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[hope-zhang]

//int. rosie's diner - morning. 26th april. @beauclary

Hope and Dante had already come to a mutual understanding before they arrived at the building that they had people they needed to see before regrouping to understand what the fuck was going on in this building, Santi telling them of who was still there, still alive. And all of a sudden, Hope knew this was where she should be.

The last two days of isolation hasn't been too bad, considering how long she locked herself in that greenhouse, this was paradise; clean water, something to eat, a bed to lie in, a roof over their heads, walls to keep them safe. She spent it acclimatizing back to certain creature comforts they haven't had in months. Even her plants were happy, there was a visible shift in their mood being able to be static for once, maybe even actually sink their roots somewhere. But most importantly she had been brimming with excitement.

Once the initial interviews and tests were done, her smile was brimming once she was left alone in quarantine, rummaging for a separate container for a very specific plant she has saved for a very specific person. Sure, it once might’ve been just symbolism to mourn and she might’ve just named it Beau to get her through the roughest patches of loneliness, and she might've talked to it at night alone to not go insane. But now it felt like it was all worth it for even trying to save a small cutting of the red buckeye from the botanic garden and lugging it around this whole time.

The moment she was let out, similar to Dante, she had an immediate goal - annoy the shit out of her college bestie. With an small army of seedlings and plants in her arms, she was off looking for that football dork of a man, a betrayal of their degree as she'd like to joke. The moment she spotted him in the diner for morning rations, she carefully placed down her plant babies on a booth table, and landed the sneaky assault, full on tackling into Beau from behind with all her might, voice giggling with a dramatic mocking swoon like of one of those annoying fans he had, "oh my god, is that football star, the Beau Clary??? I've been dying to meet you, can you sign my arm?"

Her small framed tackle obviously had zero strength to actually throw off the bulkier taller man, but her arms held on and squeezed tight around his torso before letting him go and stepping back so that he could face her wide grin. She wasn't much of a crier but her gaze had been watery to see him again now that she could look up and actually see his face. She did a little hop and jump to be able to throw her arms over his shoulders, murmuring into the hug, "missed you beau-y, you big doofus, literally thought you died flinging footballs at these chompers."