Closed RP - Claire, Nate and Sam, at least one of whom may be (more) imaginary (than usual)

[seafissure.livejournal.com]

*cough* SOCKPUPPETRY - Mission complete! *cough*

Claire was in the Gryffindor common room right around 2AM or so, growling and smacking at the 'start' button on the damned DDR machine, then narrowing her eyes at the screen and standing on the pads as though she were about to do battle. Because she was about to do battle, damn it all. This thing had defied her long enough and if she had to come down in the middle of the night to get it to herself so that she could master this bitch then so be it. Disaffected art kid be damned - she was gonna learn to hop to these shitty dance tunes if it killed her.

Which, apparently, it might. A Kind Lady it was not. As the screen mocked her efforts with a 'C' (and she'd worked her way up from a FAIL, thanks) and before she had a chance to pick a song for round two, the sound of nearby applause gave her pause.

That, friends, was mocking applause. Slow and clearly hiding a smirk, and guaranteeing someone at the very least a dirty look. GRRR. (and ugh. she was totally dirty enough at the moment. sweaty, at least.)

"Oh yeah?" she said, as she turned, already hipshot. "You try and d-- oh god. Holy shit, hi."

Okay, no. See, now was probably a really bad time for her dead brother to show up. Not that there was probably ever a good time for it, but...

"You really are getting better," her dead-but-sitting-right-there brother said with a smirk as he scrubbed at his ever-present stubble. "If you could just cut back on the riverdancing, you'd be a lot better off, though."

Claire stared through him for a second. Oh she believed he was there alright - hell, she'd seen her share of dead and post-dead people to not question it. In fact--

"Fuck you, Nate. What took you so goddamn long, anyway? String of girlfriends you had to go see first?"

The words already stung as they left her mouth, but she couldn't help it. Not that they seemed to affect him; Nate just snorted a laugh and settled back into the sofa. "Swear, you are just as fucking hostile as ever. I missed that." He shrugged. "Hoped you'd grow out of it, sure, but hey. Maybe it's part of your god-given grace. Maybe it runs in the family."

"You left me," said Claire as though this were his doing, jaw set to keep it from wibbling. "Us," she amended quickly. "You left us. Me and David and Maya." She didn't bother mentioning Mom, 'cause you know. She loved the woman but, Jesus-- no need to drag her into this. Claire already sounded as though she were about six years old.

"Yeah," agreed Nate, standing in that way he had of looking like he was still slouching over and in no way qualified to be anyone's older brother, much less dad. "I really did."

"Maya's a fucking orphan," spat Claire as Nate came closer, doing what Claire did best-- lashing out when threatened.

"Yeah," agreed Nate again. "But she's gonna be ok." He moved closer still until it almost seemed like he was really really standing there; solid and smelling like he always did and arms around her shoulders like when she was little. "You, though. You need to stop riverdancing. You know where the center is. So just move from step to step. It's the only way you'll get anywhere."

Claire shut her eyes and leaned in, but didn't hug back. "I have no fucking clue what I'm doing," she mumbled, her face feeling as though it really was pressed to his beat-up flannel shirt. "And when did you turn into a Dance Dance Revolution guru?"

"You will. Stop whining," said Nate, smile evident in his voice. "And watch your fucking language."

She was still laughing when she noticed that Nate was gone again. But apparently she was still not the only person in the room.