closed | there's something tragic, but almost pure

[hardedged]

WHO: Andy and Jessica Jones
WHERE: Outside a dive bar, in Maurtia Falls
WHEN: June 24, evening
WHAT: Jess drinks. And Andy babysits (while also drinking, probably).
WARNINGS: Vulgar language, drug abuse, and sad emotions. Will update with more if necessary.

[ fuck this goddamn place. over one year trapped in this prison, and almost everyone she knows has returned home. trish, sarissa, sarah, jesse — anyone who has ever left an impact in her life is gone. they left her alone, stuck in this hellhole.

typical. her crapass luck strikes again.

there's no remedy for the storm raging in her mind. her head spins wildly, and jess relies on what she always does — the sweet, numbing relief of cheap alcohol. stumbling outside of a shitty bar, she crashes into a pile of trash bags. god, she feels nauseous. there's a deep exhale, as jessica struggles to her feet. ]

Shit.

Comments

[killtime]

[ Andy knows the feeling. It's a shitty one, and inevitable, as far as she's concerned. You don't live a couple thousand years without losing some people — people you love, who loved you back. Immortality makes an enemy of time, and time takes everything eventually. Then there's Andy, stuck forever in the hellhole of her life, unable to die. It's half the reason she drinks like she does. Chronically.

She's out looking for a place where she can indulge her habit when she hears a voice coming from the heap of garbage behind one of the local bars. Honestly, she almost ignores it — mind your own damn business, right? — except that voice is familiar. ]

...Well, fuck. [ She offers the explicative with mild surprise, coming over to offer her hand to Jess. ] Typical Sunday night for you, Jonesy?

[hardedged]

[ she squints at andy from her position on the ground. with a sharp scoff, jess remains where she is, rebuffing the other woman's hand. ]

Beats church.

[ sarcastic as always. classic jones. ]

[killtime]

[ Andy scoffs lightly. ]

Amen.

[ She's not even offended that Jess bats her hand away, but she doesn't keep walking either. Instead, she digs into her jacket pocket for her cigarettes, pausing to light up before she continues: ]

Come on. [ She exhales smoke before offering her cigarette to Jess. ] You think I'm gonna leave you here for sanitation services to scoop up Monday morning?

[hardedged]

[ once again, jess declines her gracious offer. she's just shooting for the biggest asshole award tonight, apparently. ]

You should. [ yep, still in the trash, where she belongs. no booze, no cigarettes. ] Just back off.

[killtime]

[ Andy shrugs as if to say "suit yourself" before lifting the cigarette back to her own mouth, pressing it there at the corner of her lips as she considers the heap of misery that is Jessica Jones laying in a pile of garbage. She could walk away. Probably should. But. ]

Alright. You've got about thirty seconds, then I'm slinging you over my shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes.

[hardedged]

[ her gaze widens, then narrows nervously. no way. just leave her in peace, hot immortal wife. ]

Bullshit.

[killtime]

[ She just keeps standing there, arms loosely folded, cigarette dangling from her lips. If she had a watch, she'd check it just to make a visible point. ]

Ten seconds.

[hardedged]

[ jesus, she's serious. with an aggravated groan, jess pulls herself to her feet and attempts not to stumble along the way. she manages to succeed — barely. ]

Fine, mom.

[killtime]

[ Even knowing she'll probably be rebuffed, Andy moves to catch Jess by the arm, steadying her when she stands. She can handle a little rejection — it won't hurt her feelings — but all that effort it took to get Jess upright would be a shame to waste by letting her fall right back down. ]

Yeah, yeah. Very fucking cute, Jess. [ But despite her words, her tone is mild. She's seen and been worse. ] C'mon. Let's get you home.