rootaccess | FOR: OUTOFCONTROL

Darlene could have waited around for Elliot to actually arrive back at his apartment, in the way that a normal sibling would have. She could have even shot off a text to the other to at least warn him that she was coming by, but that was another thing that a normal sister would have done and Darlene had long since proved that she was nothing that could have been considered a ‘normal sister’. But, when it all came down to it, were the Aldersons really a normal family to begin with? No, they hadn’t been for as long as Darlene could remember and they probably wouldn’t ever be again. Not with how much had gone on over the course of the years; the cold and uncaring attitude of their mother, the untimely and sudden death of their father, the slow deteriorating of Elliot’s sanity and eventual forgetting of… everything.

Normalcy was long gone, she’d come to terms with that.

So, what did Darlene the not-so-normal-sister decide to do instead of alerting her brother to her sudden arrival? Break in to his place, of course. Wasn’t that what any good sibling did when they wanted to order pizza, get high and watch cheap horror flicks? What she hadn’t been expecting when she’d finally managed to jimmy the lock open (a new one that Elliot had installed, probably in hopes that it would prevent her from doing exactly what she was doing at the moment.) was to see someone already sitting in her spot on the couch.

Was she in the wrong building?
Was she on the wrong floor?
Had she just broken into the entirely wrong apartment?

No. It couldn’t be. It looked just the right amount of shitty apartment to belong to none other than Elliot Alderson. But the guy that was on the couch… was not the wide-eyed, shifty figure of her brother.

“Uh. Okay... Who the hell are you?” She questioned, kicking the door closed with her foot, a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses pushed up onto the top of her head so that she could look at this mystery person without the dark tint of her lenses obscuring her vision.

Threaded | Flat

John's time with Elliot had actually gone a long way to calming the jittery nerves he'd cultivated living on the street, even with such a nervous man to call his roommate. He no longer had to worry about police, strung-out junkies who thought he might have a dollar or two on him, plain old mutant haters who could catch him playing with fire (literally) or using it to keep himself alive during the colder months and decide to take out their ignorance on a goddamn kid - there was now a door between him and all of that shit, and it eased his mind more than he could've imagined. Combine that with somewhere soft and warm to sleep, a roof over his head, and usually at least two meals a day, and he was feeling good.

Then some asshole started jimmying the door open and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Correction: some bitch. He'd been sitting with Flipper on his lap when the noise started and now had her clutched protectively to his chest, his own eyes fairly massive and wild at the intrusion, but never a match for Elliot's. At her flat question, he set Flipper down on the couch, then gestured at the stranger in disbelief.

"You - just broke into the fucking apartment," he sputtered, arms out at his sides. "Who are you?"

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