One more log before bed..

[x-shinobi.livejournal.com]

Set after this exchange. Late Monday night, Shinobi and Clarice bond over bastard-y fathers. They're even civil the whole time.


Clarice headed down to the music room, clutching her punk rock Hello Kitty stuffed animal. As promised, she had left the glitter and Bowie in her room and was wearing black workout pants with a gray Muppets t-shirt. Her one piece of craziness was her Animal toe socks. Shinobi was playing the piano when she came in, so she sat down on a chair to let him finish.

It didn't take long for the strong, somber notes to come to a close. In truth, Shinobi hadn't even waited for a response to his invitation before making his way down to his not-so-private refuge, clad in charcoal colored slacks and a matching silk dress shirt, collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Letting his hands fall to his lap, he shook himself from his distraction and managed a slight grin, inclining his head towards Clarice. "Hi."

"Hey," she replied, braiding her hair back. "That was sad. Pretty, but sad."

"Fits my mood," Shinobi chuckled quietly, rubbing and loosely folding his arms across his stomach. "Feeling alright?"

"Yeah. A bit. I'm sorry about the Piotr thing earlier. I just wanted everyone to apologize; I didn't mean to start a whole fight. If I had known it would, I would have never posted."

'Hindsight's twenty-twenty, Clarice," he grinned, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'm sorry, too. Never had friends before, so I want to be there for what few I have, you know?"

Clarice smiled gratefully, "I know the feeling. I haven't had too many friends either, the few I've had are probably in jail or something now. They weren't real friends, not like some of the people here."

"Ah, the Bad Crowd," Shinobi mused, wiggling his eyebrows. A momment's thought, and he shifted in place to sit crosslegged on the piano bench, turning so that he could face Clarice for ease of conversation.

"The Good Kids didn't want anything to do with a mutie freak," she replied matter-of-factly. For once this didn't seem to make her upset, "but I made good grades, didn't do anything too terrible and promised my mom I wouldn't get my belly-button pierced." She smiled, "I said nothing about the glitter."

At the piercing comment, Shinobi waggled his eyebrows again, to call attention to the ring pierced through the left one. "At least belly button rings can be hidden beneath shirts.. certainly beneath clothes befitting a lady of your social class." He smiled then, clearly just teasing.

Clarice made a very un-ladylike snort. "He never gave a rat's ass about how I dressed or anything so long as I had proper table manners and didn't cuss in front of him until he married Lois. Then suddenly, I wasn't good enough. Her daughters are models you know."

"I was just an investment," Shinobi shrugged, smiling ruefully as he ran a hand back through his hair, thoroughly mussing it up. And, in the process, revealing the glossy black roots. Someone's about due to freshen up their dye. "He claimed he loved me, but the emotion wasn't there. Just words on a contract to him."

"That sucks. I don't know what is worse really, to have loved and lost or to have never been loved at all. I forgot who said that…" Clarice misquoted, playing with her plushy.

"Alfred Lord Tennyson," Shinobi absently placed the quote, though he paused a moment, his brow furrowing. "Or Fleetwood Mac. Eh." He waved dismissively before looking to Clarice again, grinning wryly. "Never at all. Definitely never at all."

"Ah," she shrugged, "jury's still out on that. Either way, it can suck. It really fucking sucks," her voice broke and she tried to wipe the tears away, but couldn't. "And I fucking hate crying."

Oh no. Not more distraught, crying people. Shinobi did a passable job at hiding just how awkward he suddenly felt, shoulders tensing as he regarded Clarice almost warily. "Most people do," he managed after a moment, getting to his feet so that he could check his pockets for a hankerchief.

"Sorry," she sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the handkerchief, "I guess I lied about being okay. I don't care about the trip, I know I wouldn't have fun anyways. I just wish my dad wasn't such a jackass."

"Nothing to apologize for," Shinobi sighed, fishing the hankerchef out of his pocket before he stepped within arm's reach of Clarice so that he could offer it. "Here."

She took the proffered handkerchief and wiped her face, trying to calm down. "Thanks. So why does your dad have horrible mutton chops?"

"Because he's insane," Shinobi replied seriously, grinning a little as he dropped into a comfortable crouch where he stood, draping his arms over his knees.

"I wonder if we could call Queer Eye on him?" she mused, laughing at Shinobi's shocked expression, "What? They'd wax them off!"

"It would never air," Shinobi mused once he regained his conversational bearings. "He'd make the series disappear. That in and of itself does tempt me a little, though.."

"I like Queer Eye!" Clarice protested, "More men should learn about the tortures women go through to look beautiful! Besides, the fashion guy has great taste!" this wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"It's a bit too painful for me to watch, but I'll leave it all alone and unmolested, just for you." Shinobi grinned.

"I appreciate it. Where else do you think I get my fashion advice?" Clarice grinned wickedly, knowing that no one in the school appreciated her style.

"I suppose gay fellows do tend to flock to Hot Topic," Shinobi replied innocently, batting his eyelashes at her as he straightened back up, knees complaining about the crouch he'd been in.

"And like to mix their colours and patterns," she agreed solemnly. "We cool?"

"We're cool," Shinobi confirmed, offering Clarice a hand and a reassuring grin. "It's getting late, and I don't know about you, but I need my beauty sleep. Tomorrow's going to be mad."

"That's because this place is a nuthouse run by its inmates," Clarice explained, taking Shinobi's hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Bobbing his head in agreement, Shinobi helped Clarice up to her feet. Or, well, as much help as one can give a fully capable girl getting out of a chair. Gentlemen. Such silly beasts. "Definitely, on both counts. Hope you have pleasant dreams. Don't let things get you too down, 'ey?"

Clarice smiled and nodded, no longer clutching her doll but holding it in one hand. "Night! Thanks!"