text; + action options; (cw character death)

[sketchycharacter]

[locked to people who know Elena Fisher]

elena's dead

[....yeah that's all. Odds are good that Nate will not want to reply to questions, condolences or comments regarding the recent tragedy, though Chloe Frazer might. However, he can be found...]

wandering; Once the shock has passed—if it ever does—Nate wanders for hours. Fuck, maybe days, he doesn't know. He just doesn't want to go back to the house in Region 1 where she isn't.

Eventually he finds himself in a well-wooded park. For lack of anything else to do, he climbs a tree.

at home; When he finally does make it back, Nate parks his ass on the couch, where he'll be sleeping until—well, he can't count on there being an "until." Maybe he'll just live on the couch forever. Sorry, Pepper, Varric, etc.

at the ingress complex; Nate comes by the facility a couple of times, to ask for news or if they can guarantee that they'll be able to bring her back, because he knows that people have returned, and he knows that they don't always.

He walks away both times, unable to stand it if the answer is no.]

Comments

[pubcrawl]

Probaby better that you passed out when you did. I didn't know her well, only from what Dorian's told me, but she might not have wanted that for you.

[ Bull waits while he digs something out for them. Should he wait for an invite to sit? Where, kitchen? Living room?

Fuck it. He moves to the table and pulls out a chair, lowering himself down carefully since he's unsure how sturdy it is. ]

Which is what?

[sketchycharacter]

Don't tell me what she'd want for me. I know that already.

[Both Bull and Dorian are right, though. She wouldn't want that. The thought is another dash of salt on the wound, except the shake cap falls off and dumps the entire container of salt right on it.

The chair creaks, but he doesn't give a shit if Bull breaks right through it. Chairs can be replaced.]

I dunno what this is. Dragon piss. [Metaphorically or literally, who knows. He sets the bottle and two...beer steins, not wine glasses, on the table.]

[pubcrawl]

[ His hands come up in surrender and he doesn't say anything else. Grieving men, they're snappy for a reason. They don't want you telling them what they already know, they don't want you telling them what's right; it just makes the process harder. ]

Going straight for the hard stuff. You ever had it before?

[ Bull's gotta give the guy credit. ]

[sketchycharacter]

First time was the other day.

[Was it a day ago or days? The fact that he can't remember bodes well for the potency of this stuff. That or it could be that the days all blend together now regardless of what he drinks. Could go either way.

Nate pours himself a stein of wine and pushes to bottle to Bull. He can pour his own.]

Bottoms up.

[pubcrawl]

And you're still able to speak? I'm impressed.

[ None of that likely matters in the face of grieving.

Bull gets himself a glass poured and lifts it. ]

Bottoms up.

[ Time for that first shot. ]

[sketchycharacter]

[Nate takes a mighty swig.

And chokes, half of it getting spit back out onto the table. Only a fraction of said swig makes it down his throat.]

Jesus. What the—

[Apparently, already being drunk is a pre-requisite for this stuff.]

[pubcrawl]

[ He's got his swig still in his cheek when Nate's spitting out the precious alcohol. That's about a typical reaction. Bull swallows his down and pushes up from the chair to fetch the cloth hanging by the stove. ]

You probably should've sipped that.

[ The cloth is dropped over the mess. Clean up in aisle one. ]

Burns, doesn't it?

[sketchycharacter]

A little.

[He wipes his face off with the back of his hand, then wipes that off with the cloth.]

What's brewed in this stuff?

[pubcrawl]

It's probably best that you don't ask.

[ Dropping back down into the chair he's reaching for his drink again, ready for another swallow. ]

Should we get you something lighter instead?

[sketchycharacter]

[Probably.]

Not that light.

[pubcrawl]

What do you have to drink around this place?

[ Wine? Something watered down? Water? ]

[sketchycharacter]

[What hasn't he already had by this point?]

Beer. Wine, probably. [He waves an arm toward the kitchen closet.] Whatever.