Adelaide Hawkins WILL say the wrong thing. (gracelessheart) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-03-18 18:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [03] march |
WHO: Addie and Cutter
WHAT: Running errands, then drowning in drinks
WHERE: Longacre Hardware to start
WHEN: 18 March 2019
STATUS: in progress
A day out of the library was exactly what Adelaide needed to get her head together. Neither one of the times she had created an uproar on the intranet lately had been on purpose, and she was near convinced that she simply was not compatible with other human life. She'd come in hoping to prove she was capable of a legitimate life free from the kind of restraint she'd been under so long, but at this point she was fairly sure that that ability, had it ever been there, was completely and irreparably suppressed. Either that or this post-apocalyptic world was just too damn high-strung and sensitive for her particular brand of callousness. Either way, she was thoroughly discouraged.
Being with Cutter was easy. They'd known each other so long that the instinct to put up defenses just wasn't there with him like it was with most people. She couldn't seem to turn it on and off at will, but with him she felt blessedly normal. As he maneuvered their vehicle around the debris and towards the Times Square hardware store that was their first stop, Adelaide drew in a long deep breath, leaned her head back on the headrest behind her, and shut her eyes for a moment.
"I don't care how many damn geeks there are out here, it feels good to get out," she said, consciously relaxing her shoulders. There were throwing knives strapped to her side, her gun tucked into her belt, and zombies all over the damn place, and Adelaide was sure it said a lot about her that she felt more at ease here than amid all those well-meaning people.
When they pulled up to the hardware store, Adelaide opened her eyes and gave Cutter a stern look. "You aren't allowed to lift anything you can't lift with one hand," she informed him. "I won't have my errands leaving your fingers more messed up than they are." She'd never been one to fuss over her brother's or his friend's bangups, mostly because Rodeo had never really allowed it but also because she'd discovered that if those two didn't work their own way around to getting their bumps and bruises looked at, nagging them about it would often just make them dig in their heels. Her relative calm about their smaller injuries also made it so that when she did see fit to demand they get help, the urgency wasn't lost by repetition and they sometimes listened.