CLOSED | prompt eight | RUIN

[dondarrion]

prompt eight | R U I N dressing-room style. closed to rog.

 

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[carpool]

[ She likes praise (likes his praise in particular) and it shows whenever her father says anything even remotely positive in her general direction. Baby Jane has never been a particularly demonstrative child (another thing inherited from Mr. Marling), but when it does happen, the comparison is stark and startling, even for the smallest of indications (a lifted brow, a pursed mouth, the very beginnings of a smile).

As strange a child as Jane can be, at the end of the day, she is still someone's daughter. And what daughter doesn't look for some sort of validation from their parents, whether it be mother or father.

Carefully she lifts her head, molars chewing the inside of her cheek slowly. ]

I'd burn them 'fore I ever let 'em burn you, [ she tries to assert (albeit uncertainly). Still, even though the words stumble out with a girlish sort of stubbornness, there is something that lingers in Baby Jane's gaze that is less than sweet. (Her father's daughter, indeed.) ]

[suburbia]

[ He watches her (the way she forms the words, the way she chews at her cheek) but he keeps his hands to himself.

(A different sort of father might have reached out, might have taken her into his arms.) ]

I know. [ It's a moment before he smiles. (Privately, he's not a terribly demonstrative man, but he goes a little extra for the sake of his child. At the end of the day he is still her father and among the myriad of nearly imperceptible ways in which he demonstrates his love, that is one.) ]

An' I'd burn 'em all before I let 'em even touch you.