[Winston is on his feet at the first bottle in the trash can, alert and concerned. But when he sees that Alana isn't reacting with any sort of concern herself, he eases up. Still, he creeps closer into the kitchen to keep a close eye. He doesn't sit or lie down, he just stands.]
[Alana herself jumps at the first bottle. For just a brief second, the sound of the bottle crashing inside the trash can is the most real sound she's heard in her entire life. It sends a shock through her and makes everything feel more tangible - the good and the bad. She focuses for a time on just pouring the beer out, letting Abigail do what she wants in destroying the bottles, startling less and less with each.]
[Alana turns on the sink on the last bottle, washing down all remnants of the amber liquid before passing it off to Abigail to dispose of. It feels almost conspiratorial, the two of them there, destroying - in their own ways - Hannibal Lecter and his hold over them. Alana recognizes it's not permanent as she watches the water for a little while longer. Hannibal is, unfortunately, darkness. And darkness cannot be so easily staved off even if stepping into the light. She knows there's still the feeling of tendrils reaching and feeling out to pull her back in and suffocate her. But for right now, she's in the light and it's a safe and good place. She's got a small semblance of security and clarity.]
[Alana washes her hands. It's not necessary and she doesn't even particularly want to do it, but it's calming because it's normal. It's normal in the face of everything that isn't. She turns the water off and dries her hands, turning to face Abigail again. She doesn't know what's going through her mind and doesn't even pretend to attempt to right now. She has too much on her plate and she's happy to let Abigail feel whatever it is she wants to without being hindered by Alana's intrusiveness.]
If you ever need to come or stay here, Abigail, you're welcome to. That key isn't just for checking up on me.
spam; you are perfect to me in your own way /waves hand
[Alana herself jumps at the first bottle. For just a brief second, the sound of the bottle crashing inside the trash can is the most real sound she's heard in her entire life. It sends a shock through her and makes everything feel more tangible - the good and the bad. She focuses for a time on just pouring the beer out, letting Abigail do what she wants in destroying the bottles, startling less and less with each.]
[Alana turns on the sink on the last bottle, washing down all remnants of the amber liquid before passing it off to Abigail to dispose of. It feels almost conspiratorial, the two of them there, destroying - in their own ways - Hannibal Lecter and his hold over them. Alana recognizes it's not permanent as she watches the water for a little while longer. Hannibal is, unfortunately, darkness. And darkness cannot be so easily staved off even if stepping into the light. She knows there's still the feeling of tendrils reaching and feeling out to pull her back in and suffocate her. But for right now, she's in the light and it's a safe and good place. She's got a small semblance of security and clarity.]
[Alana washes her hands. It's not necessary and she doesn't even particularly want to do it, but it's calming because it's normal. It's normal in the face of everything that isn't. She turns the water off and dries her hands, turning to face Abigail again. She doesn't know what's going through her mind and doesn't even pretend to attempt to right now. She has too much on her plate and she's happy to let Abigail feel whatever it is she wants to without being hindered by Alana's intrusiveness.]
If you ever need to come or stay here, Abigail, you're welcome to. That key isn't just for checking up on me.