[Founders] - Don't Leave

Remy was, of course, in the bath when Dawn finally decided that she was being ridiculous and moseyed her way, heels dragging, to the Lalonde’s room. The door had been unlocked, something which Dawn thought was awfully bold and kind of stupid considering that the Motel housed a fair number of people who *weren’t* the founders and that Remy was vulnerable and likely nude in the bathroom. No, definitely nude, Dawn corrects after realizing that she was just terrified to acknowledge that Remy was naked. This was stupid.

“I’m here,” Dawn called out, closing the door behind her with far less grace than Remy had forty-minutes prior. She did, however, click the lock closed. Only a few moments into the room, she was hit with the relief of an Air Conditioner that worked far better than the one that was in her room. The dry chill was enough to make Dawn feel like lying down and just going to sleep somewhere the muggy summer wasn’t making her miserable. “--just so you know.”

Remy didn’t respond, but that’s because she was too busy singing to herself. Of course, she had to have a nice singing voice, too. Remy Lalonde had gotten all of the good cards when the Stri-Londes were dealt their hands.
Dawn found herself sitting on the end of Remy’s bed without many other choices for places to sit. There was a dingy wooden chair with upholstery probably older than Dawn herself tucked partway under a desk covered in Remy’s several travel bags and suitcases, and a recliner that was home to, somehow, a pile of clothes despite the Founders having checked in earlier that day and making Zero public appearances since.

The T.V. was entertaining itself on some Infomercial for the P90X, exercise weight loss bullshittery with paid actors and cringey composition. She would’ve changed the channel but she couldn’t see where the remote was at first-glance and her focus was *mostly* on listening to Remy sing over the beneficial lies of the spokesman. A single finger was depressed to turn the volume down on the television itself. The gyrations of the actors on the screen went silent.

Dawn didn’t know Remy could speak French, let alone *sing* in it.

It was another 15 or so minutes before Remy stopped singing, which was disappointing and anxiety-inducing because it meant that she was likely getting out of the tub. Quickly, too quick to be casual, Dawn stood up and moved over towards Remy’s fridge which was tucked behind a half-wall corner from the Bathroom, just in case her host came out in something scant. “Hey, I’m here!” Dawn called, loudly, into the open Refrigerator. The sloppily stacked containers of cold chinese food don’t reply, but Remy does.
“Okay! Movie’s in, like, 10!” There’s a misplaced cheeriness to Remy’s tone that makes Dawn feel uneasy for a moment but the focus of carefully thumbing back the sharp accordions of metal to lift the edge of the paper lids and scrutinizingly peer inside the containers is enough to keep her from dwelling on it too long. One of the containers had some sort of chow mein mixed in with some kind of sweet and sour meat, and it was a good enough choice. Dawn pulled it out and grabbed the still-in-plastic chopsticks that had been sitting on top of the stack in the fridge. The cold wood was a nice reprieve from the summer heat.

“Hey, I’m allowed to just take whatever, right?” Dawn confirms, standing up from the fridge and looking out to Remy, who had just come out from the bathroom. She was turned away, her hair tucked up in a wrapped towel and her body obscured by her housecoat. Dawn didn’t allow herself to worry on if Remy was wearing anything else underneath because that would make her lose her appetite from anxiety and she really, *really* wanted this food.
	“Yup! I’m done with it, it’ll just get left here when we ship out in a few days so eat it up.” Remy replies while sorting through the tangle of her clothes on the recliner. The monotone was seeping back in. Dawn left the paper and silver lid on the counter with the other empty food containers and moved back over to the foot of the bed. The remote was tossed from where it’d been buried to land beside her outer thigh.

“That’s kind of wasteful.” The chopsticks cracked crisply as she separated them at the top, rolling them against eachother for a bit to knock off the strings of splinters that might be lingering. Dell had told her that it looked like she was trying to start a fire. She remembers that every time she goes through her chopstick ritual, now.

“They sent me more than I could eat. Risks of ordering from somewhere you’ve never eaten at before, I guess.”

Dawn’s about to reply, swallowing down a congealed mess of sweet and noodles, when Remy pulls her arms from her housecoat and lets it hang at her waist from its tie. Dawn nearly chokes as the porcelain bareness of Remy’s back catches her eye, but she refuses to do anything incriminating and instead swallows hard and blinks away the sting of almost-choking tears from her eyes. Remy is quick to slip on her bra, already clasped up, and a shirt before Dawn embarasses herself. The dead-silent Infomercial is now the most interesting thing that Dawn has ever seen and her eyes glue to the screen.
	The periphery of her vision doesn’t give her enough information to tell what movements are happening past the fringe of her bangs and she doesn’t look this gift horse in the mouth.

The bed creaks softly as Remy throws herself across it up near the pillows. Dawn still doesn’t look, even though she’s *sure* Remy’s clothed now, she just focuses on chewing through the cold toughness of what she’s decided is overcooked sweet n’ sour pork. She hoped Remy didn’t pay too much for this food because it sucked. Remy had more than enough money to not care.

“Sixty-Nine.” Remy says flatly.

Dawn *does* choke this time, but plays it off by clearing her throat and croaking out a “--hhwat?”

“The remote’s beside you, honey. Channel needs to be changed. Unless you’re preoccupied with...” She trails off just long enough for the infomercial to display its product. “--P90X.”

“Right.” was all she gave in return, burying the ends of her chopsticks under the stiff chow mein and fumbling for the remote. 0-6-9. The channel changed and started displaying the Pay-Per-View information of the last 3 minutes of the movie that had been playing already.

“You want something to drink?” Remy asks, the bed rocking slightly as she went to retrieve something from the nightstand. The drawer rolled open loudly and something heavy, thick, and glass was pulled out. Dawn shook her head.

“Nah. I’m good.”

-----

The movie was fine. It started out as a cheesy horror flick but had changed into something unique that Dawn had been impressed by. Remy had seen the movie already once before, apparently, so she didn’t give too many reactions. At some point they’d moved around on the bed. Dawn was sat up near the headboard, pillows behind her back, and Remy was partially curled up with her head on Dawn’s knee, separated by a bunched up blanket acting as a pillow.

The end credits were scrolling and Remy was half-conscious. The bottle of wine she’d had in her bedside table was empty, standing up beside the bedside lamp, and Remy had its smell decorating her alongside the flowery and inoffensive scent of whatever soaps she’d used in the bath. Dawn idly thumbed a curl of hair against Remy’s temple, boundaries long since broken by booze and the fact that it was now almost midnight.

“I should probably head to bed.”

Dawn didn’t *want* to leave, but she probably should. There was some kind of Presentation that they all had to be ready for at around 7:15am and Dawn knew it’d probably be another hour before she got to sleep once she had to move and go back into the sticky heat of her room.

“Mmmmn. Just sleep here.” Remy complained, mostly because she didn’t want to move. She pulled her blankets up higher, barely covering Dawn’s knees. The chill of the room was settling in on Dawn through her clothes and, as much as she would’ve loved to just fall asleep as she was, Remy was hogging all of the blanket.
	“C’mon, get up.” Dawn urged with a slight bump of her knee. Remy just curled tighter and pressed the sharp of her high cheekbone into Dawn’s leg, even through the buffer of blanket.

“Rem, I have to *go*.” Dawn urged, moving her hand from cupping the alcohol-warmed curve of Remy’s head to her shoulder and giving a strong few shakes. She’d expected Remy to begrudgingly release then, to let Dawn leave and just mope about it, but her expectations weren’t met. Instead, Remy started sobbing. It was tearless at first, just drunk and hiccuping, but only once or twice before there were actual tears. Dawn began to panic, which didn’t look like much on the outside but was a kicked hornet’s nest inside her head and her chest.

“--woah, fuck, hey! What’s up!?” The question came out blunt and shocked, her hands raising up in the air as though the shake was the reason Remy started crying.

“*Please* don’t leave,” Remy half-slurred into Dawn’s knee. “--I don’t wanna be alone, okay? I just don’t wanna... ffuckin’ be alone, alright?” Remy’s locked arm tightened around Dawn’s thigh. Dawn wasn’t sure how to process any of what was happening.

“Okay, okay. I can’t sleep like this, though, okay? I need to... lie down. I’m not going to leave.”

That seemed to satiate Remy enough to let go and to move, wiggling backwards to let Dawn have enough room to get under the covers. Before she did that, though, Dawn turned the TV off and flicked off the bedside lamp, bathing the room in an unfamiliar darkness. The only sounds in the room were the humming of the A/C, the shuffling of uncomfortable motel blankets, and the trailing hitches of a wine-drunk Remy as Dawn got comfortable. Remy was quick to latch onto her once she’d settled, almost painfully tight.

“...you okay?” Dawn asked again.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine...” Remy replied sluggishly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before.”

“Yeah...”

Dawn frowned. The gears in her head turned as she tried to figure out how to word things to get the answers she wanted out of the Lalonde, but it seemed her silence did more towards that goal than anything she was contemplating asking.

“--I’m just sick of it, y’know? Responsibility, the uhh... the scheduling conflicts, I dunno what I did but nobody wants to just, like, *hang out* anymore. Did I do something wrong??”

Dawn continued to frown, but now because she’d gotten her answer. Her cheek came to rest on the crown of Remy’s still bath-wet hair.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Being an adult sucks.” Remy says flatly, no hint of sobbing on her wine-scented breath.

“...yeah. It does.”