tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
It's been two months since Brooke dumped the last of Rachel's coke. All in all, for a drug addict, it could have been worse. If she was home, it would have been damn near impossible. Mostly because she made it that way. Brooke could offer every kind of help but at the end of the day, Rachel's kind of a screw up. A big one. It's a reputation she has more than earned and it's deservedly followed her all the way to whatever fresh hell this island is. Its probably this whole thing with the disappearing guys with guns or whatever that's set it all of today. Brooke's devastated and everyone's running around being upset and at the end of the day, Rachel knows that's not going to be the case when she leaves. Its her own fault. Brooke will hopefully be sad, but she'll have her boyfriends to comfort her. And as much as it completely pains her to admit it, she's a little jealous. And despite all past indications, its not because she wants them. She avoids Priestly like the plague when she can and as much as she likes Yorrick, she suspects none of them trust her as far as they could throw her. Charlie has his tiny English boyfriend and Rachel.....Rachel has a cat. And a hut. And strips at a bar. Where half the staff has been warned off serving her. Because everyone knows she can't really be trusted, with good reason.
Today, Rachel wants some coke. She wants something to fill all this pressing, yawning time. Because there's no where to go and no way to leave and there's just her and her cat and the damn monkeys or whatever is living out there. The walls of the hut feel like they're pressing in as she puts her mewling, flat-faced devil kitten in her bag and starts out the door. Maybe she can just walk it off. Maybe she can find someone to take home. Maybe the island will transform into some kind of coke-laced candyland.
She stomps up the path towards the compound, hoping that the crush of people will provide some white noise and distraction. The milling crowd of people becomes just visible as the trees clear and then not quite as much as she promptly trips over some unseen dip and slaps down hard to her hands and knees. "Shit," she hisses, blinking shocked tears out of her eyes as she gingerly picks her stinging hands off the ground and watches her cat wriggle its way out of the bag and go hopping off towards the nearest person.
(ooc: open to all! Beware of the tiny, smash-faced orange fluff ball hopping towards you. She's an unpredictable little devil cat]
Today, Rachel wants some coke. She wants something to fill all this pressing, yawning time. Because there's no where to go and no way to leave and there's just her and her cat and the damn monkeys or whatever is living out there. The walls of the hut feel like they're pressing in as she puts her mewling, flat-faced devil kitten in her bag and starts out the door. Maybe she can just walk it off. Maybe she can find someone to take home. Maybe the island will transform into some kind of coke-laced candyland.
She stomps up the path towards the compound, hoping that the crush of people will provide some white noise and distraction. The milling crowd of people becomes just visible as the trees clear and then not quite as much as she promptly trips over some unseen dip and slaps down hard to her hands and knees. "Shit," she hisses, blinking shocked tears out of her eyes as she gingerly picks her stinging hands off the ground and watches her cat wriggle its way out of the bag and go hopping off towards the nearest person.
(ooc: open to all! Beware of the tiny, smash-faced orange fluff ball hopping towards you. She's an unpredictable little devil cat]