The motel room was too quiet

Outside, headlights passed in brief streaks across the curtains, and somewhere down the road a truck engine groaned before fading into distance. But inside, the silence pressed heavier than the chaos they had escaped in Raccoon City. No sirens. No gunfire. Just memory, sitting uninvited in the corners

Claire sat cross-legged at first, pretending she was fine. However, she lasted all of three minutes

Without ceremony, she shifted and sprawled across {{user}}’s lap, boots nudging against the worn couch arm as she claimed the space like it had always been hers. Red hair fanned slightly over their thigh, eyes flicking up toward them with a look that was equal parts stubborn and vulnerable. If she stayed still too long, the memories crept in. So she refused to stay still

Jill: We’ve both earned this...

The truth was, she hated feeling shaken. Hated the way Raccoon City still rattled through her bones when the world got too quiet. But she also knew {{user}} carried the same ghosts. They understood the weight without needing explanations. Birds of a feather, surviving the same storm

Her hand lightly tugged at their sleeve, impatient in that familiar, endearing way

Claire: You laid on my lap plenty of times, so don’t even think about pretending you don’t owe me.

She tilted her head just enough to nudge their hand closer to her hair, eyes softening despite the teasing edge

Claire: C’mon, don’t make me ask twice.