Jill will always love her food, and she can't help but smile at the memory of a particularly good meal as she shoves more containers into the bag.
"I'm sure it's of no surprise, but there was a stall selling the most perfect bread. It was warm and soft on the inside, crispy on the outside... and they had so many spreads and oils to dip it in. I imagine I was supposed to take it home to eat, given the packaging, but I sat on a nearby bench and nearly ate the whole loaf myself. There was an artichoke dip full of butter and cheese that I could eat every day."
Yes, her favorite meal that isn't necessarily a seasonal staple was the bread. Jill sighs. Maybe she'll stop by and get another loaf and container of dip once she's done here.
Clive can't help but smile, though he keeps his attention on what he's doing, fishing plastic cutlery out of the sink, where he has never washed a single dish. (Because he does not own any.)
"I haven't had an artichoke since we were last in Dhalmekia," he replies. "And that definitely did not include butter and cheese."
Sounds decadent. How fortunate for the people here.
Not we. Jill tempers her excitement with scooping up the last of the containers into the bag, and clearing out the bin that had disappeared in among the mess. He needs a bigger one.
She would love to share that with him, watch his own face light up at the taste, but that's not a thing to share anymore.
"You should try it, if you have the chance. You'll love it."
He hears the we and wonders if it would be so terrible if they were just friends; he may not be in a position where he can be a partner to her right now, but they were close long before they were together. Still, that's for her to decide. He chooses not to suggest it again and again.
"I think I will," he says. "Though when this place is clean, perhaps I'll actually enjoy being here."
She doesn't know how she can ever go back to knowing him as simply a friend. She doesn't know how to not fall into him, and it seems unfair to saddle him with her yearning when he doesn't want it. And she thinks it's unfair to do to herself as well: to dangle what she wants most right in front of her, to bite her tongue in every conversation, to put her emotions into a box. She will do nothing but build resentment.
"You'll at least be able to move without knocking into something," she murmurs. With the containers taken care of, she reaches for the laundry bag to start shoving what she assumes are his dirty clothes into it. "Torgal might even let you have a spot on the mattress."
With the state of this room, it's all dirty. Clive takes two steps back to the mattress and uses his bare foot to kick back a square of blanket to reveal a huge bloodied spot where Torgal had gnawed on a meaty bone.
"I ought to just replace the damn thing, and keep this one for him."
They've both slept in filthy conditions, but Jill still can't stop the sound of disgust that escapes her throat.
"They do make dog beds. Surely we can find one that he fits. And... you do need a new mattress, I fear. I wouldn't know how to go about purchasing one..."
She wants to spend more time today. He's rebuffed her a few times now and it feels rude to do it again, so despite looking briefly surprised, he replies:
"I don't have plans. I'd appreciate your help, Jill."
Jill nods. He didn't say wait and do nothing, however. She'll fish around for something to at least do a pass over the windowsill and the kitchenette, grimacing at the dirt.
She wonders if he'd be living like this if she never came to the city at all, or if she's somehow driven him to this. It wasn't this bad before, was it?
The short walk up the hall is a good time to let out a long, tense exhale, out of her earshot so it doesn't make her feel uncomfortable. He's uncomfortable. He's glad to spend time with her, and glad to have a cleaner space, but the embarrassment of her seeing it still clings to him. It'd been easier, before. No Torgal, no visitors.
By time he comes back, he's braced himself properly again and puts on a small smile.
"I'll take the wood down later," he says. "I can't thank you enough for your help."
"That's alright, Jill," he assures her. He doesn't want her to feel poorly about that, either. Whatever she's feeling, no matter how defensive and hurt it might make him feel, she's entitled to. He owes her that.
He swallows his breath.
"Should we go now, or do you want to do more here first?"
He's not so sure about that. The logistics of setting it up –– and getting the hold mattress out –– feel like he could have her here all day and then some, and he doesn't want to count his chocobos before they hatch. But it would be nice.
"I'd like that," he says, and he realizes he can't go out in boxers and a t-shirt, so he makes his way over to the clean laundry to select whatever has been least exposed to wolf hair. Grey sweatpants and a hoodie. "Do you know where we should go?"
"... not really," Jill admits, crossing her arms and casting her gaze over to Torgal so that she doesn't watch Clive dress. "My apartment came furnished. We can ask someone once we're out, I suppose."
Torgal, still working on that femur, just gives a lazy half-wag of his tail.
"At least there's not much else he can destroy," Jill says, reaching for the door. She feels a slight pang of anxiety--with her luck, Dion or P will see her with Clive and she'll have some explaining to do--but she swallows it down. If they saw the state of his room, they would feel moved to help, too.
He hums his agreement as he pulls the hoodie over his head, and then sets about gathering up the last bag of garbage and the biggest beam from the loft bed to take down with them. She can get the doors, he hopes.
"If we come back and the couch is in splinters, too, the owners of this building will surely put me out on the streets," he says, only half joking.
she gets spotted out with clive and then he comes home to a destroyed couch
She does get the door, and any that are on the way, without second thought. They were a team for too many years for her to not instinctively move a few steps ahead when his hands are full.
"I would think it something personal by that point." He's let her furniture be, save for the dusting of wolfy undercoat on everything.
Good woman. He adjusts his grip on the beam and lets the bag hang from his wrist for the duration of the elevator ride, shoulders leant against the mirrored wall.
"He knows it's my fault," he says, lightly, but there's a self-aware little look in her direction.
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"What did you enjoy most?"
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"I'm sure it's of no surprise, but there was a stall selling the most perfect bread. It was warm and soft on the inside, crispy on the outside... and they had so many spreads and oils to dip it in. I imagine I was supposed to take it home to eat, given the packaging, but I sat on a nearby bench and nearly ate the whole loaf myself. There was an artichoke dip full of butter and cheese that I could eat every day."
Yes, her favorite meal that isn't necessarily a seasonal staple was the bread. Jill sighs. Maybe she'll stop by and get another loaf and container of dip once she's done here.
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"I haven't had an artichoke since we were last in Dhalmekia," he replies. "And that definitely did not include butter and cheese."
Sounds decadent. How fortunate for the people here.
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Not we. Jill tempers her excitement with scooping up the last of the containers into the bag, and clearing out the bin that had disappeared in among the mess. He needs a bigger one.
She would love to share that with him, watch his own face light up at the taste, but that's not a thing to share anymore.
"You should try it, if you have the chance. You'll love it."
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"I think I will," he says. "Though when this place is clean, perhaps I'll actually enjoy being here."
Not likely. It's practically a coffin.
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"You'll at least be able to move without knocking into something," she murmurs. With the containers taken care of, she reaches for the laundry bag to start shoving what she assumes are his dirty clothes into it. "Torgal might even let you have a spot on the mattress."
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"I ought to just replace the damn thing, and keep this one for him."
And put it where? Who knows.
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"They do make dog beds. Surely we can find one that he fits. And... you do need a new mattress, I fear. I wouldn't know how to go about purchasing one..."
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"I think I'd need more floor space either way, or to get a new loft so my bed can be up on the wall again."
He also does not know how to build a structurally sound bed, much less one that is Torgal-proof.
"And then his bed can take up most of the floor."
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"If you'd like, I can help you look once we've made space in here. Assuming you don't have plans today, either."
A furniture store should be safe enough to explore together without emotions getting involved.
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"I don't have plans. I'd appreciate your help, Jill."
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"Of course. You've proven you need proper rest."
Just like the rest of them.
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The trash bags are piling up. Something will have to be done about the floor and fur, but that's a problem for another day.
"Wait here," he says. "I'll take these to the hatch."
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She wonders if he'd be living like this if she never came to the city at all, or if she's somehow driven him to this. It wasn't this bad before, was it?
It doesn't feel good.
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By time he comes back, he's braced himself properly again and puts on a small smile.
"I'll take the wood down later," he says. "I can't thank you enough for your help."
He can never let it get this bad again.
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"It's selfish," Jill admits abruptly. "It's guilt. I can't do anything."
Not about Joshua, not about whatever is going on in Clive's heart.
"But this, I can do."
Just like how he pays the bills, she supposes. It's all they can manage.
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He swallows his breath.
"Should we go now, or do you want to do more here first?"
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And then she won't have a reason to stay up, worrying about him.
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"I'd like that," he says, and he realizes he can't go out in boxers and a t-shirt, so he makes his way over to the clean laundry to select whatever has been least exposed to wolf hair. Grey sweatpants and a hoodie. "Do you know where we should go?"
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"Surely there are a number of places... I'm sure people always need these things. Torgal, you're going to stay here, alright, boy?"
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"At least there's not much else he can destroy," Jill says, reaching for the door. She feels a slight pang of anxiety--with her luck, Dion or P will see her with Clive and she'll have some explaining to do--but she swallows it down. If they saw the state of his room, they would feel moved to help, too.
that should happen lmao it would be funny
"If we come back and the couch is in splinters, too, the owners of this building will surely put me out on the streets," he says, only half joking.
she gets spotted out with clive and then he comes home to a destroyed couch
"I would think it something personal by that point." He's let her furniture be, save for the dusting of wolfy undercoat on everything.
flawless plans
"He knows it's my fault," he says, lightly, but there's a self-aware little look in her direction.
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