runtowardsomething | (no subject)

She's in shock, Beverly hears someone say. That must be what it is, why she's gone so quiet, staring straight ahead at something indeterminate ahead of her. All things considered, they probably aren't wrong. At some point, she's been cleaned up, though she still feels grimy like she's covered in blood and is certain that lingering patches of it were missed, drying by her hairline and between her fingers and embedded under her nails. At some point, still something resembling coherent, she'd gotten her phone and called Hopper, not knowing what else to do or where else to go short of sneaking out, which would have been an impossibility when the staff is watching her like a fucking hawk. It's somewhere safe, at least, or presumably safe. Right now, she thinks anywhere would be better than here, and though there are people she would take with her if she could, the small handful of friends she's collected for herself, the most important thing is putting whatever distance she can between herself and the Home.

When she'd first shown up, she thought she was safe here. It was one thing Darrow had going for it — that, strange or not, it was better than home, that there was no one here who was going to hurt her. Something is horribly wrong, though. She's known that for a while, but she's all the more aware of it now, her throat thick and tight and the taste of copper lingering in her mouth even when the front door opens and a familiar figure comes in. The two staff members who've waited with her practically swarm him, simultaneously explaining what's happened and trying to make excuses for it, as if such a thing could even be possible, asking a few questions before they let him sign her out for the night.

Beverly has a small bag with her, just a few pieces of clothing, something to sleep in and something to change into. She gets to her feet and picks it up wordlessly, remaining silent until she's stepped out to the sidewalk, feeling for the first time in — how long has it been? Minutes, hours? — ages like she can actually start to breathe. "Thanks," she mumbles. "For coming to get me."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For half a second, Beverly thinks that there must be a catch. It's a thought she dismisses quickly enough, but that she can't help happening, either. This could too easily be too good to be true, and then what? There's no real reason for her to believe that, though. She called him tonight, not the other way around, and he's never once looked at her in a way that's made her feel uncomfortable. If that weren't the case, she wouldn't have come here in the first place. She just needs to remind herself of that safety, nothing she's ever been able to take for granted before.

"Are you sure?" she asks instead of admitting any of that. "I don't want to be kicking you out of your own room or anything."

"It's fine, kid. I end up falling asleep on the couch most nights anyway," he says, waving his hand. "At least this way I'm prepared and I have a pillow."

Leading the way down the hall, Hopper gestures at the bathroom and says, "Bathroom is in here if you want to have a proper shower or anything. Towels are in the closet. There's a robe in the bedroom, too. I never use it. It'll be too big on you, but you can use it if you want."

And he hopes she'll sleep well. That she'll be comfortable. Maybe she won't be able to forget what happened at the Home, but at least he can give her a place where she's safe.

"That sounds great," Beverly says, earnest. Shaken as she might still be, it really does. Tonight of all nights, she thinks having some space will be good for her, and this is more of it than she's had in months now, something far closer to privacy than the Home ever affords. She can actually try to relax, even if she isn't sure how successful she'll be, and not have to worry about sharing a room or anything of the sort. As much as she might like some of the other girls there, grateful especially for Eponine's presence when one of them is having a bad night, this is still a welcome change of pace. "I haven't had a room to myself in ages now."

"Well, it's all yours," Hopper says. "Nothin' much exciting in there, unfortunately, but there are a couple of books if you get bored. Or you can come back out and watch some TV with me for awhile."

If she's still freaked out, he wants to give her the option of company. Whatever the hell had happened in the Home tonight, he thinks it's got to be the kind of thing that sticks with a person, even if they try to forget. Maybe she feels better here and maybe she's safe, but if she closes her eyes and see the blood, then he wants her to be okay with coming out to sit with him. Sometimes a bit of company is all that's needed, even if they don't talk much.

"You need anything, you can just shout for me," he says, giving her a gentle shove down the hall. "But take your time, kid."