[backdated to before superzombies!!]

[cant_touch_this]

[Twelve hours, thirteen minutes, and forty-four seconds before the sudden insurgence of super-powered zombies in the campgrounds of Camp Eff You Die, Charlotte Charles was standing outside the residence of General Cornelia li Brittania preparing a long explanatory spiel as to why she was standing outside her residence as well as an equally long

Comments

[ascendthethorns]

[Ten seconds later, the door opens...]

Chuck?

[... and after a moment's pause, Cornelia steps aside to invite entrance.]

[cant_touch_this]

I'm really sorry for intruding like this without any warning. I just didn't know where else to go.

[ascendthethorns]

It's no intrusion. [gestures to the table & chairs] Would you like to sit?

[cant_touch_this]

Oh, thank you. [sitting down with a sigh] I know it's a lot to ask and I promise I'll be out of your hair tomorrow when I'll hopefully be able to think more rationally rather than so emotionally, but is there any way I could bunk here for the night? I won't take up much room, all I need is a spot on the floor and I'll be as cozy as a bug in a rug.

[ascendthethorns]

[Sits across from.]

It's fine. We have a few free rooms - you're welcome to use any one of them for as long as you may need.

[cant_touch_this]

I'm really grateful for that offer, Cornelia, but I don't want to impose anymore than I already have. I just need to let my head clear a bit and I couldn't really do that with Ned around.

[ascendthethorns]

Enough. The only impositions will come from these little monsters, I am sure.

[... said while she nudges a kitten away with her foot.]

Is there anything you wish to discuss?

[cant_touch_this]

[cracking a small smile at that]

These little furballs are about as monstrous as I am terrifying - which I hope I'm not at all because it's certainly not what I'm aiming for.

Do you know anything about residents of this camp receiving letters from people in their lives who have since shuffled off into the afterlife?

[ascendthethorns]

[WOEFUL GLANCE AT KITTIES.]

There is strength in numbers...

And no, I do not. Letters are sometimes delivered during the holidays, but only from those who've been here and gone. Why?

[cant_touch_this]

[pulling a letter out of her pocket and placing it on the table in front of you]

This is a letter from my dad. I've already gone over it with a fine-tooth comb and I am absolutely, positively, 100% convinced that it's from him.

[ascendthethorns]

[Taking and veeeery carefully looking it over.]

Your reasoning...?

[cant_touch_this]

I was completely engrossed with handwriting analysis for a period of time, almost to the point of obsession, and that combined with the amount of time I spent poring over Dad's old letters to some friends of his mean that I'm unwaveringly certain that it's from him. And there's also this!

[tugging on a string around her neck to reveal a big brass button hanging on it]

It came with the letter.

[ascendthethorns]

A button?

[cant_touch_this]

He used to call me his Button-Button. He'd always give me one to hold on to or sneak one into my coat pocket whenever we were going to be separated for longer than a day. It was his way of letting me know he was still watching over me.

[ascendthethorns]

It sounds like he was a kind man... how was it delivered to you?

[cant_touch_this]

I found it at The Pie Hole Lite pie stand in an enveloped with my name on it. Well, my given name "Charlotte"; Ned was really the only one who called me "Chuck" back then.