever really mine."

Kyle nodded at that. "I lived the dorm life, too," he said. "Was literally almost done when I woke up here. In the fall I was gonna have to find other accommodations 'cause Boston U doesn't let you live in residence if you're going on to Law."

He fell quiet again, frowning lightly.

"Anyway. So. Whatever, right? We're here now. You're really doing okay?"

"Lets you do a lot of figurin' out, doesn't it," she said knowingly. "And a little more goofin' off, to boot. ... Which I could stand for some of, if I'm bein' honest. Other than listenin' to folks all day and workin' at the diner, I'm about to go out of my skull."

Kyle actually managed a genuine grin. "Petition to change the diner name to the Ginger Grill," he said. "Between you and me... But yeah."

He looked around the room and hauled himself up. "Well. If you're okay, I'm gonna bail. I feel kinda like I just dropped in to whine, and I don't like to do that."

"Only if we've got gingers to grill," she winked, stretching as she, too, got to her feet. "But that's a very acquired taste. I'm not bailin' on you, mind. We're just gonna go do somethin' more fun. ... You wanna see the course I helped Lauri-Ell set up? Or is there anything cool around here you could show me?"

"What course is that?" Immediate interest. If it's a new thing in the city, he wants to know about it.

"Pfft, you've probably seen it all already."

"It's an obstacle course," she grinned. "She helped me find the materials to set it up, but it's a replica of the one we used to have to run at Quantico. Ramps, climbing nets, ropes. I made a couple different paths, a hard one and an easy one."

"She's kinda awesome. I'm always a little worried she'll snap me in half by accident, but she's nice." His eyes light up. "Like at Quantico? Dope! And I could try it?"

At his comment about Lauri-Ell snapping him in half, Clarice laughed. "If she did, I'm sure she'd bend herself over backwards tryin' to put you back together."

His enthusiasm for the course warms her heart, and she can't help but think a little of John Brigham, how he and Crawford might be a little proud of her for it. But that's silly, and selfish, and she waves the thought away.

"You sure can, any time. Just let me know and I'll meet you there, walk you through it."

If he knew, Kyle would deliver a speech on how the people you look up to are often more proud of you than you know, or something. Luckily for Clarice, he did not.

"Oh, I'll take you up on that. Okay. I'm gonna get out of your hair."

He paused. "And, uhm. Thanks."

Very luckily: she would've swatted him for being a bit of a dork.

"I look forward to it, we'll have ourselves some fun." She flashed him a smile, fighting back the urge to hug him goodbye. She'd given him enough mom vibes for one day. "Any time, Kyle. You take care've yourself."

(Network & Log) somebody to lean on - forward-dated

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