and let's join forces; we've got our guns and horses

[floozyfacade]

It's practically cliché, Olive knows, to think or say how quickly time flies by on the island, but she'd be lying if she said it didn't. In the grand scheme of things, three months is not very long at all, but it seems to have gone by in an instant. She has to wonder if the same will be true of the next nine, if she'll soon have passed an entire

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[lucked]

There's been a sort of self-imposed house arrest for Claire the past few days. Even though she's been released from the clinic days ago, not wanting to stay in the sterilized, quiet environment for too long, Claire knows that for once, she can't simply push herself to her limits. It's still a struggle to breathe without any amount of pain, and even the trek over to the Compound takes a fair amount of effort these days, so for the most part, Claire stays home, deals with the cold showers, and does as much of her schoolwork as possible from the shade of her hut. As far as sticking in one place goes, Claire doesn't think the experience is too bad

[floozyfacade]

"Now that is what I like to hear," Olive says, laughter bubbling out of her as she hurries inside, nudging the door shut behind her. Once she's found a safe place to set down the goodies she's brought with her, she crouches down to pet Mr. Muggles, which only serves to remind her how eager she is to have her own dog. It won't be long now, though, before she can bring her new puppy home; she just hopes she's up to the task of training her, but goldens have such a good reputation, she thinks she'll be alright.

She straightens up, grinning, dusting her hands against her hips. Before this place, even given Rhi, she tended to spend more time alone than not, and so she's not under the impression that alone time is bad - sometimes it's what's needed - but she knows, too, that too much of it can get on a girl's nerves. "You know, I was just out and I thought, what you really need is a plethora of pastry and an afternoon of girl talk. Just you and me and all the stupid gossip your brain can handle."

[lucked]

Pleased by the attention, Mr. Muggles scampers left and right, moving from side to side just enough to help the petting along, before he makes a couple of attempts at climbing up Olive's leg. With a roll of her eyes and a soft laugh of her own, Claire shakes her head and leans down to pick up the dog. "Mr. Muggles, no. I know you're just as excited about a night of girl talk as I am, but your boythings mean that you're not invited to this particular party," she teases the Pomeranian, placing him down again and patting him lightly on the rear to help him along. "Now get

[floozyfacade]

"You cannot call him that," Olive protests, but she's giggling anyway, "to his face. Oh, my God, this is what you do, you get me hopped up on sugar so I say things I regret." In all honesty, as absolutely ridiculous a nickname as it is, she doesn't regret it in the least. It's an inside joke, a mark of something shared, and, in spite of herself, she clings to that. She has good friends, but even now there aren't many things like that, points of reference, that kind of thing, and it's really nice to have that with someone, one more thing that makes her feel she belongs.

Bringing the pastries with her, she sits on Claire's bed as she goes on. "You're lucky I love you, 'cause I do, I do bring stories. Of all kinds. I mean, there's not a lot of interest going on, but we are not entirely devoid of stories. Now do you want the island latest first or do you want me to dish about the prince of the forest?"

And you can stick that one squarely under things I'll never call him to his face.

[nefkoee3]

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