poly_chromatic | ☤ eighty-eight

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house m.d. - allison cameron

☤ eighty-eight

[VOICE]

I do remember, I always used to wonder what it would be like to leave and come back... Whether I'd know where I was, or whether it would seem vaguely familiar but foreign. I know I didn't remember any of this at home... [which is probably for the best. She pauses a long moment before continuing.] It's a little fuzzy, but I know where I am, so it could be worse.

Or maybe I'm only imagining I've left. It wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen, here. That much I'm sure of.

I guess I'll see at midnight. That's still how it works, isn't it?

[ooc; Age Reversal, or rather... fast forwarding. Replies from her blonde account,

popsong_wisdom-- just pretend she's, uh, heavily pregnant. Open to action around the City, she's just sight-seeing. Hit me ooc if you've questions or want anything special <3]

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[Well. He's been hovering over this for a while before deciding to respond.]

If you want to wait that long. Otherwise, we could figure it out from the last thing you remember.

[Oh. You're still here, hmn? She was wondering.]

Unfortunately, that's where it gets the haziest.

How about the last thing at home?

Either way, I think it's better if I don't answer that.

[Really?]

Really? Either the memory matches up with the one you had yesterday or- [And then a pause. A long one. Or it doesn't. And she's worried about spoiling him on the future.]

Better safe than sorry, don't you think?

[She thinks so, even if she's not quite sure how much he knows. As far as she knows, he can't know about this. She hasn't told him. She's not sure she will.]

[He thinks being more sorry would be a feat.]

I'm not sure. It might be telling enough if you remember when I'm from.

[It's happened once. If she's managed to skip past him he can't imagine a further point than the one she was from then.]

I remember you were always a little vague on the details. [There's something like nostalgia in her tone; it curdles, goes bittersweet, as she continues.] I can make an educated guess.

[There is, he thinks, one thing that will tell him for sure.]

Do you want to see me?

[You might be surprised, Robert.]

I'm not sure I should.

It's been a year. [Now he's making assumptions. Mildly sarcastic ones.] I can hold it together, I reckon.

[He's actually out already, sitting by the window in a coffee shop on the edge of the square.]

If you do make it past midnight, it might get harder to avoid.

[Unlikely - he knows what weekend it is - but he'll play the point anyway.]

If I make it past midnight, I'll deal with it in the morning.

[She's in no shape to fret right now about what might happen; she's very carefully not thinking about the implications of an extended stay, in her condition, much less the awkward questions.]

For both our sakes. It's harder than you might imagine, knowing things you shouldn't. [Yet. Or never. In this case, she's speaking from experience. She remembers his wedding ring, in the back of her drawer. And she remembers never, ever talking about it. How both the question and the answer wore them down.]

For both our sakes.

[It's impossible for that not to sound just a touch too sharp. She left. It's hard for him to imagine what else there could be to know.]

If we're on the same page, then I think you can credit me with not having to imagine what that's like. [She's right, lets not go into it. Check that she'll get by and sign off, Robert.] Are you going to be able to get into your apartment?