(no subject)
If asked, Jill could give half a dozen different clinical definitions of addiction, she could explain the psychology behind her own addiction with ease, with the calm confidence of someone who'd been through treatment and had not only defeated her weakness, but had stomped it down until it didn't exist anymore. It would be bullshit, that confidence, but it would be there. She knew more than enough, she'd read the books, attended the therapy sessions, she'd learned her weaknesses, she'd named them. She'd accepted that she had a tendency to self-medicate.
But it didn't stop just because prescription pills were out of the picture.
Sitting on the beach with a clumsily rolled cigarette held tightly between her fingers, she stared out at the water and tried to mentally catalogue the plants she had been writing in her notebook. Having ducked out of the lab under the pretense of doing more work, she'd taken the book with her, but it sat abandoned in the sand beside her as she smoked.
Two and a half months had gone by since David had disappeared and she hadn't really let herself deal with it yet. Maybe she never would. Maybe she'd continue to push it down and distract herself, self-medicate with alcohol and cigarettes and God only knew what else. Work, sex, more cigarettes. She could do all that until she'd pushed everyone away and then it wouldn't matter if they disappeared.
Or if she did.
"Jill, I've seen you drink. I thought recovering addicts didn't... drink."
"Right, well, alcohol was never my addiction. Although, I'm sure someday it could be. Or cigarettes or... God or... who knows."
Taking a deep drag from the cigarette, Jill blew the smoke away and tried to block out David's voice. It wasn't as bad as it had been before his arrival, when she'd felt him everywhere, but he was still there somehow. Just enough to make it painful.
"Who knows," she echoed quietly, lifting the cigarette to her lips again.
[ooc: Despite her mood, it's a perfectly fine time to meet her. She won't brood all over your pup, I promise.]
But it didn't stop just because prescription pills were out of the picture.
Sitting on the beach with a clumsily rolled cigarette held tightly between her fingers, she stared out at the water and tried to mentally catalogue the plants she had been writing in her notebook. Having ducked out of the lab under the pretense of doing more work, she'd taken the book with her, but it sat abandoned in the sand beside her as she smoked.
Two and a half months had gone by since David had disappeared and she hadn't really let herself deal with it yet. Maybe she never would. Maybe she'd continue to push it down and distract herself, self-medicate with alcohol and cigarettes and God only knew what else. Work, sex, more cigarettes. She could do all that until she'd pushed everyone away and then it wouldn't matter if they disappeared.
Or if she did.
"Jill, I've seen you drink. I thought recovering addicts didn't... drink."
"Right, well, alcohol was never my addiction. Although, I'm sure someday it could be. Or cigarettes or... God or... who knows."
Taking a deep drag from the cigarette, Jill blew the smoke away and tried to block out David's voice. It wasn't as bad as it had been before his arrival, when she'd felt him everywhere, but he was still there somehow. Just enough to make it painful.
"Who knows," she echoed quietly, lifting the cigarette to her lips again.
[ooc: Despite her mood, it's a perfectly fine time to meet her. She won't brood all over your pup, I promise.]