kit harris ★ leo mcgarry (totalcrackpot) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-02-10 21:29:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | kit harris |
Who: Kit Harris
What: Making a mistake.
Where: A pub somewhere in London.
When: Thursday evening, February 10th, 2011
Warnings: PG-13ish?
I said, I like the little things.
Kit hadn't had a drink since college. In the scheme of things, that felt like a lifetime. It felt heavy, like the inevitability was weighing her down, threatening to crush her. Like the longer she resisted, the harder she was going to fall. Leo tried to tell her otherwise, but she knew different. He couldn't erase his own history any better than she could change the way she was wired. Maybe it was his fault, maybe she always would have ended up like this, but either way, it didn't matter. She was an alcoholic. Her brain worked differently.
The way a glass feels in your hands – a good glass, thick, with a heavy base.
She took a cab and found a pub as far away from the Agency as possible. Walking in was a mistake, she knew that, but a thousand excuses ran threw her head, a thousand justifications. She'd lingered too long outside the door; by the time she thought better of it, the cab was already gone. It was freezing out, it was late, it was dark. She had to go inside. Just to sit down. She'd been in bars before and she hadn't slipped. Tonight wouldn't be any different. It wouldn't.
I love the sound an ice cube makes when you drop it from justthe right height.
But that was a lie. She sat down at the bar, took off her coat, and waited. What for, she couldn't say. For a reason to stop before she started? For fate to intervene? No. None of the above. Just for the bartender to get her attention.
I don't understand people who have one drink.
"What'll it be, love?"
I don't understand people who leave half a class of wine on the table.
There were so many reasons to give up. The Agency was powerless. Its heart, the one man they all took for granted, was in a coma. For all of Jim's attempts to placate the public and clean up everybody's messes, nothing was helping. Nobody else was doing the jobs they'd signed up for. Especially her. God knows she was trying, but she couldn't do it. Everything she did was wrong. Had been for weeks now. There was no point in trying anymore. No point.
I don't understand people who say they've had enough. How can you have enough of feeling like this?
"Johnny Walker Blue." Thirty bucks a shot.
How can you not want to feel like this longer?
The bartender poured her a drink. She stared at it for a moment before closing her eyes and taking a long sip. Smooth, but harsh. A perfect burn. She sighed.
"That's what I remember."