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xp_logsBefore the plane takes off, Adrienne inadvertantly Reads something of David's and sees something that worries her.
Adrienne felt like she was sleepwalking as she approached Emma's jet. Now that it was all over, and the adrenaline had all been sapped away, there was nothing left in the tank. She hadn't been able to sleep in the hotel at all, feeling unsafe, and now she just wanted to sleep for a week. Completely drained, she misjudged the height of the first step up onto the jet and stumbled.
An arm shot out, catching the brunette’s elbow to steady her. “Not the time to fall and break your neck, Naked Lady,” David commented wryly, not letting go until they were both safely in the aircraft, where some of the other X-Force members were already settling themselves in. “Not to mention a tad anti-climactic, no?” "It would be, yeah," Adrienne answered with a tired chuckle. "Thanks. So what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get back to the city?"
Swallow some pills. “Shave,” he replied, not batting an eyelid as he ran a hand briefly across his thick beard. He ushered her into window seat and took the one next to her with a relieved sigh. In a matter of hours, they would all be returning to their apartments, glad to be alive. Even the unlikely event of LeBeau requesting a debrief would not detract him from his plans to knock himself out for a couple of days.
"Y'know, I kinda like my suit. I think I'm gonna keep it," Adrienne deadpanned, only the barest hint of a smirk giving her away. It was a joke, of course, since she had disposed of that ugly, evil thing the second she'd gotten it off.
“Frame it up, if you must,” David rolled his eyes, slouching in his seat and propping his elbow up on the armrest so that he could drop his chin on his palm. Despite the decent rest he managed to get while at the hotel, the dark rings around his eyes had not faded in the least. The borrowed-but-as-good-as-his jacket he wore slid open, and the tell-tale black of his shoulder holsters came into view.
"You look like crap," Adrienne pointed out good-naturedly, nudging him with her shoulder. "Even worse than when I told you you looked like crap a few days ago." She gestured at the shoulder holsters. "Smuggling the guns we got off the Magistrates into the country, are you?"
“And you look fresh off the runway,” David retorted, sitting up to pat at his sides at the reminder. “Damnit, I forgot.” It was a rare admission, coming from him, and he quickly shrugged off the jacket, fumbling slightly as he unstrapped the holsters and piled the guns on his lap. On Sunday, he had dismantled and destroyed the assault and sniper rifles he had used, but had kept the handguns as a safety precaution. If anyone noticed and minded, they did not bring it up to him. “It would make for a better souvenir than a mutate suit,” he mused, only half-joking as he waved them at her. “But I’m not too fond of British guns.”
"Hey, don't point those things at me!" she shot back jokingly, slapping at one of them. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten she didn't have any hand coating solution on, and she'd taken the glove offs off her hands when they were boarding the plane due to the dirt and smell that had begun to waft from it. Which meant when she touched the gun, she got a Reading off it.
He asked for amphetamines. Or caffeine pills. It was a long shot in an army camp. They gave him coffee. It was all he ingested that evening. He borrowed someone’s coat and slipped outside alone.
A dark figure huddled under a tree, wrapped in a thick jacket. One hand held a lit cigarette, shaking almost violently while its counterpart single-handedly and steadily dismantled the rifle. Then North put it back together before repeating the exercise. The cigarette burned down to the filter, fingers still shaking. But the other hand did not so much as twitch as it worked.
A tremor wrecked his frame and the last bullet in the gun went wide. His target, a brawny Magistrate, bared his teeth in a terrible smile, a sharpened standard-issue dagger in hand. He struggled to stay upright, fumbling for a spare magazine. The Magistrate stalked forward, mocking words on his lips as he closed in. With a snarl, he abandoned the firearm, throwing himself forward. Deft hands attacked a thick wrist, stealing the dagger, which Maverick immediately shoved through the enemy’s throat.
David lay collapsed beside the bushes, a pile of vomit by his head as he curled up into a ball and quaked. A single tear slid down his cheek and disappeared into his beard, undoubtedly from the pain from his finger. The abused digit was trapped in a fist, teeth sinking into already-bruised lips. It was all right, he could pull a trigger with his middle finger. Somewhere beyond the bushes, Adrienne could be heard calling out for her Zombie Roadkill.
Adrienne wrenched her hand away, eyes wide, feeling extremely guilty about what she'd just seen. He was obviously in withdrawal, signs blatantly apparent to the former addict. She was silent for a moment, figuring it wasn't any of her business what kind of shit he was into. He wasn't her employee, he wasn't her student. He wasn't her responsibility. And yet, that seemed like the old Adrienne's thinking. The Adrienne who didn't give a shit about others. And besides, she knew how close Layla was to him. And Layla was her responsibility. She'd seen how the withdrawal had affected his aim, had pretty much incapacitated him. What if something like that happened when Layla was counting on him for something? "How long's it been since you had a fix?" she asked him, quietly.
His countenance changed, subtly withdrawing from Adrienne although his body remained deceptively relaxed. Twin blue orbs, now sharp but unreadable, studied the woman seated beside him. “What did you see?”
Usually Adrienne was pretty damn good at reading people's faces and body language, but she was off her game today in a big way, what with everything that had happened, so she missed David shutting her out. "You asking for amphetamines," she answered without beating around the bush. "Not getting any. Having the shakes, throwing up. Look, I'm not going to tell anyone, I just... I get it. I've been there. Cocaine. So if you, y'know, need to talk to someone or whatever..."
But the man merely shook his head, an expression that could pass off as sheepish gracing his features. If Adrienne knew him any better, she would know that it was not a typical David North expression. “I don’t take them from recreational purposes. They’re usually used to jumpstart my powers,” he admitted, already preparing to stand. “I didn’t realise I was addicted until the withdrawal kicked in.”
"Well, at least you can admit you're addicted," Adrienne answered with the barest hint of a smile. "They say that's the hardest part. I like to think it's the shakes. I didn't even vomit so much, I guess because I wasn't eating much at the time, but the shakes... there aren't a lot of things that feel worse than that. There's, y'know, stuff like torture, but at least when you're being tortured you have the small satisfaction of knowing you aren't directly to blame, the way you are with the withdrawal. Right?" She rambled- well she rambled a lot, but mainly when she was tired or nervous, and she was both those things during this conversation.
It was kind of difficult to deny his addiction after he became clear he was going into withdrawal. But the shakes, the one-time vomiting, the fluctuating appetite and the interchanging exhaustion and insomnia was nothing compared to the fear of having someone find out his weakness and loss of control.
“Right,” North agreed dryly, unhooking the belt that held the ammo, and pulling himself up and off the seat. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine now, just really, really tired. And hungry.” He flashed her a faint grin, knowing that smiling any brighter would rouse her suspicions. “Give me a minute to dispose of these.”
"Of course you're fine, Ninja," Adrienne answered, smiling back brightly. She didn't care if she roused his suspicions. She wasn't fooled in the least, and made a mental note to let both Vanessa and Amanda know- Amanda for the work connection and because she was a great sponsor, Vanessa because she was his friend and Adrienne had no doubt she would tie him up in a closet the way she threatened to tie up Adrienne if he couldn't fight his addiction.
Adrienne felt like she was sleepwalking as she approached Emma's jet. Now that it was all over, and the adrenaline had all been sapped away, there was nothing left in the tank. She hadn't been able to sleep in the hotel at all, feeling unsafe, and now she just wanted to sleep for a week. Completely drained, she misjudged the height of the first step up onto the jet and stumbled.
An arm shot out, catching the brunette’s elbow to steady her. “Not the time to fall and break your neck, Naked Lady,” David commented wryly, not letting go until they were both safely in the aircraft, where some of the other X-Force members were already settling themselves in. “Not to mention a tad anti-climactic, no?” "It would be, yeah," Adrienne answered with a tired chuckle. "Thanks. So what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get back to the city?"
Swallow some pills. “Shave,” he replied, not batting an eyelid as he ran a hand briefly across his thick beard. He ushered her into window seat and took the one next to her with a relieved sigh. In a matter of hours, they would all be returning to their apartments, glad to be alive. Even the unlikely event of LeBeau requesting a debrief would not detract him from his plans to knock himself out for a couple of days.
"Y'know, I kinda like my suit. I think I'm gonna keep it," Adrienne deadpanned, only the barest hint of a smirk giving her away. It was a joke, of course, since she had disposed of that ugly, evil thing the second she'd gotten it off.
“Frame it up, if you must,” David rolled his eyes, slouching in his seat and propping his elbow up on the armrest so that he could drop his chin on his palm. Despite the decent rest he managed to get while at the hotel, the dark rings around his eyes had not faded in the least. The borrowed-but-as-good-as-his jacket he wore slid open, and the tell-tale black of his shoulder holsters came into view.
"You look like crap," Adrienne pointed out good-naturedly, nudging him with her shoulder. "Even worse than when I told you you looked like crap a few days ago." She gestured at the shoulder holsters. "Smuggling the guns we got off the Magistrates into the country, are you?"
“And you look fresh off the runway,” David retorted, sitting up to pat at his sides at the reminder. “Damnit, I forgot.” It was a rare admission, coming from him, and he quickly shrugged off the jacket, fumbling slightly as he unstrapped the holsters and piled the guns on his lap. On Sunday, he had dismantled and destroyed the assault and sniper rifles he had used, but had kept the handguns as a safety precaution. If anyone noticed and minded, they did not bring it up to him. “It would make for a better souvenir than a mutate suit,” he mused, only half-joking as he waved them at her. “But I’m not too fond of British guns.”
"Hey, don't point those things at me!" she shot back jokingly, slapping at one of them. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten she didn't have any hand coating solution on, and she'd taken the glove offs off her hands when they were boarding the plane due to the dirt and smell that had begun to waft from it. Which meant when she touched the gun, she got a Reading off it.
He asked for amphetamines. Or caffeine pills. It was a long shot in an army camp. They gave him coffee. It was all he ingested that evening. He borrowed someone’s coat and slipped outside alone.
A dark figure huddled under a tree, wrapped in a thick jacket. One hand held a lit cigarette, shaking almost violently while its counterpart single-handedly and steadily dismantled the rifle. Then North put it back together before repeating the exercise. The cigarette burned down to the filter, fingers still shaking. But the other hand did not so much as twitch as it worked.
A tremor wrecked his frame and the last bullet in the gun went wide. His target, a brawny Magistrate, bared his teeth in a terrible smile, a sharpened standard-issue dagger in hand. He struggled to stay upright, fumbling for a spare magazine. The Magistrate stalked forward, mocking words on his lips as he closed in. With a snarl, he abandoned the firearm, throwing himself forward. Deft hands attacked a thick wrist, stealing the dagger, which Maverick immediately shoved through the enemy’s throat.
David lay collapsed beside the bushes, a pile of vomit by his head as he curled up into a ball and quaked. A single tear slid down his cheek and disappeared into his beard, undoubtedly from the pain from his finger. The abused digit was trapped in a fist, teeth sinking into already-bruised lips. It was all right, he could pull a trigger with his middle finger. Somewhere beyond the bushes, Adrienne could be heard calling out for her Zombie Roadkill.
Adrienne wrenched her hand away, eyes wide, feeling extremely guilty about what she'd just seen. He was obviously in withdrawal, signs blatantly apparent to the former addict. She was silent for a moment, figuring it wasn't any of her business what kind of shit he was into. He wasn't her employee, he wasn't her student. He wasn't her responsibility. And yet, that seemed like the old Adrienne's thinking. The Adrienne who didn't give a shit about others. And besides, she knew how close Layla was to him. And Layla was her responsibility. She'd seen how the withdrawal had affected his aim, had pretty much incapacitated him. What if something like that happened when Layla was counting on him for something? "How long's it been since you had a fix?" she asked him, quietly.
His countenance changed, subtly withdrawing from Adrienne although his body remained deceptively relaxed. Twin blue orbs, now sharp but unreadable, studied the woman seated beside him. “What did you see?”
Usually Adrienne was pretty damn good at reading people's faces and body language, but she was off her game today in a big way, what with everything that had happened, so she missed David shutting her out. "You asking for amphetamines," she answered without beating around the bush. "Not getting any. Having the shakes, throwing up. Look, I'm not going to tell anyone, I just... I get it. I've been there. Cocaine. So if you, y'know, need to talk to someone or whatever..."
But the man merely shook his head, an expression that could pass off as sheepish gracing his features. If Adrienne knew him any better, she would know that it was not a typical David North expression. “I don’t take them from recreational purposes. They’re usually used to jumpstart my powers,” he admitted, already preparing to stand. “I didn’t realise I was addicted until the withdrawal kicked in.”
"Well, at least you can admit you're addicted," Adrienne answered with the barest hint of a smile. "They say that's the hardest part. I like to think it's the shakes. I didn't even vomit so much, I guess because I wasn't eating much at the time, but the shakes... there aren't a lot of things that feel worse than that. There's, y'know, stuff like torture, but at least when you're being tortured you have the small satisfaction of knowing you aren't directly to blame, the way you are with the withdrawal. Right?" She rambled- well she rambled a lot, but mainly when she was tired or nervous, and she was both those things during this conversation.
It was kind of difficult to deny his addiction after he became clear he was going into withdrawal. But the shakes, the one-time vomiting, the fluctuating appetite and the interchanging exhaustion and insomnia was nothing compared to the fear of having someone find out his weakness and loss of control.
“Right,” North agreed dryly, unhooking the belt that held the ammo, and pulling himself up and off the seat. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine now, just really, really tired. And hungry.” He flashed her a faint grin, knowing that smiling any brighter would rouse her suspicions. “Give me a minute to dispose of these.”
"Of course you're fine, Ninja," Adrienne answered, smiling back brightly. She didn't care if she roused his suspicions. She wasn't fooled in the least, and made a mental note to let both Vanessa and Amanda know- Amanda for the work connection and because she was a great sponsor, Vanessa because she was his friend and Adrienne had no doubt she would tie him up in a closet the way she threatened to tie up Adrienne if he couldn't fight his addiction.
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