EIGHTEENTH SHOT

[dog_eat_dog]

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.

Comments

[forgetyourusedtobe]

Elena knows all too well what it looks like to mourn. Everyone goes about it in different ways. Some drink, some smoke, some cry, some withdraw, some self-destruct, some turn their humanity off like she did. It doesn't matter the method though, the look is always the same. It's a tired look that's behind someone's eyes that gives it away.

Elena thinks of creeping back out of the room, leaving the woman to her privacy. After all, she doesn't know Tess. She doesn't know what (or who) she might have lost. Elena also is pretty sure nothing that she says or does will necessary be of any help and might even irritate her. But she remembers that being alone afterward was often the worst part about losing someone or something important was the part after everyone backed off. At first, they surrounded you. They offer their condolences, their suggestions of how best to cope, to remember, maybe even to forget. It's just white noise though. Loud, grating and useless because nothing anyone says or does will bring back who or what you've lost. You think that's the worst of it. But then you either force them away or they simply walk away on their own. They carry on with their lives and wonder why you haven't as well while you're left numb with the pieces of what used to be.

Elena decides she'd rather at least provide some company and risk pissing Tess off than turn and walk the other way. Elena clears her throat.

"This seat taken?"

[forsometimenow]

Jennifer hadn't heard from her usual charges in a couple of days- which actually wasn't all that unusual, given how they very much tended to keep to themselves unless they needed- or wanted- something from her. But after Joel had managed to evade her for weeks while nursing his broken hands on his own, she figured she'd try and nip any future instances like that in the bud as much as she could, or at the very least make sure both of their rooms were still there.

As usual, Jennifer hated herself a little bit for the fact that she kept doing this, that she kept keeping tabs on those two, that she kept insistently showing them kindness, that she always readily welcomed them for medical treatment, since she knew good and well that neither of them wanted her pity or charity. Pity was part of her motivation, though- pity and the insistent nagging of her conscience and medical morals.

Damned morals.

Jennifer couldn't help but feel a pang of shock, then of sadness when she reached Joel's door to find his room empty. He, at least, had tried to come to some sort of understanding with her. Despite his undying loyalty to Tess, he, much moreso than Tess, had seemed much less inclined to be an outright asshole to her.

After checking to see that Tess' room was still there, Jennifer wrestled with herself for an embarrassingly long time over what to do next. Tess hadn't answered a knock, so she was either purposely not answering the door or had left her room entirely. Jennifer could just leave it at that. Could just let go of the idea of trying to show the other woman kindness again. Could just walk away and let things play out how they would without Joel here.

But once more, her own desire to do something- anything- to help another person won over, so Jennifer spent some time looking around the castle for Tess, but had been about to give up after a while when she thought she smelled cigarette smoke. Looking for the source, she finally found who she was looking for.

After one final hesitation, Jennifer silently wished up a couple of beers- one for each of them- and slid into a seat near Tess, silently popping the tops off, setting one near Tess' improvised ash tray and keeping one for herself. She didn't speak, waited for the other woman to make the next move, which, Jennifer realized, would probably be to tell her to piss off.

Well, so be it. At least I tried.