tushanshu_logs | teenaged dirt bags [open]

Characters: Brandon Sharpe and open
Date: Forward dated to Feb 23rd.
Location: Several stores and locations in Keeliai.
Situation: After a rather harrowing conversation, Brandon's basically been avoiding everyone and everything imaginable. But unfortunately for him, no one in Keeliai does grocery delivery services. Teenaged boys go through their food stash pretty handily.
Warnings/Rating: Ridiculously histrionic teenaged boy angst? Couple of thread-headers in the post itself for anyone who might want to run into him.

[He can admit that starving himself into a slow and wasting death is probably too dramatic. Even so, it takes him until the last box of weird Keeliai crackers to even think about going outside.

Showering is a process. He doesn't think about the last time this happened, when Steph had to come over and find him after the executions at the so-called 'Sacrificial Altar' just to help him shave. Now he doesn't even look in the mirror when he gets out of the shower, he just towel-dries his hair and leaves to get dressed, peach-fuzz be damned.

'Getting dressed' is also a process, albeit less of one than showering. He digs something out of his closet that has a hood that'll obscure his features enough, and then a pair of sunglasses. When he's finished he looks half like something that walked off the set of Hobo with a Shotgun and The Breakfast Club but all pretentions of vanity aside he really just doesn't care.

His hands are almost shaking when he opens the door. It's probably a combination of hunger or fatigue or something. He hasn't slept well since--

Yeah. He's just. Not going to think about that.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ah yes, today must be everyone's shopping day. Terry's sort of wandering about aimlessly, more perusing the stores out of curiosity than necessity. Right now his attention's focused on something in a totally different direction to the one he's walking on, and he literally walks straight into Brandon. Instinctively, Terry reaches out in the way you do when you're not sure how hard you just bumped into someone and you don't know if they're fine or going to fall yet.]

Wh-- Sorry.

[HOW DOES SHOT THERAPIST.]

Whatever. It's not like you killed me.

[A slight smile. Other people? He doesn't care so much about hiding how off-the-walls depressed he is. Around this dude? You bet he's going to put on a mask.]

Hey, have you heard from a kid named Peeta Mellark?

[Wh

What.] Yeah, we've spoken.

[He gives Brandon a bit of a quizzical look because wow that question came out of nowhere, but hey he's been distracted from scrutinizing him any.]

Yeah? Good. I-- good. I told him to talk to you. He didn't happen to call you 'Kansas', did he?

[mission: accomplished.]

Why... Would he call me Kansas?

[what did you say about him omg]

[... okay that actually does get him grinning. Almost genuinely.]

I told him he should try clicking his heels together and saying 'I wanna go back to Kansas'. He got it in his head that that meant he should call you Kansas. No clue how. Wasn't my fault.

Surely I'm more like the Wizard?

My money's on the Tinman, personally.

[POINTED LOOK.]

[RUDE.]

I'll have you know I've been told I have lots of heart.

[once. in high school.]

Hey, it was either that or the Cowardly Lion. Pick your battles, dude.

[Brandon scuffs one shoe against the floor.]

You survive the whole night of the living dead thing all right?

[Brandon if you keep doing these rapid fire subject changes someone's going to get suspicious.

LIKE TERRY, FOR INSTANCE. He's not entirely sure if it seems weird because he doesn't really know Brandon or if he's just really unused to conversation, but he's starting to get the feeling he's being kept at bay here.]

A few scrapes and a lot of bruises, but I got through it okay. You?

Mostly intact. I'm pretty sure one of the zombies ate a shoe, though.

[NO STOP BEING SUSPICIOUS HELP.]

[NOPE TOO LATE. Terry nods in reply, but he's pretty much decided something is up and he's sure if he was giving it his full attention he'd be picking up some serious anxiety over here. He fully intends to be brushed off (having worked a lot with people who don't want to admit to having Problems) but it probably wouldn't hurt any to ask. After a moment's pause he decides to just go for it, can't ignore his instincts and all that.]

Hey, look. I know it's probably not my place, but. [...] Are you okay?

[His expression falters a bit, a slight furrow between the eyes. Brandon just looks at him for a moment, hands jammed in his pockets, and then he rubs his cheek against one shoulder. Still not used to the whole facial hair thing.]

You asking as a therapist, or a dude who sucks at social interaction who just happens to be from my world?

[He considers the question for a moment ("sucks at social interaction" how dare you his social skills are at least passable,) since he can't really gauge which is which - although he doesn't generally put on the therapist pants until he's in his office - but really it's kind of hard to answer so he'll just... avoid doing so.]

Which one makes you less uncomfortable with a virtual stranger asking about your feelings?

[There are so many smart-assed remarks he could say to that. But instead, he just shrugs, averts his eyes.]

I don't know.

Do you want to talk about it?

[Read: You look like you need to talk about it so shut up and let me buy you a coffee.]

[Have you ever seen an animal trapped between chewing its own leg off or just laying down to die miserably?

That is pretty much the expression he has right now, and he sort of hunches in on himself like someone trying to become a smaller target.]

Not really.

[He holds up a hand to forestall any return commentary.]

But I know I probably should. Fine, Doc. You wanna shrink my head, give me a time and a place.

[He's not anywhere near enough of a martyr to actually like suffering on his own, okay.]

I don't--

[he was about to get all snitty about how he doesn't carry his planner with him to go shopping, but ultimately thinks better of it and cuts himself off because who is he kidding, his schedule is wide open right now.

Just give him a moment here to run through what he's got to do during the week in his head.]

How's Tuesday for you?

What, this coming Tuesday? As in 'three days from now'?

[He'd panic but

he's kind of trying to play it cool over here.]

Yeah, sure. Why not. I'll clear my busy social calendar.

I can push it back if you want? It's just the first day I know I have open.

No. No it's-- if I put it off I'll never do it.

[He eyes Terry, warily.]

You've got the whole non-disclosure clause, right?

[like he's said it a million times:] Everything is confidential, unless I believe you're a danger to yourself or others

[He rolls his eyes.]

If I was a danger to anything I'm pretty sure you couldn't do anything about it anyway, Doc.

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