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TARON HAS BEEN continually glancing at the cook's window, his eyes drawn to the small portion of Eleanor's torso that is visible from his angle. Even though it wasn't a mind-blowing act of bravery or even her own enlightenment toward the situation, Eleanor's courage has caught his attention.
Him, Robbie, and Ray were hopeless. They were in pain, they were tired, and unlike Eleanor, they were perfectly content with sitting in that diner 'til the world ended. But Eleanor, with just a few simple words, metaphorically smacked them back into reality and made them realize that there's no use in gazing dramatically out of the window and contemplating what could have been.
So, Taron continues to glance as he dries off his hair with one of the hand towels, holding an ice pack to his stomach. The three boys' layers of jackets are in a pile on the ground, including Robbie and Taron's t-shirts; Robbie wanted his warmed up for good measure and Taron.... Well, he wanted to inspect the bruises on his stomach and the fabric was a bit wet, but he also just wanted to take his shirt off.
In the short amount of time that has passed since Eleanor returned to the kitchen, she disassembled her lighter to let it dry, retrieved ingredients and utensils from around the room, lit the gas stove and a cigarette with a temporary replacement lighter that she found in a drawer, fashioned a sort of clothesline, and tied her hair up in a loose bun.
Her own jacket shed off, Eleanor sets her cigarette in a makeshift ashtray before walking through the double doors to retrieve the rest of the damp clothing. Taron looks away, for he was already looking in her direction and didn't want to be caught staring.
Eleanor looks at the three of them as she walks to the pile; Ray sitting on the top of the booth seats and icing his head, Robbie looking through the music in the jukebox and icing his arm, and Taron leaning against the counter, a bag of ice pressed to his torso.
Eleanor only briefly gazes at his bare skin as he runs his fingers through his hair before he looks up at her. He gives her a cheeky smirk and she rolls her eyes with a smile on her face, turning away from him and picking up the mound of damp clothes.
"Need a hand?" Taron asks.
"Yeah, sure," Eleanor replies, turning back toward him.
"Brilliant." He sets his ice pack on the counter and follows Eleanor to the back room. Robbie looks at the two of them before glancing at Ray, who is staring out of the window again, and then back at the walls with an amused snort.
Eleanor drops the clothing on the floor of the kitchen before wiping her hands on her pants and pulling at her sweater to dry it off. Taron sits on the counter next to the stove and picks up Eleanor's unfinished cigarette.
