Room 418, Friday Evening

[wrongkindofsith]

Given she was not a sentimentalist even when it didn't feel like the island was going out of its way to provoke her, this had been a trying week for Cara. Between one thing and another, by the time Friday evening rolled around, she was not the happiest Mord'Sith in Fandom (something of an achievement, considering she was the only Mord'Sith in Fandom).

Which was how instead of getting ready for the dance she came to be sprawled out on her bed sans leathers, occasionally casting a death glare at an innocent bunch of roses. Mostly innocent. The bastard things did keep making her sneeze, after all.

[open, sure]

Comments

[redandblueblur.livejournal.com]

Clark so failed at doing what Cara would like, always forgetting that she wasn't really the flowers type of girl or the girl who'd want to get dressed up and go to a dance. This didn't stop him from going to her room all dressed up and knocking on the door with a quiet, "Hey Cara, it's me, Clark." Like she wouldn't know the sound of his voice.