Theresa "Tess" Servopoulos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dog_eat_dog) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2014-05-16 12:56 am
dog_eat_dog) wrote in paradisalogs2014-05-16 12:56 am
Entry tags:
EIGHTEENTH SHOT
Who: Tess and whoever :')
What: Smoking. And sulking.
When: Todayish.
Where: The Grand Hall.
Rating: PG.
Tess is used to doing things without Joel. Despite being partners in the post-apocalyptic sense, they’ve usually kept separate apartments, separate spaces –– God knew the two of them spent so much time stressed out that living together in Boston would have driven them to tearing each other apart. Well before the government connected their criminal identities to their personal ones, at that.
And in that sense, it isn’t too unusual to spend a week more or less alone, sleeping late and going about her business alone, catching up with contacts and connections alone… Joel never liked that part, and was never good at it the way she was. Joel never had her ambition, the kind that made her content to just work and work and work. Joel wanted to be an old man and stew in the past constantly, and she never let him do much of that.
In Paradisa, things had been different. They’d still spent a fair time alone, but without stress around every corner, it had been easier to spend a lot of time together. They could talk a little more openly, they could indulge in things neither thought they’d ever see again, they could play at domestics and pretend they weren’t people who didn’t flinch before breaking a bone or putting a bullet in someone’s skull. They could be decent people, even if they were always going to be short on friends. It was a good space for Tess, both physically and spiritually, and in that space, a little bit of something could flourish even where they’d both deliberately drowned each other for years.
In Paradisa, she’d thought that maybe someday she could love him. Give it enough time and she could be normal enough to feel things like that, love a man as well as live with him and work with him and raise adopted kids with him. She could grow a bit of humanity, she was sure of it. She still had it in her. Someday she’d get to the point where she could put that much stock in someone else and trust they wouldn’t be gone by next week, taking that bit of her with them.
But whatever feelings she’d allowed herself to grow towards Joel are gone now, gone with him. For now, she just feels a little empty, maybe even a little sore that she’d given into that kind of vice yet again. After all these years, she doesn’t know if she has it in her to spare any love for whatever comes next.
Or whatever is already here, frankly. Joel’s left behind two kids now, even if only one was ever properly his. What is she supposed to do with a couple of teenage girls? She can’t leave them, she knows better than that, but who can say if they’ll even want to stick around her?
Either way, she’ll do what she always does: soldier on.
-x-
Tess remembers a time where smokers had to stay ten feet away from any public doorway, and then she remembers a time where cigarettes became such a luxury that smoking laws stopped being relevant. She always feels old when she thinks about law and government and enforcement, largely because it means she’s old enough to remember when things were very different.
And then timeless as always, Paradisa has no laws.
Tess brings her cigarette to her lips, takes a drag, and then exhales, letting the smoke trail from her mouth lazily. The Grand Hall is lovely as always, and Tess feels even more out of place than usual with not only her cigarette but also her slightly-too-tight jeans and t-shirt. Forty years old and in a hoodie, with her hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and her practical hiking boots dutifully laced on in case of emergency –– she’s pretty sure that even after almost eight months here, she still looks like some sort of white trash drug addict in most people’s eyes, but if she’s being realistic, no amount of time will fade all her scars and she was never going to start wearing white collared shirts or tailored pants. That just isn’t her.
Whoever she is in a place like this, anyway.
Tess takes another drag, sinking a little lower in her seat, and then she taps off the ashes onto a teacup saucer. The journal sits closed at arm’s length, on top of a bookmarked novel. Her cellphone is there, too, largely useless considering her diminishing contacts list. Tess casts it an almost disdainful look before looking down at the cigarette between her fingers.
She’s so listless that she can’t compel herself to do anything, and yet so starved for company that she’s smoking in the fucking dining room.
“Christ,” she grumbles to herself.
What: Smoking. And sulking.
When: Todayish.
Where: The Grand Hall.
Rating: PG.
Tess is used to doing things without Joel. Despite being partners in the post-apocalyptic sense, they’ve usually kept separate apartments, separate spaces –– God knew the two of them spent so much time stressed out that living together in Boston would have driven them to tearing each other apart. Well before the government connected their criminal identities to their personal ones, at that.
And in that sense, it isn’t too unusual to spend a week more or less alone, sleeping late and going about her business alone, catching up with contacts and connections alone… Joel never liked that part, and was never good at it the way she was. Joel never had her ambition, the kind that made her content to just work and work and work. Joel wanted to be an old man and stew in the past constantly, and she never let him do much of that.
In Paradisa, things had been different. They’d still spent a fair time alone, but without stress around every corner, it had been easier to spend a lot of time together. They could talk a little more openly, they could indulge in things neither thought they’d ever see again, they could play at domestics and pretend they weren’t people who didn’t flinch before breaking a bone or putting a bullet in someone’s skull. They could be decent people, even if they were always going to be short on friends. It was a good space for Tess, both physically and spiritually, and in that space, a little bit of something could flourish even where they’d both deliberately drowned each other for years.
In Paradisa, she’d thought that maybe someday she could love him. Give it enough time and she could be normal enough to feel things like that, love a man as well as live with him and work with him and raise adopted kids with him. She could grow a bit of humanity, she was sure of it. She still had it in her. Someday she’d get to the point where she could put that much stock in someone else and trust they wouldn’t be gone by next week, taking that bit of her with them.
But whatever feelings she’d allowed herself to grow towards Joel are gone now, gone with him. For now, she just feels a little empty, maybe even a little sore that she’d given into that kind of vice yet again. After all these years, she doesn’t know if she has it in her to spare any love for whatever comes next.
Or whatever is already here, frankly. Joel’s left behind two kids now, even if only one was ever properly his. What is she supposed to do with a couple of teenage girls? She can’t leave them, she knows better than that, but who can say if they’ll even want to stick around her?
Either way, she’ll do what she always does: soldier on.
-x-
Tess remembers a time where smokers had to stay ten feet away from any public doorway, and then she remembers a time where cigarettes became such a luxury that smoking laws stopped being relevant. She always feels old when she thinks about law and government and enforcement, largely because it means she’s old enough to remember when things were very different.
And then timeless as always, Paradisa has no laws.
Tess brings her cigarette to her lips, takes a drag, and then exhales, letting the smoke trail from her mouth lazily. The Grand Hall is lovely as always, and Tess feels even more out of place than usual with not only her cigarette but also her slightly-too-tight jeans and t-shirt. Forty years old and in a hoodie, with her hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and her practical hiking boots dutifully laced on in case of emergency –– she’s pretty sure that even after almost eight months here, she still looks like some sort of white trash drug addict in most people’s eyes, but if she’s being realistic, no amount of time will fade all her scars and she was never going to start wearing white collared shirts or tailored pants. That just isn’t her.
Whoever she is in a place like this, anyway.
Tess takes another drag, sinking a little lower in her seat, and then she taps off the ashes onto a teacup saucer. The journal sits closed at arm’s length, on top of a bookmarked novel. Her cellphone is there, too, largely useless considering her diminishing contacts list. Tess casts it an almost disdainful look before looking down at the cigarette between her fingers.
She’s so listless that she can’t compel herself to do anything, and yet so starved for company that she’s smoking in the fucking dining room.
“Christ,” she grumbles to herself.
no subject
"I do checkups on people pretty often, yeah," she admitted. "Just to see if their rooms are still here. And, well, Joel managed to evade me for weeks once when he was hurt, and I didn't want something like that to happen again."
no subject
"Well, I guess I'm flattered that you're checking up on us because you care, not because you're looking for a way out," Tess replies. Another pause. "Thanks."
Not that it does much to prevent a loss, but in a world where even winning comes at some kind of price, you learn to take the losses in stride. Otherwise, you'd just end up burning out hard.
And then, a whole lot less amused:
"I'm not sure why I expected things to turn out differently this time."
no subject
Jennifer looked back up at Tess.
"You're welcome," she said sincerely. "Regardless of what goes on here... I still meant what I said about how I'd never turn you away for medical attention." That seemed important to say at this moment, though she wasn't sure it mattered to Tess at all. "For whatever reason, you trust me. And if I were to ignore you, or turn you away, or not even try to offer my help... that wouldn't sit well with me."
In response to Tess' second statement, she shrugged.
"Because this place is a second chance for a lot of people. Sometimes it does pan out for the better. Sometimes it doesn't. Not like life outside Paradisa is really any different in that respect..." Another beer empty, and a third one wished up. "You were given peace here. It's natural to hope on some level it might work out, even if the rest of you is just waiting for it to be over."
no subject
Tess pauses, beer in one hand so she can reach up to her own face with the other. She drags the heel of her hand against her eye as if she's dislodged an eyelash or something, and she certainly doesn't acknowledge just how glassy her eyes are nor acknowledge in any way that she's tearing up –– she just passes it off as nothing, her voice level, her posture as unfriendly as always.
"I don't even need to wait for it, it's already over."
no subject
This was a Tess she could relate to.
Jennifer wished she could see it more often. Maybe then the two of them could try and understand each other. Help each other. Be something more than the weird doctor-patient, pseudo hostage-captor situation they had right now, where Jennifer never knew from one moment to the next where they stood.
"But at least you did make use of the time the two of you had together while it lasted," she pointed out. "Doesn't that count for anything?"
no subject
As normal as it got for them, anyway: shaking in the front hall of the apartment after being thrown into panic by firecrackers, sleeping with guns at their bedsides, arguing about contamination and infection if he so much as breathed near her right shoulder, communicating like real adults rather than uncivilized victims. That was the kind of normal that felt right, that felt okay to survive under –– just enough pressure to keep them from floundering completely.
"He's a bastard, though, leaving me with the kids like I'm his wife instead of his partner."
no subject
Jennifer felt a sudden, selfish ache for home- because that sounded a bit like herself and the rest of the gang, too. They may have had their difficulties and differences, but they always had each others' backs when it came down to it.
"Even if he did leave you with them... least they seem like good kids," she said quietly. "I've spoken to Riley a few times... introduced her to toasted marshmallows at May Day. They have a chance to be kids here."
no subject
They were miserable people at home, and slightly less miserable in Paradisa.
"I don't really want kids," Tess replies. "Or at least I don't want them to be kids. I need them to be adults, I need them to be mature. I spent a lot of years handling kids for Joel 'cause he couldn't stand to be near kids suffering, and let's be real, that's basically the only kind of kid we ever saw –– I never liked it, he knew I didn't like it, but I did it anyway. But it's too much for him to leave them with me when he knows I'm not mother material."
As if Joel had any say in it at all.
no subject
"Well, at least you're not alone in raising them here," Jennifer pointed out. "I'd help. And it's not like you need to be constantly watching out for them here, either."
no subject
"That's all I need. Them pissed off because I put a stranger in charge of them. Thanks, but no thanks."
She drinks deeply.
no subject
They'd surely need medical attention at some point, Jennifer thought, and, well- better for her to handle them than anyone else. Like you're handling things sooooo well here, right? Well, I am. To some extent. And they need someone they can trust, maybe even more than the adults do.