a narrative Who: Sarge Where: Dog Park bonfire What: Some uncomfortable thoughts I needed to write down before me head explodes When: 4th of July
Sarge has been sitting in the same damn chair he has been sitting in for so many nights now that nobody bothers to try sitting in it anymore, at least not by the time he shows up every night. Because he does try to stay away just like he gives up every damn night - being alone in his bed means being alone with his thoughts and that is a situation that is best avoided even under normal circumstances. Everybody seems to assume that he is still reeling from the events weeks ago and to be fair it is not entirely untrue. It does tend to make one think, this nearly expiring experience, but that is not all that is rattling around in his brain in this most infuriating kind of way. The one that makes it impossible to even think about sleep.
There is the creep killing girls, he would like to get his Hands on him, Sarge would even say please and thank you. Then take his favorite golf Club to the fucker's arms and legs because he does not deserve to die without feeling a lot of pain first. Meddled with general thoughts on post apocalyptic politics, the never ending quest for meat and, just every now and then, he des worry about their Addie over at the Capitol. It feels strange to think of her as inherently theirs, but in his better moments he thinks he has the right to that little bit of possessiveness, he helped to raise her, after all. Which may or may not lead to a new problematic of its own down the road somewhere, but that train of thought never leaves the station, Sarge makes sure of that.
Survival by any means is deeply ingrained in all of them, hence the many cockroach references, and while that usually translates to kill or be killed situations for Rodeo and him he does understand that someone like her would pick another strategy, one tailored to her... abilities. Even if that sickens him to a certain degree and he refuses to acknowledge any and all details she may have let slip or that Rodeo ranted about. Because it might cause Sarge to do something stupid, like barrel through the Capitol to get her away from there all by himself. If anyone should have any doubts about his capability of committing to rather dumb acts fueled by rage... there is plenty of evidence that he can and will, disregarding his own safety. Because his life will never be worth nearly as much as hers, or Rodeos, and that is one of the first bullet points int the Book of Sarge. Would be, if he ever wrote it. Right underneath a detailed description of what a worthless scumbag he is for leaving two little lives that basically regarded him as their father unprotected and in the hands of a possibly insane woman.
On a good day he knows he shouldn't think that. Lori was never that bad, fairly skilled with guns, and familiar with the O'Dells and the rest of their remaining crew. But he is rarely so inclined to cut himself some slack in any shape or form, because examining his shortcomings in all their glory is merely keeping up with a tradition his own father started.
At some point some bitch decided to land on his lap without his consent, but that doesn't seem to be needed around here anyway. He briefly glares at Teagan, wondering if the constant pranks are undermining his authority he never really felt he had. To him it is blatantly obvious that he only holds his Position because Rodeo has known him forever, and that is it. No special skills needed, simple favoritism at work, and he is pretty sure that that's how everyone thinks it is most of the time. He trusts the other officers, to a point, but he will never be able to get past that final barrier that keeps them away from the core he considers his real self, one that even Rodeo doesn't fully know because that is the vulnerable part of himself he would gladly kill if he could.
Normally he doesn't seek distraction that doesn't come from a bottle, because he dislikes the stale aftertaste of sleeping with some woman he doesn't care about. But he also never tried finding one he cares about, so there's that. As long as they don't try to talk, kiss, touch or turn around it's alright though, and since drinking hasn't done him any good in days now he figures it might be time to switch to a different approach.
"Let's go." a low rumble, not quite a grumble but close. If they expect sweet talk or any form of preamble they should avoid the guy that is solely responsible for bringing down the average word count per day for men, and as the girl gets up to lead him to wherever place she deems fit he notices she's a blonde. Which is good, because that is a fairly safe hair color these days. No unpleasant reminders.