Tate Sewell (tatesewell) wrote in vrrpg, @ 2017-05-25 07:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, char: alec urquhart, char: tate sewell, location: victory road clinic, time: 2009 05 |
RP: When, not if.
Who: Tate & Alec
What: First Session
When: May 4th (Back dated)
Where: Alec's Office
Warnings: He is there for help but I think it was a fairly harmless scene.
The meltdown in front of Quin, in her home, had been eye opening for Tate. While Quin had been the mother that he needed, she had never once threatened him that if he didn’t get sober, he wouldn’t be in the children’s lives. He however had given himself that threat. That he needed to get sober so that he could be around to see the kids. He wanted to be able to share with the children stories of their father, a man that they would never meet. Tate knew that if he didn’t get sober soon, he wouldn’t live long enough to tell them anything.
It was that motivation that had Tate taking the appointment that Quin had made for him. Tate had panicked when he realized that he didn’t know where to start with all of this, he had sent a message to Quin asking for help. While he had been trying to not drink, it had been hard. The first day had been fine, he’d told himself that he felt fine and he had gone through his day without any problems. The second day however he had woke up with the sweats, found himself shaking while trying to do simple tasks around his flat, and by the time he had made it to dinner time, he was drunk and in bed watching cartoons on his muggle TV. He had not been able to stay sober. He had been bargaining with himself, that he was just drinking enough to avoid the shaking and the sweats.
When he had been getting ready for his appointment this morning, he had thought about showering and actually looking presentable but he had taken a shot or two of the whiskey he had tucked under his bed. It had caused him to lose track of time and he had only just made it out the door in time. He was wearing a pair of jeans that hadn’t been washed since that night he had showed up at Quin’s home, a t-shirt for some band that had seen better days, and his hair was just a mess. He knew there was a chance he still smelled of the whiskey he had drank earlier, so he had attempted to mask it by spraying just a little cologne on his clothes. It was childish, the last time he had tried that trick he had been in school and smoking weed during summer break. It didn’t work then, he had no idea why he thought it would now.
As Tate heard them call his name, he knew this was the point of no return. He could turn and leave or he could walk into that room and meet this doctor Quin had set him up with. Blurry eyes glanced towards the doors, before he pushed himself to get up from his seat. He wasn’t drunk, but he could feel the buzz. That familiar feeling that gave the world a fuzzy glow that made reality easier to swallow. He walked steadily through the door and into his first appointment. As he entered the room, he gave an awkward little wave and half smile, before he nervously motioned at the door. “Should I shut it?”