ellectrical | (no subject)

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Elle had cut her hair, to a few inches below her shoulders. She didn't want to keep it too short anymore - yet again finding herself in a concrete building full of glass, cement, and metal walls had been enough - but she still had to be responsible. The available water supplies were rather limited. This made things simpler and efficient. Still, now that she's here, in the cool Scottish evening rather than buried beneath the desert, the way it tends to slip into her face whenever there's a breeze is much more noticeable.

She'd meant to come out here to jog, but without any thought to it, she heads toward the forest instead. There is no visible activity near the edge of it, but Elle stops at one of the first trees, and leans back against it.

It had only taken a buzz of instinct to find what has turned out to be a perfect spot. Quiet, secluded, with a shield against the wind and a view of the grounds that stretched all the way back to the choppy surface of the lake.

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Instead of pacing around the motel room or the bar, Sam had decided to put his restlessness to use by pacing around the lake instead.

At least it's got more room to move... and space to think.

Her vantage point works. Elle's eyes look away from the surface of the lake to settle on Sam instead.

She doesn't make any step toward him, but neither does she flinch or tense. Her only movement is the very slight tilt of her head.

He doesn't appear to notice her. Sam walks along, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the ground ahead of him in a brown study as he goes.

There's no sense of urgency or impatience to her movements - but eventually, Elle does straighten, moving away from the tree, and heads in his direction.

The flicker of motion at the corner of his eye catches his attention, and Sam reacts without thinking, spinning fast to face whoever - or whatever - is approaching.

"... Elle."

Embarrassment at his overreaction flashes through him, but better that than to lose the edge of instinct.

"Hi."

Her steps stop, but there's no other reaction. She looks neither affronted nor even startled by his movement.

"Hi."

It's more like an echo than an answer.

Then, still with little inflection, "I didn't mean to..."

Frighten? Startle? She still doesn't know the right words.

"Not your fault," he assures her. "Don't worry about it."

Sam shrugs, then shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and looks at her.

"It's been a while. How've you been?"

She doesn't answer immediately, instead taking the moment to continue the stride she'd broken.

Then, "Different."

It's the only response that makes sense in her mind.

"Different good, or different... not-good?"

Elle folds her arms, and stops a few feet away from him.

It still takes some thought, but -

"I think it can be both."

Then, certainly for the first time - "What about you?"

"... you know, I think you're right about that, come to think of it."

He sounds surprised at the realization, and then looks it when she follows up with her question.

"I'm doing okay, thanks."

She's quiet, either not knowing what to say, or not feeling the need to say anything.

Then, in such an even tone that it might sound disingenuous if it weren't so novel - "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Whatever's happening here, he's not following it.

Then again, it's Elle -- it's not like this is a new feeling, not where she's concerned.

She takes another moment, and then, her voice unchanged -

"Because I was so afraid of you."

"You were -- "

He can't possibly have heard her right, can he?

" -- afraid of me?"

"Yes."

She didn't get every answer she could have wanted, but there were some things that were so clear now. Like finally seeing the route through a maze.

"Or you made me afraid."

She supposes it's different. "But now I think you didn't mean to."

"You mean when I, when the demon, or--"

He falters into a brief beat of silence and shakes his head.

"Elle, I, I'm sorry," Sam stammers. "I swear I didn't mean to."

Her expression finally changes - she looks straight at him, eyes not narrowed but still so direct that there's just the slightest hint of suspicion in them.

Still, her voice is unchanged. "I wouldn't say this if I thought you did."

Elle pauses, and her arms drop to her side. Her gaze stays steady, however. "Even if you did, I don't think you could've known what you were doing."

If Elle hadn't understood, there was no reason to think he possibly could have.

Edited 2012-04-12 04:22 (UTC)

"I'm sorry anyway," he says, quietly.

She looks away, eyes settling on the lake instead. There's nothing cold or angry to it - she just has no answer for him (there's no need for his apology, so she can't accept it), nor anything immediate reason to continue her explanation.

Particularly if all that would do inflict this need on him to keep apologizing. It wasn't what she intended or wanted to impart on him.

Awkward.

He lets the silence hang between them for a few seconds, then pulls his hands back out of his pockets and shifts his weight on his feet.

"So..."

Now what?

"... uh, what've you been up to lately?"

Elle doesn't show any sign of feeling tense or awkward. Having gone still, her movement to look at Sam is like that of a toy that's been turned back on.

She glances down, then up.

"I don't have to talk about it."

Her tone is even, even close to gentle. You'd have thought he'd asked her not to.

"No," he agrees.

"You don't."

"I don't have to bother you."

It might be the more correct way to put it.

"It wouldn't be."

That's not quite how he means it, so Sam quickly amends,

"You wouldn't be."