(no subject)
Chase was tossing the old rugby ball around as he sidestepped small remaining piles of snow, trying to ignore the general sense that the Island had been put through one hell of a blizzard, like it got turned upside down, shaken, and then put back on its head and expected to go about things as if it were just normal.
He was trying not to think too much on Yet Another Incident. Sure, it wasn't horrible and it hadn't done anything to him, but it was a reminder of the subtle and annoying ways that the Island could get against you and really screw you up. He was just trying to make an honest go of things and it wasn't like he wasn't behaving. He'd been faithful, he'd been a devoted father, he'd been a good doctor, and he was becoming a mature head of psych. And he was still trapped in those feelings of not being good enough, of worrying what might be taken away from him or worse, what might be done to him.
He clenched the rugby ball tighter as the Compound grew into sight and he resisted the really fervent urge to pitch it as hard as he could and hope it maybe took something out with it. He figured that he'd only earn worse karma for himself and decided against that.
He nearly got stuck in a small snowbank and cursed under his breath when it almost got the better of him. Rugby ball still in hand, he stopped where he was to bend over and brush at his jeans. "It's like I'm back in Jersey," he muttered with heavy disdain.
He was trying not to think too much on Yet Another Incident. Sure, it wasn't horrible and it hadn't done anything to him, but it was a reminder of the subtle and annoying ways that the Island could get against you and really screw you up. He was just trying to make an honest go of things and it wasn't like he wasn't behaving. He'd been faithful, he'd been a devoted father, he'd been a good doctor, and he was becoming a mature head of psych. And he was still trapped in those feelings of not being good enough, of worrying what might be taken away from him or worse, what might be done to him.
He clenched the rugby ball tighter as the Compound grew into sight and he resisted the really fervent urge to pitch it as hard as he could and hope it maybe took something out with it. He figured that he'd only earn worse karma for himself and decided against that.
He nearly got stuck in a small snowbank and cursed under his breath when it almost got the better of him. Rugby ball still in hand, he stopped where he was to bend over and brush at his jeans. "It's like I'm back in Jersey," he muttered with heavy disdain.