Round Robin Part Eight
And so she walks straight ahead. On to that corner spot, where her car stays sullen and lonely.
She doesn’t remember anything from their earlier conversation regarding whose car should be used. Still, behind her, the thumping of his cane follows and resonates through the parking lot.
Their I'm not backing up rings in her ears suddenly, as she takes her steps forward and finally arrives next to her car. The sound behind her slows down but stops not.
"I'm driving," Cameron calls out. She isn’t sure why she does that; it's not like House can drive it. You know, with him being a cripple and all-
House seems to be as bewildered. He stays silent at first, frowning at her as he rounds the back of the car.
It’s slow to come but the scoffing appears at long last. "Who would want to drive this junk anyway?"
Cameron ignores him, unlocking the doors of the vehicle with a swift turn of the key. She glides inside and fastens her seatbelt, as House takes his place on the passenger's seat.
Her hands move to grip on to the steer. "Buckle up," she says, turning her face halfway towards House.
The frown is there again, although less visible. He doesn't have a rejoinder coming with that, though, reaching for the leather belt and slowly fastening it around his body. She knows he's eyeing her all the while but watching his cane limping between his legs is, at this time, preferable.
There's a click and the cane is then unhandled no more. Cameron looks at the fists that are now occupying it before averting her eyes to the owner's face. He's looking back at her still and she's wondering what she should say-or if she should say. Things.
He makes it easier for her. "I'll run the clock," he points out, tapping at his watch. Something she has said earlier about 5 hours suddenly makes her palms sweaty, and so she turns the ignition key-to turn on the AC.
The cool air brushes past them as she maneuvers the car out of the lot. Away from the hospital. To the carnival.
They haven't been on the road for-what it seems to be-one minute when House mutters next to her. "Where is this carnival, anyway?" he says, as if he's reading her mind.
She takes her time, watching the smooth asphalt before her instead. “You’ll see,” Cameron answers briefly.
Her reply vaporizes away with the AC, leaving them freezing and rigid once again. The silence brings her to contemplating. She has been so good today but she is, too, curious. The rear-view mirror hangs there, inviting and mocking at her at the same time.
She gives in and looks up.
House’s eyes are there already, waiting for hers. Cameron hears a quiet gasp that seems to be coming from her and quickly switches her view back to the road.
Beside her, House is fidgeting. And smirking, maybe. She never checks again to make sure. The objects in mirror are indeed larger than they appear.
She switches on the radio instead, if only to have something in tune. There’s no music coming out of the speakers; only a shrill voice of a male host. Hurried and out of breath, he reports, “-by this windy weather. A tree has fallen, everybody! Blocking roads, wrecking a car and hurting three people inside it and all. Stay with us-“