dreadful sorry, clementine

[cibosity]

In more ways than one, Tabula Rasa was a surefire step up from the previous island. A simple look at the way that Sawyer occupied himself on most days was more than enough of an indication; whereas before, he'd spent his days lounging around, scavenging for materials and possessions, often causing factions of the camp to turn against one another,

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[little_moons]

After five fuckin' years on this rock, you kind of get this feeling when there's something about the day that's just... off. There was nothing unusual about our morning. The girls got up, crack of fuckin' dawn, begged to go up to the compound for breakfast, squirmed and danced and acted like tiny lunatics all through getting dressed, through getting their hair braided, chattering in their strollers the long, long walk there. Nothing unusual, but the island itself had this weird vibe that neither Tom or I mentioned, but both seemed to acknowledge.

Now, he and the girls are in the kitchen getting breakfast, and I've wandered into the rec room to look at the bookcase, a cup of coffee in my own hand. Glancing up just in time to see him kick the jukebox and slosh hot coffee all over him self, I quirk a faint smirk and mutter,

"You might wanna work on those anger management issues, sweetheart."

[cibosity]

Nothing's wrong. Nothing's out of place. It's just the damned jukebox making fun of me, ain't nothing more than that. The fact that Neil McCormick strides into the room, smirkin' almost like he's the one who pulled off the whole stunt, that's nothing. He often comes down here early in the morning with those two kids of his, because kids will always be difficult, they'll never sleep according to any sort of schedule once they're old enough to talk. So I just give him a look, one that lets him know that I ain't none too happy right now with this series of events, before I try to do something about the coffee that's sloshed over my hand. Wipe it on the seat of my pants. Laundry's free anyway.

"Well, maybe the anger's the only thing that keeps people at arm's length when they need to be," I bite out.

And now I know it's not just my damn imagination. This island has it out for me. Because those words damn well weren't meant for Neil's ears.

"Shit," I breathe in confusion.

[little_moons]

Well, there's no way in hell I can leave something like that alone.

Arching a brow, I wander toward him, taking a lazy sip of my coffee and lifting my shoulders in a careless shrug. "Too bad for you, I don't get scared off like that."

I spent too much of my life poking at people, prodding, making them angry on purpose, just to see where their breaking point might be. Just to get attention from 'em at all. Just 'cause I was bored.

[cibosity]

The fact that Neil keeps on lingering around me doesn't help matters. I don't do well with people crowdin' me, not on the best of days, and sure as hell not when it's someone who's actually somewhat of a good reader of people like Neil is. If my cursin' him out didn't get him to take even a single step back the first time we met, it sure as hell won't work anymore, after the friggin' kiss under the mistletoe, after his husband's death. Right now, though, the only thing on my mind's the fact that he's still there, he's lingering 'round like this is some kind of spectacle for him to watch.

I can feel my frown deepening. And here I thought I was done with all that.

"Shouldn't come to that conclusion so quick," I warn him, and it feels wrong, the way that I do. I should be joking and shrugging this off. It ain't working. Instead, it's the stuff at the back of my mind that surfaces. "There's a lot of stuff I've done that'd scare you off, I'm willin' to bet."

[poison_lipstick]

"All that's liable to get you is a broken toe, honey," Saffron informed Sawyer with a mild smile as she came up and nimbly plucked the coffee mug from his hand before he decided to go hopping around in pain and spill more of it. "That jukebox has been the bane of many a person's existence on this island. Seems to be more the bookshelf for me, for whatever reason. Either way it's the gorram island having its way with us, one way or another."

And as if on cue, like the jukebox was reminding her that it, too, could have its fun with her if it wanted, a familiar song started playing. Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand, I don't care, I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me...

Saffron rolled her eyes.

[cibosity]

"Well, maybe it was supposed t'make me feel better, not just takin' all the crap that this island pulls on us," Sawyer immediately shot back, though none of the irritation was directed at Helen herself, who was being that shade of maternal that she always seemed to be around him. Whether that was because she was a whole lot more poised than he'd ever be, or because he behaved like a child and needed to be watched over in some way, Sawyer wasn't sure. Impossibly, his mind shot back to patchier memories, blurred in his mind, of Kate holding him close and feeding him mangoes while he laid in bed.

He shook his head furiously to rid himself of the thought. It wasn't the time.

Wiping his hand on his shirt, Sawyer shot a curious glance over to the jukebox, which had started playing a new song entirely. "That number's for you, I'd wager," he remarked.

[poison_lipstick]

"It is," Saffron confirmed, barely sparing the machine a glance. She'd had enough time with the knowledge of that gorram show that things like that didn't much get to her anymore. "I reckon it has to try and put me in my place once in a while."

She paused, just briefly, wondering before she even asked the question if he would bother giving her an answer. "So what's the story with that other song's got you so worked up you want to kick the jukebox? From what I heard it was just some song about a girl named Clementine." Some woman named Clementine had left him at some point, maybe? She wasn't sure.

[cibosity]

There was a moment when Sawyer looked over in Saffron's direction, his expression nothing but defensive. Perhaps it was a normal question for someone to ask, for anyone who wanted to get to know him better or cared about his welfare to ask. But there was something about being asked by her in specific, the woman who had lived a similar kind of life, that made him want to snap, pushed as close to the edge as he already was by the song alone.

Of course, though, he didn't have to answer. Didn't have to give her the truth.

"Maybe I don't wanna tell that story," Sawyer replied, and while it wasn't too normal for him to take on that overall air of petulance, perhaps it fit the moment. "I had a girl named Clementine." He paused, his hand about to rub at his lips, before he looked up at her with his eyes wide.

"That ain't somethin' I meant to tell you."

[missingthekeep]

Maybe it's harsh, but the first thing Sean thinks when he glances over at the commotion is just to thank God it's not him. He doubts he'd have been nearly so easygoing about it, for one thing, not after the night he's just had, not with his head pounding, when being out and about is pretty much the last thing he wants to be doing. He's only stopping in to grab a book to pretend to read while he waits for his hangover to subside, and because being at home means having to think about how badly he screwed up only a few hours earlier.

"Ye a'right there?" he asks, an automatic reaction, although on any other day, it really would have come from a place of genuine concern.

[cibosity]

Even though they don't precisely set aside playdates to better acquaint themselves with one another, in Sean Cassidy, Sawyer's always found a sort of kindred spirit. Superficially, of course, both of them sort of fit a type. Brash, rugged, both with heavy accents that wave their hometowns in the air for all to see. But it goes deeper than that, Sawyer thinks, and runs instead in the way that both of them react to what goes on around them. Neither seems to be the type that naturally builds up walls, though they may have learned a trick or two over the years to help that along, and that's because at the core, they're both made of emotion. Their nerves are raw, and so they react strongly to their surroundings, lashing out whenever someone comes across that part that forever remains unguarded

[missingthekeep]

"Gee, thanks," Sean replies without missing a beat, giving the bookshelf a quick once-over (one that's mostly just for show since he doesn't actually want anything) before he meanders uneasily over to where Sawyer's grabbed a seat. "Long as that thing doesnae start in wi' O Danny Boy again, I'd say I'm doin' a fair bit better'n yerself, though. Takes a hell of an annoyance ta risk a broken toe o'er, so c'mon, how is it?"

[cibosity]

"I'll survive," Sawyer bites out first, feeling defensive when the other man pries. Sean has every reason to, of course, it's a free world and making such a spectacle generally does result in raised eyebrows and nosy questions. But Sawyer's none the happier for it, dragging his palm down his face and trying to calm the hell down before he starts giving even more away that he doesn't want out of the bag. Taking a deep breath, he reminds himself, repeatedly in his mind, that none of this is Sean's fault.

And unless he wants the entirety of the island to think that he's got an anger management problem, he needs to tone it all the hell down.

"It's fine," he says, nodding to the side. "I'd do it all again if it'd just shut the damn thing up. No man wants to hear a friggin' jukebox play their kid's name over and ov- the hell?" He blinks, pressing his hand to his lips in hopes of silencing himself.

[blondieburke]

Juliet is in a decidedly good mood which is a change, but a good one. Her shift starts in the clinic in about an hour but she figured she'd show up early and grab something to eat. She's already wearing her lab coat from home that says 'Juliet Carlson' on the pocket with the ends of a stethoscope hanging out of one of the pockets. She probably won't need it - hell, she really doesn't need to wear the coat at all, it's just habit - but she likes the familiarity

[cibosity]

"With the way things run 'round this place, we might as well be in a friggin' movie," Sawyer grits out, shaking his hand in an effort to rid himself of the coffee, drops falling on and seeping into the carpet. "The sorta stunts this island pulls sure make it seem like we're just puppets pulled 'round for someone else's entertainment." With the pain still surging through his foot, Sawyer can't even bring himself to give half a damn about the fact that he's probably whining Juliet's ear off. The way he figures, she's been patient enough with him in the short time they've known one another that legitimately hating on the jukebox probably won't be held against him. Much

[blondieburke]

"Well that's a theory I heard in passing once. That we really are here for the entertainment of something bigger than us. You trying to destroy a jukebox that's indestructible is a good pitch though," she says with a very gentle smile - one that turns up the corners of her eyes more than the corners of her lips.

Ducking down, she starts helping to clean up the coffee. "So, what'd the jukebox do to piss you off, anyway?"

She wonders if it makes her a horrible person for asking like that, when she already knows.

[cibosity]

He doesn't see the humor in the situation, but for Juliet's sake, Sawyer tries his best to stamp down his anger and aggravation. It isn't her fault, after all, that the jukebox decided to play just about the worst choice it could have picked. Instead, the glare that holds in Sawyer's eyes is directed straight at the blasted machine, lips pressing together, thin and tense.

Until she asks that question.

The song's still playing in the background, apparently on loop, and slowly, Sawyer turns his gaze to meet hers. Already, he feels the words pushing at his tongue, temptation raising step by step. Memories of Cassidy, Australia, the jail.

"You're tellin' me Ben Linus ain't ever gave you my file to peruse?" he asks instead.

[hightail]

For Kate, the impulse to run -- while not ever-present -- never really went away. It was always there in one way or another, the nagging thought at the back of her mind, the itch building just under her skin. Far and away though it was, the island of Tabula Rasa presented her with a myriad of different reminders, each dredging up long buried memories of the many lives left in her wake. In her worst moments, she had trouble pinpointing a single poor soul who had been better off having known her (One of the few advantages of a life on the run was that Kate's thoughts rarely ever caught up with her, until now

[cibosity]

Between Kate and Sawyer, steps were only made when there was an imbalance. Almost as though they didn't know how to properly walk, step by step. There was always staggering, slipping, and Sawyer knows that the best of it happens whenever one of them is standing barely out of reach. Whether it's a misstep, or whether it's because that's when they can actually run, chase, progress, Sawyer isn't sure. All he knows is that he hates being on this end more than almost anything else, peering over to see those familiar chestnut curls and eyes staring right in his direction.

It does, however, do a fairly good job of shutting him right up. Sawyer shakes his head as he peers back down at his arm, at the way it's still wet with coffee, skin flushed. He shakes the coffee off, rubbing it on the leg of his jeans.

"Hey, Freckles," he breathes, hoping she won't ask. Won't push. He's not sure how well he'd be able to deal with that right now.

[hightail]

Bitter and fragile, the silence stretches between them even as the sound from the jukebox repeatedly attempts to penetrate. It drowns away into the background when she meets his gaze, just briefly, than pulls her back in once she has looked away. At once, the room is both too quiet and too loud; Kate isn't sure which extreme is preferable. (Neither, naturally, but that doesn't seem to be a choice.) She considers waiting for the song to end but decides against it, realizing it would draw even more attention to the elephant in the room, which neither of them need, but least of all Sawyer.

She clears her throat while her eyes find the frayed corner of a cushioned chair and stay there, barely focused. "You gonna get another coffee? I could use one myself." It's as obvious as day, her attempt to move this conversation far and away, but she's now done him the favor of ignoring what's right in front of her; he can surely extend her the same.

[cibosity]

If it was anyone else, Sawyer would expect prying. Most people don't know him so well in the ways that matter. Kate, on the other hand, she knows him in ways that can not be covered in a mere file, or from knowing all of the technical details of his life. Others would see in him a con man; Kate never seems bothered by that at all. If there's any reason why Kate hesitates now, Sawyer suspects it's because she knows that his daughter is a touchier subject even than all that Sawyer has actively done in his past.

He holds gazes with her for a few seconds, then shakes his head, willing himself to throw it all aside in the way that she had.

"Guess I do need my caffeine," he admits, though his voice is a little tighter than it should be, not quite letting it all go. "You'd think bein' marooned on an island would help ya cut back on the coffee."