apocalypsehowcomm

Entry tags:

► LOG

Who: addison montgomery + you
When: the rest of may
Where: a bar, the library
Summary: tdm prompts, getting her feet, losing her feet (alcohol)
Warnings: drunken disaster addie

► THE LIBRARY

Is this on yours too?

( she'd made them do a printout of the list, grabbing a pen from one of the desks and scribbling notes on it. it was weird, having a list that had her name attached to it but without any memory of having read any of the books. not that she'd had time to read a book lately, her last vacation had gotten sidetracked and well-- apparently she was now in gloucester.

so she was ignoring it, analysing lists and trying to do something that felt fine and normal when nothing really felt fine and normal. as if her life was normal anymore anyway )

I can't say I recognise the name... Which is weird, right? Reading a book you don't know you've read and probably haven't actually read? Right?

[ copied from her tdm ]

► A BAR

( she'd found a bar, she'd found wine. more than one glass if addison was counting (she wasn't). there had been some very nice men that had tried to explain this place to her, had been gentle about it but it was hard to accept. they'd seemed nice, believable and something had wanted to believe them. but she couldn't.

it didn't help that even before coming here her head had been reeling, that her emotions had been blown up and focusing on anything else when there were answers that she needed was hard. answers that she couldn't get. her brother was sick, her could die and... she could do nothing.

so wine had been the good answer. wine had been the only answer. lots of wine was the answer because addison really didn't want to be able to think of anything )

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Good.

( that slightly more defensive edge that had appeared isn't yet dropping but she's happy enough for him to stay. she's getting drunk (she is drunk) and the company is nice )

Now why don't you tell me something about where you're from. Specifically.

( and she's really only hoping for a where )

NorCal. Kinda...all up and down the place, I guess, followin' the work. Migrant farm work and ranches, mostly. Big country. Mountains always off in the distance. Prob'ly look closer than they is.

[He places his order for the gin when the waitress comes around and stays quiet while she takes care of her, too. For now, he just holds his empty glass and turns it a little, contemplative.]

You? Name's George, by the by.

Addison.

( she stays with her wine, ordering another glass of it )

I'm from Connecticut but I've moved around. I'm living in LA now.

Been to LA a couple times. Never stuck around long. Too loud and expensive.

[Bread lines all around the blocks for a long time, and even though the worst of that is past, he'll always mistrust big cities to some extent.]

Sacramento ain't too bad. Last place I hit was Soledad.

[The place name tastes bad on his tongue, like gin and ash, and he'd love it if the waitress would come back with his drink.]

What'd you do in LA?

I'm a surgeon, I run a practice.

( and her trade was at least something she could do anywhere.

she also had money so the expensive part in la didn't matter to her )

Moving there was good for me.

That's a mighty impressive skill.

[Makes him feel more than a little awkward sitting there now, intensely aware that he's usually the kind of person doctors and the like pass by on the street quick as they can without a second glance.

Maybe tossing a coin like that asshole Owen.]

Glad it worked out for you.

[Thank God, the gin. He takes the glass and sits back to let her remove the empty. He drains half of it before reminding himself he's the sober one tonight and setting it down and a little to the side.]

I didn't know if it would. I had friends there so I went, not for the reason I stayed for but... it was good. I'm glad I tried.

( she wasn't running away but picking up and walking, trying something for herself that wasn't surrounded in tragedy or mess and conflicted feelings )

Fresh starts can be nice. Somewhere no one really knows you.

It was a little like that all the time with my line a' work. Get to know the fellas, bunk with 'em for a season, and some you'd see again, but some you never did.

[Can he say it's better here where no one knows him? Yes and no, not for reasons he'd expect most to understand.]

Sounds like you're good at landing on your feet. Ain't never a bad skill.

It's not a skill I wish I had.

( she'd only had to learn it from the pain in her life. and who really wants to have that with them? )

I'd like to be settled somewhere, to have something easier.

You and everybody I ever met.

[Himself included. He takes another more measured sip of the gin, kind of wishing he didn't have to, but he traveled with Lennie too long for some behaviors not to just be a second skin.]

Some people manage to have it, to make it work and last. It means it's possible.

( but addie's too doubtful, has screwed up too many times in her life to fully believe in nice things. she always ends up looking for the bad that will happen to try and protect herself )

Right?

Yeah, some.

[He feels unease under his skin, juddering his knee in a silent bounce under the table. He's not completely sure what she's asking him. His idea of making it work was never more than a stake and somewhere Lennie could be safe. He doubts they look toward some future dream and see the same sorts of things.

He polishes off the glass.]

( she sighs, ordering another drink, though as much as 'get so drunk and remember none of this' was her goal there's something more half-hearted about this order )

What are we even doing here? If they just wanted our skills... hiring someone would be easier.

( and less confusing )

They don't know why we're here.

[He has come to believe this. Too much of it wouldn't make sense if they did. He twists his empty glass, staring down into the depths and how it distorts the wood grain at the thicker base.]

I think they's...keepin' us around in one place because 'a that.

[He lifts blue eyes briefly, a quick, keen look.]

An' paying and training us, because otherwise...that's jes' kidnappin', right?

We can leave. You got anywhere to go that makes sense to you here? I sure don't.

None of it makes sense, nothing.

( she's a little louder than intended, bringing a hand to her mouth to try and reign herself in. it's hard, not thinking clearly, and she has a habit of letting her emotional words get the best of her on a good day )

Paying us doesn't make it better. Bribery at its best.

( still kidnapping in some way at its worst. because she hasn't really thought of the worst )

Better 'n starving.

[He would know. He signals for another drink.]

How do you know that it'll work? That working for them is an okay option?

( that there isn't something else and still an option to get food )

I know I ain't gone hungry since I got here. Ain't nobody stole my wages or done me dirty. People here have taught me how to use these phone things and them computers. Not that I like 'em much. If I'd jes' walked right outta Soledad into this without all that help? I reckon I might already be dead in a ditch somewhere, or wishin' I was.

[He's too practical to be able to play a good game of what if. Hasn't ever had enough to be able to afford it.]

( that's the big thing that addison always seems to miss: she can be a bit of an asshole when it comes to how you see the world. she's always had money, had opportunities and capabilities of doing anything. it means she misses a lot, sees things through her clouded picture and forgets that not everything is the same.

questions are a luxury, doubt is a luxury. and what is it she's even looking for? )

One good experience with a few good people... doesn't stop the world from still being pretty fucked up.

( and she doesn't even believe the avatars side of this )

And there are good people here, that's true. But it's not the good people you have to worry about.

You really think you gotta tell me that, Lady?

[Yeah, he just...can't with this.]

I seen what happened in '29. I seen them fellas what came back from Cantigny. Belleau Wood. The ones what still had their faces, and some a' the ones what didn't. I seen men gut stabbed for a crust a' bread and no other reason the other fella's so outta his head with hunger he don't even know his own self no more.

[He rises abruptly, his chair scraping.]

You got somewhere better to be or softer to land, then carry yourself there, and more power to you. I'll take what I got and be glad I got it, even if it means the whole damned world's about to end and I got a front row seat.

[He marches over to the bar to settle his tab, mad at himself for losing his temper and mad at her for refusing to get it.]

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► LOG

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