[semi-open] tryin' to get a handle on a reason to shine

[shootsoff]

who: roy harper and whoever else
what: catch-all for planned threads and open prompts
when: August-September
where: wherever
warnings: Roy is a recovering alcoholic/addict and that's going to come up a lot in this entry because he's struggling with staying on the wagon in the wake of Jason going home. The main entry and open prompts in it will skim over the topic of addiction, to make it easier to avoid, I'll keep the bulk of in-depth meta about addictions in the "bar" prompt in the comments. If you want a thread with Roy that doesn't go in-depth about it, just shoot me a PM or note in your subject line that you're not interested in addiction issues, and I'll avoid it as much as possible!



[Things had just been getting better, they'd just been settling down, he'd been getting used to being here. Making friends. Feeling easy with things. Feeling less lonely than he had at home with the kids and Jason and people around. He'd been actually living instead of just kind of surviving in the gutter like he had been since he and Jason split up back home.

But of course, he's Roy Harper, and things never stay okay for Roy Harper. At some point, he's going to come to terms with that, to just accept that after things get better they're always going to get worse.

It's been about a week since he woke up and Jason was just gone. Gone without leaving a note, without saying good-bye. Just disappeared. Since then, Roy hasn't really left Wayne Manor. He's barely even left his room, except to trudge to the kitchen and pour some hot water into a cup of ramen noodles. Maybe not the healthiest coping mechanism, but the bonus of not leaving the manor was that it limited his options when it came to alcohol - if nothing else, Jay had known him and never kept it where Roy knew about it. He'd managed to keep himself from tearing Jason's room apart looking for anything he might've had stashed, but he's pretty sure that Jason would've at least pitched the bottles out of the window before he left. Maybe. Hopefully he'd cared that much.

Today's the day, though. It's the day he's going to finally clean up and get out of the house. Go somewhere. Do something productive. Maybe it'll make him feel better, stop wallowing, to go out and participate in the world, to move his body, to get his life figured out.

It totally has nothing to do with the fact he's run out of ramen.]

i. gym

[After shaving the red fuzz off his jaw and having an actual shower, the first place Roy goes is to the gym. Dressed in a black tank top and a pair of sweatpants, hands wrapped up, a handkerchief wrapped around his head to keep his hair out of his face, he spends a long time hitting the punching bag in the corner. There's no grace or real skill involved, he's just hitting the bag over and over, letting himself take out some of the emotion.

That much shows on his face - Roy's always been crap at hiding what he's feeling, especially when what he's feeling is so intensely negative. His mouth is drawn down, his brows are furrowed, and it's pretty obvious he's punching out his feelings. It takes about 45 minutes of this before he's stepping back, resting a hand against the bag, and taking a few sharp gasps for breath, hair and tank top slightly damp with sweat.]

Damn. One week and I'm already out of shape.

ii. walkabouts & smoothies

[After the gym, he's tired but his brain is still buzzing unpleasantly, and he needs to move, needs to keep his mind off things. Needs a distraction, because all he wants is to be out of his own head for a bit. So he walks through the Quarantine, through the downtown square, takes a look at the tent cities going up in the park, he browses through stores and outdoor markets and asks people questions at booths and in shops just to keep his mind occupied.

Eventually, he's exhausted, dragging his feet, and he stops in a smoothie place to get something to drink. Leaning against the bar facing the window with his giant cup of green juice he can hardly taste, he rests his cheek in his hand and stares out the window, expression distant.]

This sucks.

[Quiet, ostensibly to himself, but definitely loud enough to draw attention. Whoops...doesn't even occur to him that he might come across as talking crap about the smoothie...]

iii. wildcard

Hit me up with a random starter if you'd like one, or shoot me a PM or message on plurk at caffemisto for a custom one.

Comments

[shootsoff]

Honestly? Roy's got nothing against a friend who wants to talk him out of something stupid. In fact, not having a friend willing to talk him out of something stupid is exactly why he's here.

Jason is gone. The moon sure seems a whole hell of a lot emptier for it.

When she sits down next to him and starts talking, he doesn't respond for a moment, aside from lifting his elbows to the bar, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands, and staring down at the drink a little harder. For a few moments, he doesn't reply at all, then sighs, deeply.

"Yeah, it's the first one. Been fighting this particular demon for half the day now. Lucky me, that you show up right when I was about to wave the white flag."

The timbre and tone of his voice don't really sound exactly grateful, like he thinks he's lucky. But he does lift his head a bit, glance up at her, and offer a half-hearted smile.

"Fancy meeting you here."

[whosthemonsternow]

South's about to prod again, maybe a little more frustrated with the silence, when he finally speaks again. She pulls her eyebrows down and together with a sigh.

Well, his gratefulness doesn't sound genuine but she's glad for it, he'd probably be kicking himself like hell if he didn't pull through it. She's not sure how to help, frankly, she doesn't restrict herself with alcohol- probably should, it's probably an issue. She has a lot of issues that are unaddressed, but she wants to help. Somehow.

"That the best you got?" She asks to his line, expression softening and a faint smile pulling across her lips, "I knew a pro at pick-up lines, you gotta do better than that, bud."

[shootsoff]

Sometimes it's hard to notice you have an unaddressed issue until it puts you at rock bottom, and Roy's been there. He's been there a few too many times. Maybe he's there right now, or close to it, and...well, it's kind of nice having someone here to notice he's getting there and kick his ass. That's always been what worked best for Roy Harper, when anything worked at all.

"Man, don't make me go up against a pro at pick-up lines, I'm cheesy at best and I don't know if I can handle the pressure tonight."

It's half a joke, half not. The truth is, he's feeling down enough on himself, feeling worthless, he doesn't have much confidence, not for trying to pick up a girl, not for taking care of himself. Hell, he barely has the fortitude to stay sober.

[whosthemonsternow]

"Cheesy is good, plenty of chicks dig cheesy. Plus, ya know, all pickup lines are pretty fucking cheesy to begin with. And you're cheesy already too, so, it works." She says as she shrugs, glancing at the glass again before taking a slow breath.

She has no idea what she's doing here, but keeping him talking has to be a good thing, right? Chit-chat, teasing, keeping his mind off of whatever's bothering him. Distractions help her, after all.

In the attempt to keep it nice a light, she shifts in her seat to lean over, elbow resting closer to him before she says, "I’m not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together." Not the cheesiest but it's something. "Or maybe: I was wondering if you had an extra heart. Mine was just stolen."

[shootsoff]

When she comments that plenty of chicks dig cheesy, that pickup lines are cheesy, and he's cheesy, that manages to get another little half-smile out of him. Then she's leaning over, her elbow sliding up next to his on the bar, and she's giving him back a couple of lame pickup lines of her own.

It startles a laugh out of him, and he leans over, nudging his shoulder against hers.

"Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to lie to my diary later?"

Lifting a brow, he offers her a weak smile.

[whosthemonsternow]

She eyes him a moment, considering the probably joking question before she shrugs, leaning in to press the faintest of kisses to the corner of his mouth before saying, "It'd be fucked up to make you a liar."

It's just a small, more teasing thing than anything- but it does give her what she's sure is the greatest idea.

"You're pretty, and I'm hot. Together we'd be pretty hot," South gives another lame pickup line before adding, "What do you say we leave this shithole and find something to distract ourselves with?"

[shootsoff]

Something about that, the way she just leans in and goes for it, is reassuring. Reminds him that he's not completely down-and-out. Someone wants him, even a little, and that tiny bit of affirmation gives him enough of a boost to make him feel like he can deal, at least for tonight.

Exhaling a bit when she starts making pickup lines at him again, he makes a soft chuckle, shakes his head, and pushes the glass away from himself.

"If I follow you home, will you keep me?"

For a moment, he just looks at her, then lifts his hand and brushes his knuckles against her jaw.

"Yeah. Let's do that. I could use a distraction."

[whosthemonsternow]

His chuckle- and pushing the glass away- makes her crack a wide grin, shaking her head at his pickup line before she hops up.

"I just might." Keep him that is, she has a couple stray pets already, after all.

South takes a step quickly before glancing back, expecting him to follow, "My place isn't far from here, and I have no roomies." Nice and alone, plenty of opportunity to have some fun.