(1942-02-06) So Very Tired
So Very Tired
Summary: It's hard work keeping bellies full and kin afloat. Lillie meets Clyde as he works on the roof of the McComb mansion, and kindness is met with suspicion.
Date: 1942-02-06
Related: None.
Players:
clyde..lucietta..

Cooper and Butler, Higsi
Mon Feb 06, 1942

As Butler street runs the homes get larger and more spread out, signalling that the further one goes east the more affluent the neighborhood becomes. The homes here aren't surrounded by fences, but the lawns are nicely landscaped with shade trees dotting them.

Toward the end of the street is the decrepit McComb Mansion, which has set empty for decades. It is surrounded by a masonry wall, covered with English ivy and creeping fig.

Weather:
It is winter. The weather is cool and raining.


It's lunch time, which means the Walker cousin should be taking a moment to rest and eat. It's cold and the man is already soaked from the rain and sweating. But he's currently onto of the roof, patching something. It's slick up there though, and as he reaches for a nail, the box starts sliding towards the edge. A gruff, "God damn it!' follows as the man scammers after it, unsuccessfully. Unwieldy hair can be see poking out from his knitted cap as he peers over the edge of the roof nearest to the road as the nails join the rain and tumble to the ground.

<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Great Success.

Perhaps to the annoyance of Walker, unless he was too busy to really notice right off-the-bat, there is somebody watching. She stood slight and silent in what served as the entry-point to the surrounding masonry wall, the stalk of a simple black umbrella keeping the rain at bay from messing up her attire. Lillie O'Clery had been on her way home with groceries for Josie, the few necessities wrapped tightly in a paper bag and held gently in the crook of an elbow. She really meant to just keep going, but as always… she gives pause outside of this derelict old dame of a house.

And today… someone appears to be working on it. In this weather…? Lillie continues to observe, brow furrowed over big green eyes as she watches the figure on the roof. Fingers lift to press to her lips as something begins to slide…! The toolbox falls, and clatters messily onto the ground not too far off from where she stands. It is followed by a rush of emotion, of annoyance; that is all she gets at /this/ distance for now. But that which she /does/ feel blows over her like some sort of mental chinook, causing the young Irish lass to nearly drop her bag. But first, instead of gawking … she watches Clyde again as he peers over the edge. She calls out to him in a concerned, singsong lilt.

"Hold on, I'll collect these for you! Be careful on that roof!" Lillie insists; she is sure to sense more the moment she stes forth onto the property.

Clyde frown settles on his face naturally. The Alpha feels eyes on him before Lillie calls out. "No. Don't." he gives the command like he's used to people following them. With a grumble he stands and makes his way over to the ladder, which is propped up on the against the side of the building. Not the safest, but he's working with what he's got. And lord knows he doesn't need to lose this job cause some skirt complains after getting her shoes muddy when trying to help him in a moment of lapsed judgment. He hurries down the ladder, only slipping on a rung once. He's fast. Once on ground he's at the side of the building where the tools all fell, eyeing the approaching woman. He doesn't recognize her, but that doesn't really mean anything. He's wary.

Not too worried about her groceries, as they are in containers that won't get spoiled by the damp, Lillie sets the parcel down beside the wall and kneels carefully, the umbrella bobbing and twitching as she goes about collecting nails after they have finished clattering to the earth like little metal raindrops. Holding the wayward pieces like an offering in cupped palms (umbrella set aside and forgotten), Lillie approaches. She can also discern one thing, even by body language: this guy is not keen on being out there. But this must be very important if he is to be working in this weather.

Without being bid to, Lillie traipses into the yard — and therefore, closer to Clyde as he descends at an alarming pace, slipping once. What this means is that the 'transmissions' get stronger, and that flash of annoyance that prickled Lillie's skin and needled at her temples is joined by something.. sadder. Suddenly she feels as if she has finished a gauntlet of split-shifts, and even that doesn't touch the exhaustion that infuses her soul briefly. How did this man move so quickly despite the weariness that she feels coming off of him in waves?

Lillie chances to look the man in the eye briefly as she stops a couple of feet away from him, wearing.. of all things … gumboots. A total clash to her pretty coat. She holds the nails out, brow furrowed. She is wary too, but for another reason… there is further unease; the one feels when faced with a livewire. Something feels dangerous here, and it's most disturbing because it's not outright.. it thrums beneath like a pulse. A constant.

"T—these.. I got them all. Are you okay?" Lillie asks outright, waiting.

Annoyance now , directed at the girl. Does no one listen, damn it? His eyes are dark, not black but they appear that way. There's so much pride in him it rolls off as he approaches, "I said I'd get them!" The man snatches the offer nails, not wanting to make too much contact with the pretty girl in the odd shoes. His fingers are freezing though, the brief moment they touch hers. "You didn't gotta do that." He doesn't look down at the nails, instead he just shoves them into the pocket of his work jacket. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" Why is she worried? Even as he says this a shiver goes though him as the wind gives a good push, reminding him he's soaked.

The cocktail of emotions continues to simmer, and she's doing everything that she can not to 'reflect' them as she is apt to do when she tunes into something as strong as this. As in, her color heightens and Lillie /too/ would reveal the signs of an annoyance not her own. It was that sense of deep danger, and the ability to act on such, that causes her to hold tight to the reigns. But the tiredness is powerful still, and the lively glow that often infuses her eyes has dulled a bit, her lids heavy as if the thick fringes of lashes are weighing them down. That is all she has to show for the 'emotional' meeting with Clyde Walker, and it's taking so very much to keep it under control. Green eyes flit down at the nails in her cupped palms, glistening with rainwater. Abruptly they are swatted out of her hands as Clyde collects them, and the annoyance is felt like a lash.. she almost flinches. Lillie looks up abruptly, perhaps breaking an Alpha's rule by looking Clyde dead in the face as he responds to her well-meaning question. Those eyes, though! Erf!

While Lillie, the owner of a nice little bit of fire in her belly despite her sweetness, would normally snap at someone for their rudeness.. it was her sense that clued her into Clyde's predicament. She feels badly for him and remains patient. "You just about fell from the ladder. I felt that your fingers are frozen right through.. you won't be able to feel the bleedin' rungs before long and what if you /really/ fall? I'd hazard to say that you're exhausted!" Lillie exclaims despite the trepidation felt from the annoyance; the sense of danger. "I know that work is hard to come by around here.. but you look worn right out."

Clyde's nose wrinkles, she's right about the cold, but he doesn't admit that. "I didn't always fall." So there. "You'd hazard…" Hazard is right. She may be right about the exhausted too, but that doesn't help him. "I don't got time to be worn out. That don't put food in my kin's bellies." Speaking of, maybe he should stop and eat lunch, what he brought at least. And maybe sit out of the rain for a bit. He stands there, unsure what this little bird could want, "Yer getting wet." So many emotions with that simple statement. He's an alpha, instinctively he orders people to do things he things will be best for them, so, "Go home." It's cold, she's wet, and he knows he can be a danger.

Why is she doing this? Smarter — but sadly, perhaps meaner — women would have charged along to get to where they were wanting to go. Surfacing now from the cocktail is a sense of determined sureness, of not wanting to be told what she can or cannot to. It's almost as if she /too/ wants to holler out: 'don't you be telling me what to do, I'll damn well go to the store in the rain to get an old lady her milk and eggs if I damn well please!' …. nothing at /all/ like Clyde's situation, but the sense of pride is powerful and the Irish woman just wants to press the heels of her palms into her temples to make it stop. She ferrets through all that is swirling in her head, clinging desperately to that which is /Lillie/.

She must handle this fellow carefully, now; not bring forth that always-ready lash of annoyance, not insult his pride. The tight look of unease falters in her face, and Lillie takes a slow breath. "Little rain doesn't bother me. Worse things afoot than getting soaked, and I won't hold you up long. I'm.. sorry if I offended you. I've no kin here but I can well imagine how…" Blink. There's a roughness about him that speaks of places beyond the town proper. The hills. Lillie's brow furrows again, as she feels a genuine pang of her /own/ realization, but another breath soothes it.

"I have something. Hold on." She suddenly insists, and despite her dress she jogs with big squishy clops from her ugly boots over to her parcel. She kneels, then, rifling through it quickly in case Clyde tries to escape her.

Now he's just confused. She has something? Clyde stilled while she went through whatever riffling of emotions she had, sensing she was figuring something out. he hoped it was she was getting wet and should go home. Alas that does not seem to be the case. The man lets out a sigh as she goes to poke in her bags, tired starting to push away the annoyance. His stomach growls and he doesn't make any excuses for it. It's lunch time. Hew will offer, not quite conversational, "Guess it could be snow." He just folds his arms, eyeing her.

Finding that which she seeks, Lillie pulls the small paper box out of the bag and folds it over hastily. She leaves it again, returning and holding out the box. It's somewhat warm to the touch. "This will be ruined on the rest of my walk home, so take it so it doesn't go t'waste." Lillie says gently, feeling only the tiredness now and hoping deeply that Clyde will concede. "It's for t'best that I don't eat it anyway. I work around it enough." She admits, lips curling into a shy smile. Whatever is in the paper box with the taped lid sure /smells/ nice… it's Lillie's one impulse buy with wayward tip money.

"A slice of pie… apple." She nods toward it, holding it out to Clyde. "Sugar t'keep you going. Made this morning.. please take it so it doesn't get ruined, either the pie or m'figure should I eat it."

Waiting to see how the exhausted Alpha responds, Lillie glances over her shoulder. "I'll be out of your hair soon, just take it and get something on your stomach."

Clyde's nostrils flair at the scent. He recognizes it immediately and his stomach protests that it's not already filled with pie. Clyde doesn't move just yet, his head tilts and he eyes her confused. He finally simply asks, "Why?" Why would this person that doesn't know him be nice to him, a Walker? He assumes everyone knows the Walkers, even if it's just by reputation. Bernice gossips a lot. His left hand twitches, like he's stopping himself from reaching for it.

That sense of danger remains a constant…. Lillie has been wrangling with that feeling for more than just one reason. That restrained feeling as if one could fly-off-the-handle but somehow, it's kept at bay. Like it's well-practiced that this be kept under control. This 'sense' undermines everything, even the annoyance, he pride, the bone-deep tiredness. What alarms Lillie most is that it's… /barely/ familiar. She has felt this before, but where?

"Because I care. M'father did much of what you're doing now, to keep us fed.. when I was a lil' one. Worked himself half to death. Your kin won't want you half dead and half starved. I'm only four months gone in this town and I don't.. quite know who you are. May I at least have your name?"

Lillie steps closer, holds out the pie a bit more insistently. Clearly, she's been mostly out of the loop of the town's active gossip mill.

Clyde's nose sniffs again. Damn it, his stomach is winning out. Those dark eyes stay on the extended pie, and the man's jaw works itself as he internal debates with himself. No one would accuse him of steal pie….right? Finally, "I ain't half dead or starved." The pie just smells way better than the chuck of bread he brought. It smells good enough he takes it, not quite as roughly as he did the nails, but there's little desire to actually touch the woman. Too much risk there. "Walker. Clyde." Even as he's introducing himself he's opening up the container and finger eating the pie. He doesn't have a fork with him, and it'll get cold before he can find one. His eyes slide shut, a moment of vulnerability as he visibly relaxes as the sugar and homemade goodness hits his tongue. It's been a long time. He doesn't splurge often.

By now her pretty fingerwave has sloughed into a half-helmet alongside both sides of her face, her thick braid a soaked thing hanging like a vine. But Lillie obviously doesn't give a damn because he just took the pie! She regrets not having a fork, but that doesn't seem to be a problem because Clyde tucks in. Her doe eyes watch his face carefully as his eyes close in brief enjoyment of the dessert, that tiniest bit of respite. She knows it won't last long, so she is silent in allowing him the enjoyment of that which he doesn't get often. So intent had she been on getting the guy to take the fricken' pie that the name hits.

Right. Between. The eyes.

Inhaling deeply, Lillie is suddenly /profoundly/ relieved that she did not accost Clyde with both worry and indignation at his tone. She has heard this name before… first and last. "You're a Walker." She says softly.. but it's not out of disgust. It's open, harmless surprise.. her heart begins to beat quickly. "I've.. encountered some of your kin before. One of whom I have befriended, whom I think highly of." She admits softly, still surprised. "My name's Lillie." She near whispers.

Even said nicely, Clyde stops chewing at the statement. Those dark eyes open and focus on Lillie. Then the narrow suspiciously. She's not acting like a friend of one of his cousins, she's acting weird. "And who's that?" He has an idea, after the argument he had with one the other day. Her name doesn't seem to mean anything to him, but the fact she's gone so quiet and heart fluttering has him closing up the half eaten box. He sniffs again, not that he's gonna pick up anything in the rain.

She was enjoying Clyde's enjoyment of the fare, so when he stops chewing and looks at her Lillie is jolted out of her thoughts. His dark eyes sure know how to get right to the matter, and she finds herself momentarily worried when they /narrow/. She tilts her head at the query, and answers openly and honestly. "Jesse." Comes the name, and her own head tilts in question. Wait, why is he not eating anymore? Why is he /sniffing/? Lillie looks at Clyde thoughtfully, but suddenly feels wary herself. What if it had been /this/ Walker who ended up finding her in the snare? There is a resulting jolt of terror that is barely restrained, and Lillie absently reaches for an umbrella that isn't there. It's over by the parcel still.

She must not.. /must/ not admit to her folly from a few days ago. Of her ill-fated trek.

"Is everything okay? Is the pie cold?" Lillie asks worriedly, somehow feeling that the pie being cold and mushy isn't the main concern here.

No, the pie was damn fine. Which makes it feel more like a set up. But a set up by who? Jesse and him are gonna have a discussion. "Pie's mighty fine." Clyde's tense now. "Yer getting soaked."

It's a tension that Lillie can both see and feel, and she cannot hope to surmise what suspicions are going through Clyde's mind. Were she to know of who the unfortunate recipient will be for a 'discussion' on these concerns… well… it's a mercy that she doesn't. But Lillie doesn't quite feel right now, and she feels that to backpedal or explain further will not bode well. Green eyes meet Clyde's darker ones for a moment, unless he is looking or looks elsewhere… but her expression is that of questioning as the rainwater forms rivulets down her cheeks. "Are you… you're put off by something, aren't you?" Lillie chances to ask, may as well go in for damage. "Do you not… approve of my association with him?" She asks softly, brow knit together.

Does he seem a little bigger? A deep breath and the man seems taller, broader, but surely that's her imagination, "I don't give a damn what or who he does when he's out in town. Just stay off our land." Again, there's a mixture of emotions, annoyance, frustration, the need to protect not only his kin, but this stupid skirt in front of him…. That wave of exhaustion is back, the pie is good, but he's got work to do, and it's only going to get colder.

She could let the guard down.. feel and sense the anger and allow it to empower her in turn. But just /think/ of how dangerous that would be, how irreparable it could be… Lillie knows deep down that trust is a rare commodity for this family, when it comes to outsiders. Thanks to the well-meaning advice from Jesse — 'stay out of the Hills' included — she knows, too, what the Walkers face. It's in her, goaded by the threat in front of her, to call that out right in his face… but no. Nooo no. Lillie is no idiot. And he's just so, so tired.

Lillie's eyes soften and she ducks her head once in a nod once, twice; first for herself, second to Clyde. "Of course I will." She says softly, brow still knit together in tension and worry… and finally, a step back. A few.

"B—be careful on that ladder. I'm leaving before I catch my death." The Irish lass says quickly, catching up the soggy bag of groceries and backing out of the property. She will have much explaining to do, to Josie, as to how a fifteen-minute errand stretched into an hour.

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