(Resident Evil) Cleve/Burnfield one-shots

Bow, Backstep and Twirl

The plane was completely silent, all except for the chain of frustrated groans of Steve Burnside as he tried to turn the plane on; trying furiously to floor the rudder pedal, only for the plane to be silent as it, well, doesn't turn on at all, makes no notion to move. ' Nada', Steve thinks, now glaring at the keyhole on the control panel, the thin red circle around the keyhole only serving to taunt him, he could almost hear it laughing at him, almost saying 'You're not done yet!'

"Seriously?!" he bellowed, getting up and making a move to kick the seat out of sheer frustration; searing pain that this caused him be damned!

This outburst caused Claire Redfield to snap her head to look at the ginger boy, to which he put his hands up and sat on the instrument panel, shifting uncomfortably to not sit too close to the flight controls, and muttering a brisk "Sorry."

Claire's head tilted subtly, starting to look at Steve, her eyes softening at the sight of him, now resting his arm at his knee, she noticed his hands rub at his left eye, occasionally blinking his restlessness away, as he's not slept in a while -- well, not a proper sleep -- Steve's ginger hair stuck to his sleepless face from earlier exhausts of fighting the undead, oh, and his dad, too; That must be the weirdest way for your dream girl to meet your dad, him being a zombie and trying to tear her larynx out.

At least I'm getting out of here alive . Steve thought bitterly, he hoped his dad would be happy with him keeping his memory alive, after he escapes from Rockfort.

"Well, this plane was a fuckin' bust." He breathed, and it was only now that Claire noticed that his breathing was more noticeably heavy, his entire body subtly heaving, each breath more labored than his last. He kept his gaze on her, but it was much softer than she was used to from him.

"Yeah, no kidding.." Claire murmured breathlessly, feeling those breaths subtly quicken like her heartbeat, her own gaze keeping close to him, but never quite making eye contact, she didn't like keeping eye contact.

The auburn-haired woman glanced at the Ashford manor from the large window next to the cockpit, her blue eyes narrowed while she tried to visualize the floor and overall structure of the manor and prison; the floors, ceilings, it's strange golden yellow lighting -- which honestly gave her a headache, she hated yellow lights --.

Upon staring at the structure and build of the place, Claire bit her bottom lip, eyes rapidly shifting glance as she tried to think.

"Say," she turns back to face Steve, seeing that he almost jumped, racing to meet her gaze, freezing; no longer fidgeting with the hem of his prisoner jacket, the dull navy-coloured fabric being caught between his pointer and ring

fingers, and staying that way. Claire noticed his gaze as he examined her face, a mannerism that she'd steadily started to notice a lot more, but dared not to comment on; she thought it was cute, him trying to be subtle.

Claire briefly smiles, savoring the slow flood of confusion on his then almost stoic face, before continuing.

"I see this big rectangle window, Did we explore that room? It might have that key you've been looking at!" she suggests, blinking at him when she sees him make rapid eye movement, thinking.

"Good idea, yeah" Steve nods, his narrowed eyes looking up to his right as he speaks, as if he was trying to remember the room. By the time he looked back at her, she was already climbing out of the cockpit, auburn hair almost ethereally falling, even if it was in a low ponytail.

Steve almost had to catch his breath, looking at her, before calling out,

"Hey, wa-wait up!"

Now, the two wait in a large dining room area, only illuminated by uncomfortably bright light emanating from the chandelier, as it casts a warm, but lonely golden yellow light around the room. The warmth of the room heavily contrasts the cold dimness of the rainy outside.