NickNacks
Zoinks
The closer Jim Hopper got to the time he had schedules, the more apprehensive he became-not because of the people they were going to see, but because of what might happen along the way. For the most part, El's presence in his home had gone along smoothly aside from his own rusty (to put it very lightly) parental skills. There had been no agents knocking down his door in the middle of the night, no huge catastrophe or aliens or anything of the sort. But strangely, the inactivity only seemed to make him more nervous. It was like the eye of the storm, and any moment, some huge event would trigger some insane adventure, like the one that had occurred just last year.
He had cleaned himself up at least enough to appear presentable, switching out his shirt for one that didn't bear any stains. Still, his brow furrowed as he regarded himself in the mirror. He looked older, though he guessed anyone would at his age. He reached up to scratch his beard briefly before turning from his reflection to the other occupant of his home. El had adjusted well to living with him, which he was glad about even if he was sure she didn't find him all that interesting to hang out with. It was hard to suppress the guilt that arose whenever he glanced at her face. She ought to be with kids her own age, going to school, not holed up in the woods with a policeman incapable of cooking much beyond the realm of frozen dinners.
"You ready to go?" He asked, lightly jerking his head towards the door. Apparently there was some kind of game night happening with the boys at Joyce's place, and El had been invited. He wasn't too sure what he was going to do with himself once he was there. The only other adult in the house was Joyce, and Hopper was never sure if he was making things awkward or difficult by being there. Joyce had been through a parents' worst nightmare that previous year, and it didn't even seem to be over yet, and Will was still having difficulties recuperating from all he had gone through. The whole situation still filled Jim with a sense of frustration at his own inability to do very much to help her, even if he had tried. Why was it that the best people always went through the worst shit?
The beat-up police van coughed and sputtered as he turned the ignition. Though he'd had it for years and it had its own share of problems, Jim was confident in the vehicles steadfast nature, and gave the steering wheel a firm pat as he began the short drive to the Byer's household. "You remember we leave right at eight, okay? And keep your head down on the drive home." His voice was gruff and a little awkward, and he cleared his throat between scentences. Eventually, he pulled up beside the house-for a moment he considered flashing his lights to mess with the kids, but decided it would draw far too much attention. He knocked firmly on the door once the two stood on the front porch, already glancing about for any strange onlookers.
He had cleaned himself up at least enough to appear presentable, switching out his shirt for one that didn't bear any stains. Still, his brow furrowed as he regarded himself in the mirror. He looked older, though he guessed anyone would at his age. He reached up to scratch his beard briefly before turning from his reflection to the other occupant of his home. El had adjusted well to living with him, which he was glad about even if he was sure she didn't find him all that interesting to hang out with. It was hard to suppress the guilt that arose whenever he glanced at her face. She ought to be with kids her own age, going to school, not holed up in the woods with a policeman incapable of cooking much beyond the realm of frozen dinners.
"You ready to go?" He asked, lightly jerking his head towards the door. Apparently there was some kind of game night happening with the boys at Joyce's place, and El had been invited. He wasn't too sure what he was going to do with himself once he was there. The only other adult in the house was Joyce, and Hopper was never sure if he was making things awkward or difficult by being there. Joyce had been through a parents' worst nightmare that previous year, and it didn't even seem to be over yet, and Will was still having difficulties recuperating from all he had gone through. The whole situation still filled Jim with a sense of frustration at his own inability to do very much to help her, even if he had tried. Why was it that the best people always went through the worst shit?
The beat-up police van coughed and sputtered as he turned the ignition. Though he'd had it for years and it had its own share of problems, Jim was confident in the vehicles steadfast nature, and gave the steering wheel a firm pat as he began the short drive to the Byer's household. "You remember we leave right at eight, okay? And keep your head down on the drive home." His voice was gruff and a little awkward, and he cleared his throat between scentences. Eventually, he pulled up beside the house-for a moment he considered flashing his lights to mess with the kids, but decided it would draw far too much attention. He knocked firmly on the door once the two stood on the front porch, already glancing about for any strange onlookers.