consequence | inbox ] [ eudio

[ she is the same to him. the same, and different: unscarred by her suffering and yet still haunted by what's to come. he doesn't give thought to how his experiences might have shaped him in her eyes. no, he merely lifts his brow in a totally transparent attempt at subterfuge. ] I live close. [ forever unashamed of his stalker ways. ]

[For as much as she fights against it, she knows how similar they are. Their quest for family, for a loyalty that never seems to be enough. The thought that they would sooner destroy something than allow it to hurt them anymore. She knows that expression, too. The one that says he's not going to let her in any more than he needs to. She's worn it most of her life. The cool unaffected gaze that comes with a slight lift of nonchalance.

She's glad he'll be close. She just won't admit that to him.]

How big is she? [Her features fall, just a bit, heavy with missing her daughter and wishing she could see her without worrying about ruining everything she's been working for here.]

[ certainly she must suspect he would have tabs on her -- if not that he wouldn't care. and he does, quite beside himself: he cares for her despite the walls and blitheness, perhaps more and deeper than he would like to admit, even to himself.

he enters the apartment without any further invitation, slipping past her to take in the space now that he's in it and not being a peeping tom. his own features fall at the question, and he stills, thinking of their daughter, how she's grown, and how he's left her again. they've both left her.

he turns towards hayley; looking at her only reminds him only they share this: this inexplicable, binding love. that they share much more than that. ] She's walking. [ and he thinks of how hayley wasn't there to see it even at home. perhaps it's a kindness to let her imagine she will. ]

[At the thought of Hope being big enough to walk, her hand goes up to her mouth. Covering the gasp in surprise. She doesn't hide the sting of tears that threaten to spill.]

Walking? [She shakes her head, trying not to think of all the things she's missing out on being here.] I can't -- she must be getting into everything.

[ the bittersweet tears in her eyes cut him, make him ache with both guilt and that same longing. he looks away at the sight of them, though it does not help. and so follows the desire and impulse to comfort, somehow, anyhow; he tempers the eagerness. ] She's become quite the troublemaker. [ he says it with an almost smile of his own, his eyes sightless and on the floor. he's seeing hope, her trusting eyes and infectious laugh.

a pause, and the lump in his throat rises - ] Do you have it? [ his eyes find hers again. a veil has lifted for the moment; he misses his daughter, needs her just as hayley does. ] The picture? [ the one he gave her, of hope and them, before he left. ]

[Her fingers lightly sweep away any stray tears that might have fallen. Glancing to him as she nods.] Yeah, of course.

[She moves to the kitchen, allowing him to follow if he wants to, and she pulls the photo off of the fridge.]

I had it... [She offers it to him.] I had it in a frame, but then I kept taking it out of the frame to look at. [She lets out a breath that's an attempt at a laugh, even if it's mostly just a sound.] I thought it'd be nice to have it in a frame, like a normal parent, but it ended up on the fridge instead.

[ he follows and takes it, looks at the faces of them all: of rebekah and elijah, of hayley and hope. of him and them, all together, as a family. his thumb caresses the white of the polaroid.

it would be nice, wouldn't it? to have pictures in their frames, to have a safe, loving space for a safe and loving family. he knows the pain she speaks of; he had barely ever put this away when he had it. he would gaze at it for hours, thinking of hope and what their family could have been, and what it wasn't. isn't. ] I'd like to take it. I want to make a copy. [ for himself. he looks up at her. ]

[Hayley nods, glancing to him.] Of course. [She wouldn't hesitate to let him have the picture back. Of course, she does what's instinct to her at this point and retrieves her phone from her back pocket.]

Just let me... I know you'll bring it back, but just in case I want to look again before you do. [She gestures for him to place it on the counter so she can take a photo of the photo. Plus, then she actually can have it with her, no matter where she goes.]

[ (headcanon: klaus' home screen is definitely rebekah holding hope at christmas. send anyone to fight me on this.)

of course he does as she asks, setting it atop the counter. it's a good idea, and one he too sees the benefit of- ] Perhaps I should too.

[Hayley will move the photo to the center of the counter, making sure the overhead light isn't directly above it. No one wants a giant hot spot of light on the photo.]

Here, that should help. [She'll snap one and then move aside for him.]

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