Lee Everett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rightchoices) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2013-12-29 02:49 pm
rightchoices) wrote in paradisalogs2013-12-29 02:49 pm
Entry tags:
we could talk about the lives we've led
Who: Lee and anyone!
What: Visitation hours are open at Clem's bedside while she's unconscious for his canon update. Feel free to tag each other, too! Bracketspam or prose are both A+ fine.
When: December 27th-Jan 2nd
Where: Clementine's room.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe? Will update if content changes.
On the first day, when Lee sits at all, he perches on the edge of her bed and waits for her to wake. A protective vigil, maybe, or a manifestation of guilt that he'd let this happen to her at all. (Rationally, he knew that there was nothing he could have done. Things like this happen. It's life, and there's no way to get around it.)
On the second day, he drags a stool over, and barely speaks.
Finally, on the third, he wishes up a high backed chair that is more comfortable than it looks. He keeps the area around it tidy, but the stack of books and notebooks grow. He doesn't shave, but he eats enough to keep him going. Showers and changes early every morning, feeds and takes Clementine's puppy outside for a few minutes, just out of habit; he doesn't want he recoiling in disgust when she does finally wake.
Regardless, Lee will be in Clementine's room almost the entire week, eyes probably on some sort of book in his lap, though he can, occasionally and if the door is opened quietly enough, be found either talking or reading to her. In short, he's the picture of a father, worried sick about a silent child, and nothing short of the castle's magic itself could get him to leave for any extended period.
What: Visitation hours are open at Clem's bedside while she's unconscious for his canon update. Feel free to tag each other, too! Bracketspam or prose are both A+ fine.
When: December 27th-Jan 2nd
Where: Clementine's room.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe? Will update if content changes.
On the first day, when Lee sits at all, he perches on the edge of her bed and waits for her to wake. A protective vigil, maybe, or a manifestation of guilt that he'd let this happen to her at all. (Rationally, he knew that there was nothing he could have done. Things like this happen. It's life, and there's no way to get around it.)
On the second day, he drags a stool over, and barely speaks.
Finally, on the third, he wishes up a high backed chair that is more comfortable than it looks. He keeps the area around it tidy, but the stack of books and notebooks grow. He doesn't shave, but he eats enough to keep him going. Showers and changes early every morning, feeds and takes Clementine's puppy outside for a few minutes, just out of habit; he doesn't want he recoiling in disgust when she does finally wake.
Regardless, Lee will be in Clementine's room almost the entire week, eyes probably on some sort of book in his lap, though he can, occasionally and if the door is opened quietly enough, be found either talking or reading to her. In short, he's the picture of a father, worried sick about a silent child, and nothing short of the castle's magic itself could get him to leave for any extended period.
no subject
"I know that look. Joel gets that way when Ellie so much as stubs her toe, or he sees some kid trip in the street, or when anyone so much as mentions a kid in distress. Once a dad, always a dad."
no subject
So he takes the keychain from her and uncaps his own beer, shooting a subtly grateful look down at it before pulling a long drink from it. "Never actually had any kids of my own. I mean..." He tosses the keychain back at her. "Clementine counts. Still a little weird to think that way sometimes, though."
no subject
"Yeah. I used the 'D' word on Joel a few months ago and he was a little upset by it at first, but he knows it's more or less true. It can't be much different for you and Clem. It's hard to look after someone for months, maybe a year, and not bat an eye when it comes to their safety."
Which is fine by Tess, as long as she doesn't get too much attitude for playing 'bad cop' when the men are too high on fatherhood to think objectively.
"But hey, what do I know? I never had kids, either. Never even been married."
no subject
No, he's not going to remark on her seating choice. No point to, not now.
"But - the world fell apart a long time ago for you, didn't it? People still do that whole song and dance? Get married?" It's hard to imagine his own world ever being stable enough for that ever again.
no subject
She considers her conversation with Joel again, the one they'd had just after Halloween about what their relationship would be if their world hadn't been so terrifying. They'd be married, and maybe have kids, and real jobs, and all those things. Tess can't help but give a faint smile, and then she laughs.
Do people still get married?
"Yeah, yeah, they do," Tess says, amused. "People still fall in love and have relationships and stuff, even after twenty years. People still have kids. It might not be white picket fences and golden retrievers, but life goes on when you're not in immediate crisis."
She opens the take-out box. Orange chicken and rice.
"I mean, it's not like Joel and I knew each other before all this stuff happened."