fandomhighdorms | 3rd Floor CR, Sunday Evening

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3rd Floor CR, Sunday Evening

Claire decided that she was obviously delusional, homesick or both. Those were the only possible explanations for taking up the common room kitchen in an attempt to make a pot roast from her mother's recipe. Ruth's recipe wasn't entirely clear, and there were a couple of ingredients that either weren't available on this coast or were no longer made at all. The whole thing was giving her a migraine and she was remembering why she didn't cook.

Vegetables sliced and oven preheated, Claire stood on the counter, rooting through a cabinet for Lipton soup mix. She tried not to curse too loudly.

Momentarily forgotten, the TV blared a Z-Cases rerun.

[OOC: Open like a CR, yep.]

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"She's okay," Hurley said. "I usually end up eating out a lot, though."

He skimmed through some of the cupboards.

"I'm sure there's soup mix somewhere."

"Toss it here if you find it," Claire said absently. "That's cool, with the eating out. Mine freaks if I don't eat a home-cooked meal at least twice a day. And then she always gets weird about what I eat or don't eat."

A beat. "My mom's kind of old."

Edited 2008-10-20 01:56 (UTC)

"Oh, my mom totally freaks too. She... well, yeah, I mean, you can see why she think I should be eating better and stuff," he said.

He grinned. "Bingo." He pulled a box from a cabinet. "Onion soup mix."

"Favorite person," Claire said, reaching for the box. She wasn't going to comment on Hurley's weight, even if he did ask for it. "Wanna open an envelope and just dump it on top? Kinda sprinkle it around."

"I'm the baby," she added. "I guess that's why my mom gets kind of ..." She waved a hand vaguely. "Nuts. My brothers swear she wasn't quite as bad for them."

"Me too," Hurley said. "Though I only have one brother." He ripped open a packet of the soup mix and sprinkled it in. "Which is more than enough, cause he's an idiot."

"I have one who's kind of an idiot and one who's a funeral director," Claire said. "I mean, I guess they're both funeral directors now, but Nate only started last Christmas. How come yours is an idiot?"

"Diego has been arrested for public nudity," Hurley said. "I think that kinda speaks for itself."

"Dude," Claire exclaimed, trying not to giggle. "Was he doing something dirty or was he just randomly naked?"

"The way he told it, it was an accident," Hurley said. "I'm still not sure I believe him."

"What, like bam his clothes dissolved?"

"Like he was so drunk, he didn't notice," Hurley said. His expression was a bit disgusted.

"Ugh," Claire said. "I can kind of see how that would happen, but no one needs to be that drunk in public. Did your mom have to bail him out and everything?"

"My mom got so worked up, she made me go home," Hurley said. "This was about a month ago. But yeah, he got bailed out. Since, like, he's the man of the house, I guess."

"Harsh," Claire said. "So, what, were you supposed to lecture him or something?"

"I think I was mainly there so my mom could point at me, and shout at Diego about how he should be more responsible like me. And then she'd yell at me, that I should never do the things Diego does. Fun times," Hurley said.

"I can top it," Claire said sympathetically. "I had to go to Seattle last month because my brother Nate's brain was exploding -- he has this condition, he's fine, whatever -- and I had to help him drive a body from Seattle to L.A."

"Duuuuude," Hurley said. "I don't think I'd want to be able to top that. A body, seriously?"

"Yeah, it's part of the hole funeral director thing," Claire said, then backed up. "My family owns a funeral home. Dude died in Seattle and his family wouldn't fly his body." She shuddered. "It's not like he would care."

"Man," Hurley said. "So, like, you gonna end up in the funeral business, too?"

"I'd be my own first customer if I tried that," Claire said. "My dad left the business to my brothers, anyhow. Fisher and Sons, not Fisher and Children. I figure that means he wanted me out anyhow. I'm going to art school."

Which she wasn't nearly as confident about as she tried to sound.

"Art school, cool," Hurley said. "So your..." he trailed off. Not really nice to ask about if that meant her dad was dead. "I don't even think I'm gonna be able to go to college."

"How come?" Claire asked. "Money?"

It was probably a rude question, but she suspected Hurley wouldn't mind.

"Yeah," Hurley said. "I mean, half the reason I came here was so my mom could put aside a bit of money instead of having to pay to support me all the time. We're kinda... not poor? But we're not middle class, either."

Claire screwed up her face. "Funny," she said. "That boarding school was, like the cheap option."

"Dude, it was apparently ridiculously cheap to send me here," Hurley said. "I dunno if we got, like, aid or something, but... yeah." He shrugged. "Need any more help with the pot roast?"

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