Jimmy Boudreaux (c6h12o6) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-01-08 06:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ! narrative, jimmy boudreaux |
WHO: Jimmy Boudreaux
WHAT: Jimmy's counseling session is a bust.
WHEN: Tuesday, January 8
WHERE: Counseling Office
WARNINGS: Language, Anger
STATUS: Complete
“James.” Jimmy looked up from his clasped hands dangling loosely between his knees. “What?” “How are you feeling?” “Fine.” His counselor just stared. And stared. And stared. “I. Am. Fine,” Jimmy finally said through gritted teeth. “Ain’t nothin’ happen to me. Ain’t nothin’ to feel about.” “I would hardly call the incident in -” “They ain’t take me, they ain’t ‘speriment on me, ain’t try to get rid a’ my power. Ain’t hurt. Or dead.” Somehow Jimmy was on his feet, pacing around the counselor’s office. “Ain’t got no right to -- ” He broke off, clenching his jaw and shaking his head. “All these assholes ‘round here talking shit ‘bout IVF and IVI. They was safe though. And then there’s the ones who was akshally took. Some a’ ‘em shot up with some shit. Others got kilt. Coulda been..." “And that could’ve been you?” “No! Nothin’ happened to me. Got to the safehouse safe and sound.” Jimmy shook his head violently. “Cain’t we talk ‘bout something else?” His counselor stared for a long moment, but this time Jimmy wasn’t going to break. Finally after a few minutes of silence, the other fella shuffled through his papers. “I see you’re singing at the memorial. And that you’re helping to organize something for Myra.” “Right thing to do.” “Mmm hmm.” The counselor made some notes, but Jimmy couldn’t see what he was writing. “It ain’t?” The counselor looked up. “Doesn’t really matter what I think, does it?” “No,” he said. “It don’t.” Stared him right in the eye when he said it too. The counselor sighed and sat back in his chair, placing his fingertips together and looking at Jimmy over his hands. “Clearly, you don’t want to talk to me. Is there anyone you feel comfortable talking to? Your fellow Blackbirds perhaps, or Mr. Alizadeh, or Miss -” Jimmy cut him off. “Ain’t nothin’ to talk ‘bout. Right as rain.” He glanced at his watch. “We ‘bout done here?” The other fella gestured toward the door. “For now, Mr. Boudreaux.” |