I wanna drink until I ache

[confidentially]

Who| Jessica & Barbie ; Jessica & Open
What| Jessica stays high all the time and interacts with people.
Where| Various.
When| Anytime after Marius' death is announced.
Warnings/Notes| Barbie gets his own thread, anyone else is welcome to tag in with one of the prompts, or your own!

It's fair to say she's getting worse. Jessica's always been a partier, anyone who knows her knows this. But lately, everything's gotten out of control. She's out at all hours dancing her life away. And when she isn't dancing, she's boozing it up, worse than she ever did before. She's distracted, unfocused, and beyond that, the only emotion she feels much of is anger. And it's far better to numb away the anger than to act on it. Even little things like shopping or getting her hair done seem hollow and pleasureless. It's upsetting. It's unnerving. And she'd much rather be drunk, thank you very much.

A ; Training

Drunk or not, a girl still has to look good if she's going to maintain her status as a high profile model and celebrity Victor. Her fortunes may have fallen, but she's got a body to keep up, so in spite of her excess, she's still up by noon and engaged in her work out routine.

B ; Shopping

Her pain can sometimes be alleviated with a new outfit or purse, and as a trendsetter, it's important that she still make some public appearances from time to time. Generally, she's quite easy to spot in her oversized diamond shaped sunglasses, blonde hair piled up, decked out in something eye catching and daring. Jessica is an attention-getter, not one to be ignored, and even on days where she feels like crap, she's going to catch people's eyes.

C ; D3 Suite

She feels most at home in the D3 suite. It's really the only place she has left anymore, as the only known living Victor of District 3. There's no mistaking that the suite is her territory; her belongings are everywhere throughout, and besides that, her image is all over magazines which litter the tables and countertops, as though her Tributes need to be reminded that their mentor is a bonafide superstar. Also littering the common areas? Empty martini glasses, bottles, and a flask or two. Not that Jessica's bothering to hide her liquor consumption from her Tributes. It's not a secret she's got a problem. They'd have problems too if they were her.

Comments

C

[silberfuchs]

"You need to stop this." There's no preamble to Albert's admonishment. He's not even sure how he would start to do that gently and he's not inclined to considering Jet's discomfort with her constant drinking. For Jet it brings horrible memories of childhood, for Albert it brings worry that this woman he's considered a friend is going to destroy herself. Together, he can't keep silent.

Without ado, he begins picking up the discarded glasses and bottled. When the Avoxes do it, he assumes she can ignore them. When he does it, he makes a point of every tinkling of glass into the trash or sink being heard. "I'm putting a stop to it myself if I have to."

[confidentially]

It's not that she doesn't care. The whole reason she's like this is because she cares too much. Life would be a piece of cake if she only were a sociopath for real, instead of pretending to be one all the time. If only she were hard. If only she could stop her soul from bleeding. That's why she drinks, can't Albert see that? The only way to numb the pain is to dilute it.

"Don't." Her voice is steady, muffled against the cushion of the sofa where she's taken up residence for the afternoon. "It's a landslide. You can't stop it."

[silberfuchs]

"Watch me." He continues his clean up, piling bottle after bottle with finality, as if daring any more to appear. Finally, they're all out of the common area and a sizable bag is left sitting by the door, one Albert will take out himself once they're done talking rather than leave Jessica alone with it later until the Avoxes come for it. He doesn't trust her not to go digging through it for any bottles with liquid still in them.

That done, Albert moves back to the living area across from the couch, across from her, and folds his arms like a disapproving parent. "Call this an intervention. What do you have to say for yourself?"

He knows what, he know why she drinks, why she's sinking, which makes it easier to steel himself against what she might say.

[confidentially]

She'd watched him with silent bitterness, raging bubbling up under the surface. Who did Albert think he was, forcing his way in like this? Couldn't he leave well enough alone? Her depression wasn't hurting anybody. Everyone was fine. It was all fine. She just needed to be left alone to live what was left of her life.

"I don't have to justify myself to you." She stared him down, mask of perfection cracked from months of solid grief. "I don't have to justify myself to anyone."

[silberfuchs]

Her depression was hurting a few people, actually. Albert, who had to watch her slowly destroy herself. Barbie, who Albert can't imagine condoned this behavior and if he did Albert would have to have a talk with the man. Who knows, Albert could be wrong considering Jessica's boyfriend was also a Victor and held some of the same issues as his own mentor, though it's really the loss of District 3 that's triggered this descent into the bottle. But it does also effect Jet. Jet who's father was a mean drunk and took it out on him as a child, Jet who can't stand to be in District 3 sometimes now just for the smell of alcohol and litter of bottles.

Which, really, more effects Albert since Jet is supposed to be in 2 by the rules, but still.

"No?" He growls the word out, not meaning to be threatening, but certainly disapproving. He cares about her too much not to be angry, not to go for the throat so to speak. Gentleness hasn't worked, what else can he do? "Not even the dead? What would your sister think of you?"

[confidentially]

If he wanted her to lash out and attack him, he was certainly close to accomplishing his mission. Jessica's voice dripped with rage, disdain, and more pointedly, anguish. "My sister thought I was a disgraceful slut. My sister hated me. She hated me before the rest of you did. You wanna bring up the dead? Then bring them up! You don't know shit, Albert. You... none of you even gave a damn about them and none of you bothered to ask! My family was ashamed of me. My District was glad for the food, but I was too stupid and too eager to give myself away for them to want to claim me. So if you think you can pull on my heartstrings by conjuring up images of a happy little life back home before my world went to hell, think again. Elizabeth Wakefield was a saint. I was just her whore sister. Always have been, always will be."

[silberfuchs]

"Your sister loved you." His tone is quiet in the face of her verbal assault. "I met her, if you recall. An interview you set up. She spoke well of you. And as for Three, I know you had happy memories there, dancing on the beach and the like. You told me about them yourself and agreed that their memory would have to live through you."

His gaze hardens, none of the compassion he'd just been displaying in his previous speech to her at all present. "And here you are drinking away your life, killing them over again, and this time there's nothing to blame but your own actions."

[confidentially]

"They're dead. All of them. And nothing I say or do is gonna bring them back." Jessica stared at him, eyes hard and angry. Her voice was a growl, like an animal backed into a corner ready to tear apart whoever was poking her with a stick. "So spare me the lecture and get the hell away from me. Now. Get out."

[silberfuchs]

"Fine," he tries to reign in his patience again, tries to get a hold of himself and not crumble down every bit of rapport he'd built with his mentor, but her behavior is unacceptable. It hurts because of that rapport, because he's brought himself to care about her and even though he finds her to be too close to the Capitol to trust implicitly (nothing that's her fault but still regrettably true) he's working with the Rebellion in part because of her. When he'd first arrived, he'd wanted to just get himself and his friends home. Then that feeling was extended to other Tributes. Now? Now he's invested in the world, wants to see the Districts free and the Capitol taken down for the sake of the surviving people of Panem. For the sake of those who'd died in Three. For Jessica's sake.

And she's given up.

He leans over her, right in her face with what's almost a snarl and would be if he had no control at all, but he's reaching his limit now with this, angry that she can't be as strong as he's perceived of her in the past. "I won't lecture you, but I will remind you that you are alive and you do have people that care if you stay that way. Don't slowly drown yourself just to spite them."

[confidentially]

Jessica's cry erupted from the back of her throat, a sound of sheer agony. Slowly though, the scream dissolves into a cry. Her tears are so hot they just about burn her cheeks as the trickle down to her chin.

"You're wrong. You've got it all wrong. I've been drowning myself for the last eight and a half years, Albert. You just happened to come in during the final descent. I'm not crying for help. I don't want any of you near me. Let me go down with the ship. That's all I want. Fuck."

[silberfuchs]

He crumbles when she starts crying. He doesn't know what it is in him that when a woman starts crying in front of him, he folds like a bad hand of cards. Maybe it's sexist, but he can't leave with her in this state regardless of what she demands so instead he stands awkwardly in front of her, having stood up when she started to scream, unsure of what exactly to do with himself.

"I'm trying to..." He wets his lips nervously and kneels instead, so clearly out of his depth but care still there on his face regardless. "Jessica, I'm no good at this. You've figured that out by now, I'm sure, but I do know pain. I do. I've killed, I've seen death, everyone I've ever been close to has died at least once. Hell, I've died before ever setting foot in Panem. I know this feeling and alcohol can't fill it, dying is no release. If you don't want us - me - near you then... fine it's your choice, but make it in a positive way. That's all..."

He leans his temple against the arm of the couch, looking at her and wondering if he should go get Barbie. She always seems happier around him, calmer, and who is he to judge codependency when he's the exact same with Jet.

[confidentially]

All she could do was shake her head, not giving an actual damn about appearances for once in her frivolous life. Everything was a mess. Everything sucked. What was the point of denying the obvious anymore? She was gone, so far gone that she didn't think looking back would make a difference anymore. And she didn't want to look back Looking back could only do one thing for her: frighten her into changing her mind.

"Just go." She said hoarsely. "You've got an Arena to win. Now, go."

[silberfuchs]

He just sighs and stands at that, not so much giving up as letting it rest for now. It's not a battle, it's siege, and he doesn't have all the weapons he needs to break down those walls. He'll have to send a message to Barbie, the big gun.

"Alright," though he has no intention of winning, never has, and if Jessica were in her right mind he's fairly certain she would have had words with him in regards to that long ago. It's a conversation he's glad to have avoided, but not like this.

"I expect you here when I get back. This isn't over."