xp_logs | Backlog: Clarice & Angelo

After school on Friday, Clarice goes shopping and then visits Angelo to make him feel better. Her cure-all of a facial doesn't work so well.

Bag of goodies in hand, Clarice felt...if not good, then at least on the road in that direction. It was a long road, she knew from experience. She also knew that Angelo had a tendency to internalize a lot of his emotions, so she headed to his apartment in the city to see if she could get him to work it out. Plus, they hadn't hung in a while and Genosha had made her realize how important her friends were and that she couldn't simply assume friendship based on the past. She needed to be more active in the present.

Reaching his building, she pressed the buzzer to his apartment and waited.

Evidently there was some sort of camera system in the apartment building, because after a minute or so, the main door clicked open and a voice came over the intercom.

"Come on up, Clarice."

Taking the stairs, Clarice knocked on his apartment door, "Avon calling!" she chirped, though it was more forced than normal. The bruises she sported were fading, though still present in places and she didn't wear anything to cover them up. They didn't make makeup for purple skin so she just dealt.

It swung open under her hand, to reveal Angelo sitting on the couch in front of a switched-off TV, head turned towards her. "Avon?"

"I come bearing goodies," she replied coming in and making herself at home on his couch, slipping her flipflops off. "I figured you're moping. So, I come to make you...less mopey."

"I'm not moping", he retorted, but it was more automatic than heartfelt. "Goodies?"

She opened her bag, a big reusable one that she used for shopping, "A face mask, scrub, all sorts of stuff," she'd gone a little overboard perhaps, but she liked sharing things, "So you can feel pretty."

"A makeover." That came out mostly flat but there was, perhaps, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure, Pixie, if it'll make you happy."

She blew a raspberry at him, then got up to open the blinds on the windows so there was some light. It was hard to mope in the light. "You'll feel better, really," she assured him, "And it's not makeup. I wouldn't do that to you."

"Yes, you would. While I slept."

Okay, maybe 15 year old Clarice would do that, but at a newly minted 24, she had outgrown that, "No, I'd just paint your toes," she disagreed, then eyed his feet. Ew. Feet were gross. "But I figure with all your extra skin, you should probably pamper it."

"Probably", he agreed. "Sometimes, maybe."

"And now is a good time. In fact, it's a great time," she nodded resolutely, "So, we need hot water. Go be useful." She nudged him playfully.

The corners of his mouth twitched in the closest anyone was getting to a smile right now, and he levered himself up obediently. "Hot water on its way."

While he got the water, Clarice unpacked her bag. There were quite a few jars, but it wasn't actually all that much. "Oh and towels!" she called after him. It was a good thing that New York apartments were tiny.

He didn't acknowledge that verbally, but returned in short order with hot tap water and a couple of towels from the bathroom.

"Awesome!" she beamed at him. "I even got the green face mask goop like in the movies. Because it is not a face anything without it."

"If John comes home while I'm wearing that, send me away. I don't even care where."

"I'll make him join in," Clarice assured him. Anyways, it wasn't like anyone would doubt that it was her idea. "Here, smear this all over," she handed him a jar after smearing it over her face. She wasn't about to make him do it all alone. "So how're you doing? Really. And remember, I've got an excellent bullshit detector."

His expression closed down again at that. "Pretty much how you'd expect."

She nodded, unsurprised, "Wipe all that off then," she said, wiping her own face and then applying the green mask. "You can't hole up in here and brood, Ange," she almost called him Little-Nathan, but she didn't think that would be a good idea right now.

He wiped it off with one of the towels and held out his hand for the green gunk. "I can if I want. It hasn't been so long."

"But what's it accomplish?" she asked, "I don't mean forget. And I don't mean ignore, but what's sitting in the dark accomplish?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't have to accomplish a lot. You know Moreau's people told the Elpis board I'd been arrested for terrorism?"

"And they believed that?" Clarice raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Have they MET you?"

"Didn't have to believe it. Mud sticks and if I stay, it could hurt Elpis."

"Sticks and stones," Clarice muttered, "So what're your options?" Heads were gonna roll.

He shrugged slightly. "Kick up a fuss and maybe keep my job and see a dozen countries where we're needed most blacklist Elpis. Or find another job."

Clarice thought for a moment as the mask on her face hardened a little. It smelled really good. "Can you stay with Elpis, maybe staying in the USA only or doing a different job there until you graduate law school?" She wasn't sure what year he was in, but she knew he was close to finishing.

"Maybe. I don't know." His voice was a monotone, but that hadn't really changed since she'd arrived. "I don't think the board want me associated at all anymore. Joel spoke for me, but he's just one vote."

Reaching out, Clarice poked him. "So, what? You roll over and let them walk all over you?" She rolled her eyes, "Angelo. Seriously. You're too young to be this old. So find a new job. Or focus on school for a while. You've got options and your life is not over. You just have to make an effort, which no one else can do for you," she handed him a towel as she began to scrub the mask off her face. "Join the peace corp!"

"The peace corp? Seriously?" He peered at her over the edge of his towel - but at least a disbelieving reaction was still a reaction. "I guess it does mean more time for Warren's practice when I get there."

Okay, so that had been a bullshit suggestion, but it had at least gotten a reaction, therefore, success! "Exactly," she agreed, "Just find something to put on your resume. Volunteer work or whatever. Shit happens. This is shit outside your control, but welcome to life. There's a lot of that. And I know you. You're strong and you're capable when you get off your butt to do stuff...You don't have any thing in your fridge, do you?"

"The kitchen is full of baked goods", he told her. "And I mean full. Cooking makes Amara feel better."

"Ah, good," Clarice nodded, then scooped some moisturizer out of another container before passing it to Angelo, "I don't want you to not eat."

He nodded and started dutifully rubbing the cream on his face. "Been eating, I promise. Amara cooks, John buys, there's food."

"Good," she'd worried about that for a moment. She trusted that Angelo ate though. "Do you feel better?" she asked. "I mean, your face."

"Worst thing was on the back of my head, face was just a few bruises", he said dismissively. "And the healer out there fixed it all right up."

Clarice rolled her eyes, "I meant the stuff you put on your face." It showed where his mind was though. "I know you're physically fine."

Still in Genosha, was a pretty good summation. "Oh. Yeah, that feels fine. I don't know, is it supposed to feel different already?"

"Uh, yeah. Softer," Clarice shook her head, "And clean. What am I going to do with you?"

"Clean, yes. Softer, I guess so." He just shrugged at the last question.

Boys. What could you do with them? "Promise me you will leave your apartment for at least 15 minutes every day and talk to someone face to face. Even if it's just buying fruit at the corner market?" she worried about Angelo in times like these.

"Fruit at the corner market?" He considered. "Yeah, I guess I can do that. Might even go see Mama Lupe or she'll be at the door again."

"Good!" that made Clarice happy. It was little things that made a big difference. "I will see you later then. I've got reading to do for school. It never ends!"

"You have fun with that", he said wryly, ignoring the stack of books sitting sadly neglected on the end of his couch.