xp_logs | LOG: Clarice and Terry

After Thanksgiving craziness, Clarice and Terry hang out and bitch about their parents over sme whiskey.

set before this log with Angelo

Terry flopped on her bed while Clarice blinked off to pick up the rest of her holiday travellers. After a moment, she stood again and started to unpack the backpack she’d
taken to Clarice’s father’s house. Most of it was tossed towards her hamper along with a mental note to actually do her laundry soon. In the bottom of the bag, Terry’s hand hit a hard, cold object. She tugged it out and stared down at the bottle of whiskey, half empty already.

Clarice fumbled outside their door, before blinking in. "I forgot my damn key again," she explained, tugging off her hello kitty hat and scarf. "Montana is frickin' freezing!"

Terry looked up and grinned, “Your keys are right where you left them on your nightstand. Here, this’ll warm you up.” She crossed over to Clarice and traded her whiskey for Clarice’s damp clothes. “I’ll toss these in the dryer.”

"Thanks," Clarice took a swig of the whiskey more because it was in her hand than because she wanted it, gagging as it slid down her throat. "Strong stuff. Montana is cold. And I don't think Kyle's mom likes me."

Terry shrugged, “Nobody likes us. Comes with the territory.” She ran down to the laundry room and back then snagged the whiskey out of Clarice’s hand, taking a
swig herself. She grinned, “Mother’s milk.”

"Your mother must've been a hippy," Clarice finished removing her galoshes and tossed them towards the bathroom. "Do they even have hippy's in Ireland?"

“I wouldn’t know. She died when I was just a baby.” Terry flopped back on her bed again and took another pull from the bottle. “It depends on the part of Ireland.
We’re quite modern in the cities. Running water and everything.”

Rolling her eyes, Clarice flopped on her bed and ignored her duffel bag of dirty clothes. Maybe if she wished hard enough, it would go away. "I'm sure you even have cars and telephones too, Terry. But I don't remember Ireland being caught up in the sexual revolution."

“Just because yeh didn’t hear about it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, Yank.” Terry deliberately deepened her accent until it was just about unintelligible. “If its not
in one o ye bloody cinemas, it doesn’t exist for yeh.”

"No...if it hasn't happened here, it isn't real. Movies don't know anything about anything. It's why we like them," Clarice corrected her idly, wondering why she
hadn't heard about any other countries except England being hippy-ish. "And England. There were hippies in England."

“England,” Terry sat up and offered Clarice the bottle again. “Sod England.” She stopped a rant about the north counties before it began. “Ireland is the most beautiful place in the world. You should come see Cassidy Keep someday.”

Clarice didn't take the bottle, now that she was out of her wet clothes and wrapped in a blanket, she wasn't interested in the whiskey. "Cassidy Keep?"

Terry shrugged and took another drink herself. “Ancestral home in County Mayo. Was Uncle Tom’s but he lost it to Sean. Lived there for a year or so with him. Then he dumped me here.”

"Ancestral home...like a castle?" Clarice asked, pointing to a picture Terry had posted above her bed. "With, like, banquets and stuff?"

Terry tilted her head back to look at the poster. “Yeah, that’s the keep from the south. North side is more modern but the magazines prefer the traditional look. Really it’s just the caretakers there and a few tourists who walk through the ground floor.” She smiled. She liked the keep even if she hadn’t really liked living there with Sean.

"Sweet. You saw my dad's place, that's what you get. So not anything cool like an 'ancestral home."

Terry shrugged, “It’s no big thing. Just a home. It’s big and drafty. Pretty but not useful. I like Tom’s house better.”

Clarice shook her head, convinced that if she had a family castle, she'd love it and have big parties. "You have tourists, that's cool."

"Well the estate has tourists. I just have homework.” But Terry grinned anyway. “It’s best this time of year. All snowed in and no one bothers you. Just you and the land and the stars. I wish it didn’t belong to Sean, we could go over there and I’d show you around.”

"Sean won't let us?" she didn't know Terry's dad very well, but he didn't seem unreasonable. Then again, that didn't always mean much.

“He would want to go or be afraid I was going to run off.” She lifted the whiskey again and stared at it mournfully when she realized the bottle was empty. “I did that when we lived there.”

"Maybe you should give him a chance. He came here to be with you and all you do is ignore him. Most parents don't quit their jobs for the kids." Clarice tried to defend him. After a few days with her parents and she was ready to disown them, but that was because they were usually too absorbed in their own lives for her.

Terry climbed off the bed and tossed the bottle away then dug through her sweaters until she found a new bottle. “He didn’t quit for me. He dumped me for the job. He wasn’t home when my mother died because of the job. That job was leaps and bounds more important to him than me.” She shook her head violently and opened the new bottle. “I’m not going to give him a chance to abandon me again.”

"Ookay..." Clarice didn't really know what to say. "Wanna help me with a glitter project?"

Terry blinked at the change of subject and then nodded, “Sure. What are yeh doing?” She sat down on the floor with the whiskey cradled in the crook of her arm.

"You'll see, be right back!" Clarice dashed out the door then came running back in. "Clothes." Once dressed, she left.