log; open

[luthored]

Who: Lana Luthor & YOU
What: Returning home from Libet with the first group.
When: November 20th [Afternoon & Evening].
Where: In the city and at Lana's house.
Rating: PG-13, at least. Half the people she knows are vulgar douchebags.

Comments

THE WALK HOME

[luthored]

Lana has looked, and felt, better. Her stride is actually a normal pace, but then that's all part of the pain-resistance training, isn't it? Honestly right now she wants to say it can go blow itself, but she's not that vulgar. The limp is still a bit hard to hide completely, but it's subtle. Her appearance alone might be enough to scare off the average bystander.

She's changed into her spare clothes (considering the others had been torn in the crash), but they were the ones she'd worn during the first half of the expedition, so they, along with her, are covered in dirt, mud, sweat, and splatters of something dark and sticky. The only thing keeping her hair from looking like total crap is that ponytail, not to mention it helps hide the bump she sustained. She's got a few scrapes and bruises, a few band-aids here and there, but nothing visibly serious. ...Basically she looks a lot like everyone else who returned today

[echivoc]

Cross forgot about time, whoops, and is now going through town to head back to the castle. Of course, he took a shortcut and now believes he simply did a 180 and is no closer to the stupid castle. Women and drinks do that to a guy.

Ah, whatever, it was a nice night out.

He shall notice Lana as he rounds a corner - not that he can tell it's her from the distance between them.

[luthored]

Meanwhile it's more than easy for Lana to spot him. Not many people have that hair, man. She isn't really looking to socialize right now, but since she did just get patched up and she hasn't seen Cross in awhile, she finds herself slowing anyway, lifting her hand to begin a wave.

And then she looks a little harder, noticing that his stride isn't as....graceful as normal. Assuming he's either drunk or injured, and either is worth investigating, she closes the distance much more quickly, waving again to try to get his attention.

"Cross?"

AT HOME

[luthored]

Almost as soon as she unlocks the door and steps through into the foyer, she feels better. The semi-shredded and now half empty pack is dropped on the floor and she crouches down to greet the black lab puppy that yaps and bounds over to greet her excitedly. Of course there's a chance Damon or Crowley might be lurking about, so she calls out to see if anyone responds a few times while checking the rooms. She knows both of them had offered to drop by occasionally to feed Shadow and let him out, and she really hopes neither of them are there right now.

Once satisfied that she has some blessed privacy, Lana immediately heads for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door (one never knows with her companions) and stripping off her clothes. Rather, peeling them off is what it seems more like, and it sucks. At least now she has a chance to actually survey the damage in the mirror, and it makes her wince. Underneath her clothes, she really does look like one big walking bruise, a mix of old and new. Perhaps the training with Wesley and

[yeahihidmypants]

He wasn't sure how he ended up in these tense situations with Lana, but he was as stubborn as she was, so he wasn't going to just give in. She was someone from back home that he knew he could rely on - even if he wasn't quite sure about her judgement about dangerous people.

The truth was that Damon was dangerous. Oliver was friends with Fred and Cordelia and even though he had opted to keep the incidents that he'd heard about from Cordelia as a personal matter, he still wasn't comfortable with him being close to Lana. It reminded him of Lex. Of how Lana was sure she had it under control and yet all Oliver could be stuck with was the memory that he was the one that made the choice - that took the risk. He was the one that killed Lex

[luthored]

She wakes to the distant sound of puppy barks, which really aren't all that alarming, but certainly sharp and impossible to ignore. Then it gets sharper, and she quickly realizes that part's actually the doorbell.

Groggy and a bit confused on what time it is, Lana slides out of bed and hugs her robe tighter about her figure, tightening the sash and combing her fingers through her hair as she trudges down the stairs and over to the door.

Having already seen that it was Oliver from her security monitor, she unlocks the deadbolt and chain before making him wait any longer, but she makes a point of not opening the door quite all the way, blinking out at him as she again tries to judge the time of day by the light, or lack thereof.

"Oliver? What is it?"

[yeahihidmypants]

He frowns a bit at the lack of full-door opening, but he's pretty sure he woke her up. There's instant regret.

In a peace offering gesture, he lifts his hand up to reveal the small container of soup. It's not exactly small, but it's still soup. "I come with soup. I made it myself." See, he can make more than just breakfast foods.