Henry walks out onto the porch after a small bout of cleaning, i.e. throwing things that are in many piles into one big pile. He slides the glass door shut quietly, seemingly worried about Claire waking up. He doesn't really feel the need to say anything, he just leans on the railing next to Liz and looks out at the lights in the town.
He smiles a little at the hand. "I'm not cold," he says simply, just like he's told her a hundred times before when she thinks he needs a coat. The chill in the air that he does notice is keeping him awake, and he's kind of appreciative of that.
"It lowers your imm--never mind." She's tired. And specifically tired of trying to take care of everyone. "You know that already."
Her cigarette has taken on a long, cylindrical ash; she taps it on the railing until it falls off and drifts off into the air like snow. After a long time: "...why is Muds such a nutjob?"
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Her cigarette has taken on a long, cylindrical ash; she taps it on the railing until it falls off and drifts off into the air like snow. After a long time: "...why is Muds such a nutjob?"
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The pills that Dorian gave her are potent, but she didn't take any tonight. She's been drinking, after all.
Instead, she's focused on one particular moment in time, and that was what helped her get to sleep.
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