Credence hasn't had a room this big before. He hasn't had a bed this fitting, too--this one is large enough that his feet don't dip over, and sometimes when he's trying to go to sleep, he likes wiggling his toes and hitting mattress instead of cold air. It makes him smile against his pillows, like it's something forbidden.
When he was younger, he used to have nightmares that monsters that killed his real parents were under the bed, waiting to snatch a bare ankle and pull. It didn't help that Mary Lou was insistent on having him sleep as little as possible. If he has time to sleep, he has time to work.
But here, with the kindness of everyone and the strange welcoming, this place is really starting to feel, more and more, like a second chance. Like purgatory, but something above that.
Home.
The weather is dreadful, snowing and nonstop, and while Credence doesn't mind it after a while of bustling around the inn and fixing a window as best as he can, eventually he feels like the cold seeps into him, nestling right in his bones. He politely asks permission to take a nap, even though he already knows the answer is yes, and slips off to do just that.
The door startles him out of his pleasant slumber--the kind of jolting awake that happens when you dream you're falling and hit the ground--and there's a small gasp behind the door. Credence takes a brief moment, still in his working clothes, to hastily smooth down cow licked hair. He's in the middle of doing so when he opens the door, barefoot and frantically pressing the heel of his hand down his bangs, a slump of hair on the right side of his face sticking straight out. He'll get there.
"I'm sorry, miss, I didn't think I slept that long, I'll be down in--Oh."
It's not an unpleasant oh, though, seeing this stranger who looks more like a marshmallow than anything else at the moment. He's burrowed in such a curious, strange way that Credence steps to the side and automatically lets him in, alert and ready to listen.
There's not much in his room, of course, but what is there is neat and tidy, cleaned and recleaned whenever Credence gets nervous, which is often.
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When he was younger, he used to have nightmares that monsters that killed his real parents were under the bed, waiting to snatch a bare ankle and pull. It didn't help that Mary Lou was insistent on having him sleep as little as possible. If he has time to sleep, he has time to work.
But here, with the kindness of everyone and the strange welcoming, this place is really starting to feel, more and more, like a second chance. Like purgatory, but something above that.
Home.
The weather is dreadful, snowing and nonstop, and while Credence doesn't mind it after a while of bustling around the inn and fixing a window as best as he can, eventually he feels like the cold seeps into him, nestling right in his bones. He politely asks permission to take a nap, even though he already knows the answer is yes, and slips off to do just that.
The door startles him out of his pleasant slumber--the kind of jolting awake that happens when you dream you're falling and hit the ground--and there's a small gasp behind the door. Credence takes a brief moment, still in his working clothes, to hastily smooth down cow licked hair. He's in the middle of doing so when he opens the door, barefoot and frantically pressing the heel of his hand down his bangs, a slump of hair on the right side of his face sticking straight out. He'll get there.
"I'm sorry, miss, I didn't think I slept that long, I'll be down in--Oh."
It's not an unpleasant oh, though, seeing this stranger who looks more like a marshmallow than anything else at the moment. He's burrowed in such a curious, strange way that Credence steps to the side and automatically lets him in, alert and ready to listen.
There's not much in his room, of course, but what is there is neat and tidy, cleaned and recleaned whenever Credence gets nervous, which is often.