[ Eddie likes these paramedics. She can't help crowing with laughter as they tease Tommy, her eyes crinkling shut and her mouth wide, and even them turning to admonish her doesn't dim her mirth much. ]
Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.
[ She'd have to, spending all her time with Stevie. If there's one thing you learn, being friends with Stevie Harrington, it's how to handle concussion symptoms. And also haircare. So two things.
Eddie yanks Chrissy's scrunchie out of her hair and reties the whole wet mess into another knot, hopelessly tangling her curls in a way that will probably get her yelled at later but at least keeps them from dripping down her neck in a way she hates. It also keeps her busy so she's not too obviously checking Tommy out while he gets redressed into something dry. She can't help smirk at the sight of her band name stretched out across his shoulders, though. The shirt's a little small on him and she is not complaining.
He holds the tent flap open for her and she ducks through it, stretching her back out once she's standing in the cooler night air, taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly. Indiana is a shithole, but sometimes the weather is pretty good, and she's always loved the smell of the air after it rains.
Tommy's face is lit up with the blue glow of his phone, and she half wants to ask what the message was, but it's none of her business. ]
Yeah, maybe. Think I'm still a little too wired for sleep, though. [ She pulls at the hem of her shirt, grimacing a little as it sticks to her skin — maybe she should have asked the medics for a shirt, too — as they start to walk back. ] Think I'm gonna go back to my room and light up, since I'm not allowed alcohol tonight. [ The paramedic hadn't said that, but Eddie knows what she can and can't do while monitoring a concussion. ] You're, uh. You're welcome to come with, if you like. If you got nowhere to be.
no subject
Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.
[ She'd have to, spending all her time with Stevie. If there's one thing you learn, being friends with Stevie Harrington, it's how to handle concussion symptoms. And also haircare. So two things.
Eddie yanks Chrissy's scrunchie out of her hair and reties the whole wet mess into another knot, hopelessly tangling her curls in a way that will probably get her yelled at later but at least keeps them from dripping down her neck in a way she hates. It also keeps her busy so she's not too obviously checking Tommy out while he gets redressed into something dry. She can't help smirk at the sight of her band name stretched out across his shoulders, though. The shirt's a little small on him and she is not complaining.
He holds the tent flap open for her and she ducks through it, stretching her back out once she's standing in the cooler night air, taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly. Indiana is a shithole, but sometimes the weather is pretty good, and she's always loved the smell of the air after it rains.
Tommy's face is lit up with the blue glow of his phone, and she half wants to ask what the message was, but it's none of her business. ]
Yeah, maybe. Think I'm still a little too wired for sleep, though. [ She pulls at the hem of her shirt, grimacing a little as it sticks to her skin — maybe she should have asked the medics for a shirt, too — as they start to walk back. ] Think I'm gonna go back to my room and light up, since I'm not allowed alcohol tonight. [ The paramedic hadn't said that, but Eddie knows what she can and can't do while monitoring a concussion. ] You're, uh. You're welcome to come with, if you like. If you got nowhere to be.