[ The whole mess with Asav and the Tusk was less than a week ago and Chloe — along with Sam and Nadine — needed to haul ass to Delhi and wrangle a meeting with the Ministry of Culture before they could finally put that story to bed. (God, she could do with sleeping in her own bed. Not yet. Soon.) To say it's been hell and a half is an understatement. The reward from the Indian government almost made it worth it, and the personal cost had been... a beastly thing she hasn't even begun to unpack, even with all the alone time she's had with her thoughts since parting ways with the others.
(She'd tried to invite them back with her in some fit of courtesy or friendship or guilt. Hard to say what. It's as unlike her as it is like her, as she is now that the edges have been worn down. But Nadine had accounts to settle with her share and Sam — Sam's been weird since Nashik and had a gig with Sully lined up before they even booked their tickets. But that's fine. The invitation's an open one. And they all need their space after everything. She sure does.)
It's been a long road home. She'd blown a small fraction of her earnings on a business class seat and a slightly longer journey back; and while Chloe ordinarily doesn't mind travelling on the cheap and rough, the beating she'd taken on this particular go-around made economy on a budget — even if it meant a shorter, direct flight — an unpleasant prospect. Harry had questioned the choice when she texted her itinerary, but she'd downplayed her aches and pains and made a quip about free in-flight champagne to play it off. (And picked up a few goodies during her layover in Dubai to make it up to him.) Truth is, she's nursing some broken ribs and a concussion, and while a few days' respite before flying did some good, long-haul is rarely kind even when one is in the best of health. So she's tried to take it easy but God, she is so bloody tired and she couldn't get back fast enough.
Between the rides to and from the airport (the traffic in London and Delhi is a nightmare), and the time it takes to transit let alone fly, she's been travelling for over 15 hours before she finds herself back in Bermondsey after a month away on the job. It's a warm and humid morning by British standards, but it's pleasant after the sweltering Indian summer. Chloe suspects Harry might still be in bed so she doesn't bother calling to say she's on the way; instead, she takes a car back to their place. It's barely 9 when she lets herself into the loft, dropping her duffel onto the table in the gear room with a groan (she'll unpack later or tomorrow), before making her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Christ, she aches — everywhere. And she's getting hungry. Just past lunchtime in Delhi, maybe they'll order in. She chugs her drink and pours another before scrolling through the delivery app on her cracked phone screen, leaning against the kitchen island with a grimace, but then suddenly she's greeted by — not Harry, likely still asleep despite her quiet ruckus, but — the cat, yowling to announce his presence before weaving between her legs. ]
Jimbo, you needy bugger, [ she huffs, a fond smile tugging at her lips. Chloe sets down her phone, patting the stool next to her as if to say, hop up. ] Where'd you come from, hey? C'mere if you want attention, I can't bend over. [ The tuxie obliges, leaping up for scritches, purring up a storm. ] Where's Harry, then? Just us early birds, is it? Just as well. [ She reaches for her phone again, but Jimbo bumps her hand in protest. Despite herself, Chloe laughs, low and soft. ] Alright, alright. Missed you too.
✈️
(She'd tried to invite them back with her in some fit of courtesy or friendship or guilt. Hard to say what. It's as unlike her as it is like her, as she is now that the edges have been worn down. But Nadine had accounts to settle with her share and Sam — Sam's been weird since Nashik and had a gig with Sully lined up before they even booked their tickets. But that's fine. The invitation's an open one. And they all need their space after everything. She sure does.)
It's been a long road home. She'd blown a small fraction of her earnings on a business class seat and a slightly longer journey back; and while Chloe ordinarily doesn't mind travelling on the cheap and rough, the beating she'd taken on this particular go-around made economy on a budget — even if it meant a shorter, direct flight — an unpleasant prospect. Harry had questioned the choice when she texted her itinerary, but she'd downplayed her aches and pains and made a quip about free in-flight champagne to play it off. (And picked up a few goodies during her layover in Dubai to make it up to him.) Truth is, she's nursing some broken ribs and a concussion, and while a few days' respite before flying did some good, long-haul is rarely kind even when one is in the best of health. So she's tried to take it easy but God, she is so bloody tired and she couldn't get back fast enough.
Between the rides to and from the airport (the traffic in London and Delhi is a nightmare), and the time it takes to transit let alone fly, she's been travelling for over 15 hours before she finds herself back in Bermondsey after a month away on the job. It's a warm and humid morning by British standards, but it's pleasant after the sweltering Indian summer. Chloe suspects Harry might still be in bed so she doesn't bother calling to say she's on the way; instead, she takes a car back to their place. It's barely 9 when she lets herself into the loft, dropping her duffel onto the table in the gear room with a groan (she'll unpack later or tomorrow), before making her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Christ, she aches — everywhere. And she's getting hungry. Just past lunchtime in Delhi, maybe they'll order in. She chugs her drink and pours another before scrolling through the delivery app on her cracked phone screen, leaning against the kitchen island with a grimace, but then suddenly she's greeted by — not Harry, likely still asleep despite her quiet ruckus, but — the cat, yowling to announce his presence before weaving between her legs. ]
Jimbo, you needy bugger, [ she huffs, a fond smile tugging at her lips. Chloe sets down her phone, patting the stool next to her as if to say, hop up. ] Where'd you come from, hey? C'mere if you want attention, I can't bend over. [ The tuxie obliges, leaping up for scritches, purring up a storm. ] Where's Harry, then? Just us early birds, is it? Just as well. [ She reaches for her phone again, but Jimbo bumps her hand in protest. Despite herself, Chloe laughs, low and soft. ] Alright, alright. Missed you too.