Addicts Support Group

[frakkup]

Kara affixed the sign to the bulletin board carefully. The urge to pull her hands away from it was strong, but the time for pretending had passed. Kara had attached her name to the sign, had attached the label of addict to herself, and there she was damned tired of moving backwards. This was a step forward, even if it made her want to puke all

Comments

[guinea_trap]

Bill walks up behind Kara, skims the poster for a second, but seein' as how it don't really apply to him his gaze moves on.

"What's with the gloves?" he asks, givin' 'em a tap with his knuckles.

[frakkup]

"What do you think?" Kara returned, equal parts startled and grateful for his reaction to her sign. "They're to protect my hands when I hit someone's face with them."

[guinea_trap]

"Yeah? Ya think you're fast enough to hit me in the face?" Bill asks, hopping from foot to foot, fists raised. It's kinda funny with the fake leg an' all, but he's so fuckin' tickled to have one in the first place he can't resist jumpin' around like an asshole.

[frakkup]

"Yes," said Kara decidedly, and it wasn't until he began to hop that it occurred to her to look down. "Frak. Your leg."

[9mmshotglass]

"Guess this is as good a time as any to get my ass back into some sort of support group," Reese said with a sigh as she watched the woman tick that last tack in like she was nailing more than the sign there. She knew Julian would probably drag her there himself (in his quietly helpful way) so, maybe she'd do it preemptively. Or at least inquire.

Hey, no program here, so technically, she wasn't working a damn thing now. And no matter how bitchy she was about it and how she could do it (and no matter how much she thought she hated support groups), she had to face that fact that positive pressure to get and stay clean was something she needed. Her eyes caught the swing of the woman's boxing gloves and held there for a moment.

"Now that that sign's up, you need a sparring partner?" she asked quietly. It was tough enough admitting you were in fucking trouble to begin with. Getting a sign up? Yeah. That was rough.

[frakkup]

Kara's eyes swung towards hers, settling there for a moment like the woman was an unexpected gift.

"Yeah, actually," she said, exhaling heavy enough to startle herself. She'd known it'd be hard to put up the sign, but Kara hadn't anticipated this much physical tension.

"You box?"

[9mmshotglass]

"I kickboxed for awhile at the gym," Reese said with an arch of her eyebrows. "Guess that's close enough, unless you count scrapping with suspects as a detective." She smile was open and full of genuine mirth. "Wish I had my own gloves, now." She drew a slow breath and let it out in pieces, drowning out her own tension. It settled deep into her spine, usually without her even noticing. Seemed like it'd been there for a long while, now. "God, I miss a good sparring session. If I wasn't weight training, I used to practice martial arts when things got tough."

And if that didn't help, it was the bars and the men, the sex and the alcohol since the coke wasn't an option. (Can't go back to that place, Reese. That'd kill you.)

"Things got tough pretty often." She glanced down at her hands and snorted softly.

[frakkup]

"I hear that," said Kara, though she couldn't help but wonder as to the specifics of the similarities between them. The other woman certainly held herself in similar fashion. Military too, maybe? Or a cop. "Enough of us got cabin fever where I come from, we'd set up a Dance. Big ass, ship-wide sparring session."

Kara looked down at her gloves. "You take mine," she said. "There's another pair inside, I'll get'em."

[dickgout]

Jason couldn't help staring like a slack-jawed yokel at the sign. See, the thing was-- it was pretty hard to be an addict when the source of the addiction didn't exist in a place.

But certain things just didn't leave him. Like how heavy and cold Amy's body had been, or the look of panic on his sister's face when she came to the jail. Or having his dick drained with a needle.

"Fuck," he muttered.

[frakkup]

That sounded promising, Kara thought, exiting the kitchen with a glass of cold juice for the walk back home.

She didn't have any illusions about her negligible powers of subtlety, and settled for resting her hip against the wall next to her sign. "Well?"

[dickgout]

Hot but scary.

"Uh, I was just tryin' to figure out if I belonged there," Jason said. "See, the thing I had a problem with, well, it don't exist out here. On the other hand, it fucked things up real bad at home."

[frakkup]

"Well," said Kara, encouraged by the guy's easy admission. "Do you still want it? 'Cause I want alcohol all the time, whether the island's cranking it out or not."

[jdick]

There was no one at the bulletin board when Joe stopped by, reading over the announcements that were posted. One in particular caught his eye and he frowned as he read it over, leaning closer to block anyone else from seeing what he was reading.

Still frowning, he leaned back again a moment later, chewing on the inside of his lip. He read over the announcement again, then turned away and found himself facing Dale. Finally, his mouth twisted up from the frown and he almost grinned, because he should've known Dale would catch him looking at this shit.

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"Hm, I don't see a date on that," said Dale, resting a hand lightly against the small of Joe's back. "I guess we'll have to go ask her and find out."

[jdick]

"We will, will we?" Joe asked dryly, but he wasn't exactly surprised by this information. It wasn't the type of thing he would've done back home. In fact, he would've laughed at most of the assholes who would have done something like this, but it was different here on the island. "You're gonna go with me?"

[dale_cooper_fbi]

"If that's what it takes," said Dale cheerfully, studying the notice himself. "I think it's a fine idea. An excellent use of time and resources."

[sir_samuel]

Vimes liked to keep an eye on the bulletin board. It wasn't like he cataloged it, or kept track of what people were saying to each other in any kind of official way, but he liked to look at it, see what was there. It was a good way to find out news, see what was going on, gauge people's moods, and was a hell of lot more reliable than the Times. It was just a bulletin board, covered in dozens of little scraps of paper, but it was the writing on the wall. Literally.

He waited until the woman pinning the note up was gone before he stepped up to take a look. Most of it was old stuff, but the new note caught his eye. He read it.

There weren't many people around, but his face went carefully blank all the same.

Huh.

[If anyone feels like tagging him, go ahead :D ]

[loaded_wolf]

Angua came up to Vimes, skimming the papers in her hands, when she caught the expression on his face. "Sir," she began to say, eyes lifting to the sign posted in the middle of the board. "...Oh."

[sir_samuel]

Vimes took an abrupt step back from the board. If he pretended he hadn't seen it, it was as good as if it wasn't there, right? Sam Vimes didn't do meetings. He didn't need meetings.

Ignoring the obvious fact that he wasn't the only one he had read it, he turned to Angua. "What did you need, Sergeant?"

[loaded_wolf]

"Oh, come now, haven't I been promoted to Captain, yet?" Angua said, some automatic reply in the face of having caught him reading the notice that so obviously applied to him.