It's a late night like any other in the tiny apartment that looks right out of those home reco magazines for people who really like antiquing. It helps the impression, too, that Amity is an obsessive cleaner who doesn't let any surface go uncleaned for more than a few days (or at least that's what it seemed like at times). Of course, tonight, like most other nights, Amity has found herself unable to settle into a restful sleep. She slept slightly initially, then woke with a start from a dream she barely remembers, sweating and her heart pounding. Carefully, trying not to wake Mavis, she slips from the bed and heads out into the kitchen to start making herself a drink. Some tea without caffeine was the ticket. There she stood, leaning against the counter in the kitchen and staring at the electric kettle as it began to bubble. Another night in Amity's apartment.
Another night where Amity can't sleep.
Mavis sleeps like the dead. Slipping out of the shared bed with the mortal is rather effortless. Although, once Amity is in the kitchen, there's the sound of her bedroom door opening and the shuffling, dragging footsteps of a sleepy-headed Mavis. The bathroom door closes, but doesn't quite catch it the latch and only just hits the frame. A few seconds later, Mavis is sitting on the toilet with her eyes half-closed and hair mussed. She pees. It's not a big deal, everyone does it.
Amity, in the kitchen, would then hear the toilet flush, the sink run for a little bit, the bathroom door being stumbled into with a human body to nudge it open, and then Mavis' uncoordinated footsteps moving down the hallway. The artist grunts something in greeting to Amity as she pads into the kitchen. Whatever she'd said sounded like, "mnu-oh," which may have been a, "hello," but who knows. She's dressed in her pajamas: salmon-colored tank-top and loose, cottony shorts in the shade of burnt orange. Mavis opens the fridge and hisses as the lightbulb inside of it blinds her light-sensitive eyes.
Amity starts, surprised by the sudden appearance of Mavis. She /shouldn't/ feel surprised--Mavis gets up to pee sometimes--but she is. She's used to having the place kind of to herself at night. Solitude, really. She blinks, watching Mavis for a long moment before she turns to pour her hot water over the tea bag waiting in her mug. Then she finally turns back to Mavis.
"Hello," she says quietly, fingers wrapped around the warm mug. "You're not usually awake this time of morning." Because it /is/ morning.
Mavis didn't note Amity's surprise at her arrival in the kitchen. She'd barely had her eyes cracked open enough to see by. The artist moves some things around in the fridge, opens a drawer, closes a drawer, and then finds a bottle of cold water that she was looking for right inside one of the shelves of the door. She had a chaotic "organization" style that likely clashes with Amity's sense of rigid order. Mavis closes the fridge, steps over to the counter next to Amity, and leans against it. She lets her eyelids close and just goes still, breathing gently like she'd fallen asleep right there with the water bottle in one hand, the other about to twist off the cap. After a few seconds, the mortal gives a little jolt, her fingers unscrew the bottle cap, and she drinks from the bottle. Her eyes open and Mavis slowly rolls them to peer at Amity out of the corner of one. She gulps down a few more swallows, lowers the half-drained water bottle, and murmurs in a thick, sleepy voice, "Hullo.. mn-" What. "-time is it?"
Mavis lets her eyes close again, the dark lashes lowering over her dusky cheeks. She shrugs with her slim shoulders, too groggy to vocalize her sentiments of agreement, and hums "mhn" aloud for Amity to interpret. She sets the water bottle and cap on the counter behind her without looking or opening her eyes. The human hadn't quite caught up to be awake and in the land of the living yet.
A moment later, she opens her eyes and turns her face to look at Amity. She'd washed her face in the bathroom in an effort to perk herself up, but it wasn't helping the mortal in that regard.
"So," she says, "Do you just.. clean all night? Drink tea."
"Read books. Get online and talk to people. That kind of thing, I guess." Amity agrees. Her expression is sheepish, almost embarrassed by the admission. She rolls a shoulder, looks down at her tea as if it might help her supply some kind of answer. But no, it's just tea and it can't help. Her pale cheeks redden a little.
"I just don't sleep well. Or easily. I have... I don't know. I have nightmares but I never remember them. All I know is I wake up in a cold sweat. Or I don't fall asleep at all..."
Mavis listens with a sleepy, thoughtful expression that slowly turns sympathetic. She scoots along the counter to share Amity's space and lean against her side. The human tilts her head to bump, rests it on Amity's shoulder.
"Yeah," she murmurs, "I kind of noticed that you're gone most nights." Her cheek nuzzles to find a more comfortable spot to rest against Amity's bony-not-a-beanpole shoulder. She struggles to find something consoling to say and just says to Amity, "I'm sorry," then clears her throat and wonders, "You don't remember anything at all? If they're reoccurring.. mebbe there's a root. That's what the quacks say."
Mavis listens with a sleepy, thoughtful expression that slowly turns sympathetic. She scoots along the counter to share Amity's space and leans against her side. The human tilts her head to rest it on Amity's shoulder.
"Yeah," she murmurs, "I kind of noticed that you're gone most nights." Her cheek nuzzles to find a more comfortable spot to rest against Amity's bony-not-a-beanpole shoulder. She struggles to find something consoling to say and just says to Amity, "I'm sorry," then clears her throat and wonders, "You don't remember anything at all? If they're reoccurring.. mebbe there's a root. That's what the quacks say."
Amity almost (almost) flinches when her space is entered but then instantly relaxes as Mavis settles against her shoulder. Her shoulders rise and a fall and then she leans her head over to rest against Mavis's. She'll enjoy the closeness as long as it lasts. Thanks, Mavis.
"I didn't realize you'd noticed," she murmurs, embarrassed. "And I don't know if they're recurring." Lie number one. They definitely are. "And if they have a root... yeah, I guess? Probably. Not like my life's been all sunshine and flowers." Kind of lie number two. Sort of. "Wait, if they're quacks why do we listen to them?"
"Well," Mavis says with a husky laugh, "I was going to notice eventually." She grows a little heavier against Amity's side, body relaxing and winding down into that listless sleep mode. The human's awake, though, and she's listening with Amity's warm body against her side. Whatever comfort she couldn't convey in words, Mavis tries to make up for with this human-to-human(?!) contact.
"They could be, if you don't remember them," she notes about the none-reoccurring dreams then Mavis frowns. She'd kind of supposed Amity's skittish behavior from time-to-time had reason and context. These things always did. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she says, a little shyly. "But if you do, then I'm here, y'know?" Her knuckles brush against the back of Amity's hand closest to her. Mavis slips her hand inside of Amity's and she gently hold its, like she'd captured a moth to be set free outside. She snickers at Amity's retort about the "quacks" and says, "Listen? Nah, I just cherry-pick what seems relevant."
"I don't know if that's /really/ the best way to go about getting medical advice, Mavis," Amity murmurs, smiling. The other woman makes her smile. Makes her /want/ to laugh even if she can never quite seem to get the sound to bubble out freely the way Mavis does. Her hand turns, grasps Mavis' in return and entwines fingers. "It's complicated. Really complicated, but I basically lost my family when I was 14. Spent a while in some really awful places. I don't remember a lot of it, honestly. I think my brain is suppressing it to protect me, sometimes."
Mavis' eyes open and she peers up then wiggles to get her head out from beneath Amity's resting on the mussy pile of her black hair. Her fingers tighten and she keeps their hands linked as she leans away a little to frown at her friend. There are worried lines on Mavis' face that Amity hasn't seen before.
"I'm.. really sorry, Amity," she says to her, quiet and earnest. Mavis didn't really know what to say beyond that. Again, words couldn't sum up what she wanted to express so Mavis un-links their hands and uses her elbow to nudge under Amity's arm. Her other hand plucks Amity's tea cup out of her hand and sets it on the kitchen counter. Then she hugs her and tells her again, "Really, really sorry. And sorry that I made you dredge it all up, I-" She stops herself, sighs. There was a heavy ache in her chest, she was heartsick for her friend, but Mavis didn't want to make this about herself. She loosens her hug a little to lean back and look up at Amity. "Did.. you want to cuddle up on the couch? I might fall asleep, but," Mavis pauses, rolls her eyes at herself, and shrugs a shoulder. She felt lame for what she's about to say, "I want to be here with you.
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