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Lori opens sleep-blurred eyes to the sound of rain pelting against her windows and a gentle, rhythmic knocking against her front door. The television spits static, the signal disturbed by the storm raging outside, and the numbers on her alarm clock are squiggles of red in the still-dark room.
By the time she's made it to the door she's a little closer to being awake and when she looks through the peephole before opening it she's instantly there. She pulls the door open quickly, concern reflected on her face as she takes in the soaking wet woman standing on her doorstep.
Water drips off Shirley's expensive black coat, forming wet-dark patterns on the carpeted floor, but Lori ushers her inside without a second thought. Why Shirley is on her doorstep in the early hours of the morning, she doesn't know; it isn't exactly normal for her.
"You must be freezing," she says in concern, postponing the questions that have instantly leapt to mind as she closes the door behind her. "Take off your coat while I get you a blanket, you'll catch cold if you aren't careful."
She retrieves a warm blanket from her bedroom to exchange for the coat, which she hangs above a radiator to dry while Shirley watches her silently; pulling the blanket tightly around herself. A silent Shirley isn't always necessarily a bad thing, but Lori can't read her at all right now, and that bothers her.
"Do you want some coffee?" she asks, deciding coffee is exactly what her brain needs if she's going to have to deal with... whatever it is that's brought Shirley here.
"I woke you up, didn't I?" Shirley says quietly, fingers tightening on the edges of the blanket. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise how early it is."
"I was half-awake anyway," Lori lies. "I'll make some coffee and we can talk."
Shirley looks like she's about to leave but then she nods, acquiescing, following Lori through into the kitchen. She stares out of the window, fingertips peeking out of the blanket to trace the patterns the rain makes against the glass. She's caught up in the repetitive movement and doesn't stop until Lori gently touches her arm, getting her attention to hand her a cup.
"You want to tell me what's wrong?" Lori asks softly, leaning against the kitchen table and taking a sip of her drink, hoping the caffeine will hit her system soon. She's rarely seen Shirley like this -- quiet and introspective, almost unsure of herself -- and she doesn't like seeing it now, especially since she's not sure how best to deal with it.
"I came here because I thought I needed to tell you something," Shirley says eventually. "But I'm not really sure if I should."
"Now I'm worried," Lori says, trying to make a joke of it and failing miserably.
She is worried. Shirley's making whatever secret she has sound ominous and Lori can't even begin to guess at what it is. She's tired and it's far too early and she's still struggling to process the fact that she's actually awake and having a conversation. She wants Shirley to just... tell her, instead of acting in a way that's so totally unlike herself.
"You don't need to worry," Shirley says, forcing a smile that doesn't reassure Lori at all.
Lori bites back her instinctive response and sits quietly, patiently, waiting as always for Shirley to lead the conversation. Their friendship is sometimes unbalanced; Lori can't and won't force Shirley to tell her anything she isn't ready to share even if, in the past, Shirley hasn't afforded her the same courtesy.
Instead of saying anything, she chooses to watch the rain form new patterns against the windows as she thinks longingly of the sleep she'd been enjoying a mere half an hour earlier.
She sips at her coffee and waits for Shirley to speak.