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themutantunderground · 6 years

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Hey so I’m for the dialogue prompts could you do 18?

18 – “You’re a fool.” !! Set in semi-canon, after S1E8! John is sad and doubting himself, and Clarice is protective.

Okay, this is getting to be a bit much. Clarice leans her chair back, nearly tipping it, so she can get a better look into John’s office. He’s standing in front of his desk, arms braced against the wood, his expression completely blank as he lets the man in front of him chew him out.

Yeah, sure, as a leader, John regularly dealt with criticism. Even when it was hurled at his face. But this? No one should have to stand there and take it when someone was insulting them up and down, over and over, for how they were running an overextended, overworked, packed-to-the-max safehouse when they were doing their best.

“This is the most incompetently run place I’ve ever been, do you know you have people sleeping on the floor…”

Clarice rolls her eyes. Of course John knows that. Where else were they supposed to sleep? Every bed was taken, every cot was already put out. She knows for a fact that they were planning on looking for more sleeping bags and blow-up mattresses, but going out for a supply run right now was risky. Still, John had mentioned going by himself.

She would’ve expected John to argue back by now, to stand up for himself, but he’s just…taking it. Like he deserves it or something. Yeah, his arms are tense, but he doesn’t look like he plans on stopping this guy any time soon.

“That safehouse at Senoia fell just a few days ago. How long before it’s this one? What’re you going to do about it?”

“We’re doing everything we can,” John says, his tone even but somehow lifeless. Ever since he came back from that trip with Reed, ever since Pulse died…John’s been different. When he’s working on a mission, he’s driven and determined, almost to a scary degree, but outside of that, he’s been distracted. Clarice is pretty certain he’s grieving but doing his best not to let anyone know.

Such a John thing to do.

The mutant gets in John’s face. “You’re a fool if you think a cinderblock wall is going to stop Sentinel Services—”

“Hey!” Clarice is up and out of her chair before she even thinks about what she’s doing. She darts through the office doorway and gets between John and the asshole, forcing him to move. “Back off.”

“Who’s this, your bodyguard?” the man asks, amused.

“Clarice, it’s okay,” John says, some spark coming back into his voice. He pushes away from his desk and reaches out, his hand landing on her arm. “I’ve got this.”

“I could totally tell,” Clarice replies, shaking him off. She doesn’t want to undermine him, but she’s not going to sit there while this jackass tells him off and John just doesn’t do anything. She glares at the man, hoping he gets unnerved. “You’ve had your say, so now you can go back to enjoying all the protection this place is giving you.”

“This place is a time bomb,” he snaps, throwing out a cliché that’s supposed to make them panic, “It’s only a matter of time before Sentinel Services finds it.”

“Then you’re totally welcome to get the hell out,” Clarice says, making a flippant gesture toward the door.

Finally, he takes the hint and goes before Clarice can make a portal and shove him through it. She’s highly aware of John standing behind her, his sigh brushing the back of her neck he’s so close.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbles.

“You sure weren’t going to do anything about it,” Clarice says, turning around. Oh, wow, yeah, he’s really close, her elbow almost pops him when she turns. But she doesn’t move back. Instead, she tilts her head back to look him in the eyes, forcing him to look at her, too. “You shouldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

John nods, but it isn’t a nod of agreement. It just means that he heard her. “Maybe he’s right.”

That startles her, and she stares at him, wondering where he’s going with this. He sits down on the edge of his desk, his head hanging down, and she hates how he looks almost defeated. She stands in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Things might not be perfect around here, but we’re doing everything we can to keep these people safe. And to help others.” She pokes him in his big Hercules-esque arm. “So what, exactly, is he right about?”

“I don’t know if it’s enough. If I’m doing enough.” He shoves a hand back through his hair, and she notices that it’s down, not up in a bun or a ponytail.

“You’re trying,” Clarice says. She hesitates, then puts her hand over his. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone try as hard as you.”

He glances up at her, his eyes not as dull as before. Maybe he doesn’t totally feel the same way, but at least he listened to her. Sure, he screws up sometimes, but she’s starting to think he’s too hard on himself. Expects too much from himself.

She squeezes his arm. “I mean it.”

“Clarice…”

There’s a flurry of footsteps, and two kids come racing into the office, running around the desk and chasing one another, both of them yelling. It breaks the moment, and she steps back, giving them room to latch onto John’s sides.

“Tell Ty to give Mr. Freckles back!” the girl demands, tugging on John’s vest and pointing at the boy on John’s other side. Her bright red eyes flash as she glares at the boy. “He stole him.”

“I’m just borrowing him,” the boy says, an action figure with only one arm clutched in his hand as he peeks out at the girl. “I’ll give him back later.”

“Now!”

Clarice’s eyebrows raise as the two kids start to bicker, and she’s glad Norah, who she’s sort of taken under her wing, is quieter. “I think I’ll leave this to you,” she says, backing toward the door.

John gives her something that’s almost a smile. “Thanks. For earlier.”

She gives him a thumbs up and then darts out the door, making a face at herself. A thumbs up? Man, she’s such a dork sometimes.

#thunderblink

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