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The Price of Blood
- Thread starter Chordling
- Start date
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
After being stuck in quarantine close close to two weeks Miles was glad to be free and able to see the sky and breathe the fresh autumn air. To be free from the horrible hospital grade food and the constant supervision while also being under lock and key. It was rather chilly outside on the day of his release, only forty degrees Fahrenheit. In this weather Miles was wishing he had a sweater on him or a jacket, but he had none of that.
The clothes he had been wearing were burned and he had been given a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt to wear. The shirt was a too big for him, but it was all they had, Miles asked. H.A.V seemed to be sweeping by with surprise by them, and they weren't prepared for any of this. They had to just take things as they came. They had no knowledge they would be quarantining anyone until it happened.
The cold winds nipped at his exposed arms as Miles left the hospital, only to be greeted by the sight of camera's and reporters that seemed to be waiting for him. miles didn't know what to do except to just try and move past them. The cameras followed him and the microphone's were waved in his direction. Calls of his came rang from all directions, wanting him to talk to them, to explain what had happened or to say anything.
Yet Miles wasn't interested, he just kept going. There wasn't much to say, he didn't know anything that everyone else didn't already know. After a while most of the reporters gave up and decided to try inside of the hospital for various staff or doctors who would talk to them, all except one. She had long blond hair and was covered in makeup with a guy following close behind her, camera on his shoulder. "How are you feeling Miles?" The woman asked him, her microphone at her thigh level as she walked. miles found it odd, the camera wasn't even rolling and she didn't have her mic prepared.
"Could be better." Miles replied simply as he kept walking with the reporter duo close behind.
"So you're not healthy?" The reporter questioned intrigued by his response.
"Not warm." Was all Miles replied with, choosing to continue playing the questioning game.
"I know it's cold, but if you could spare a minute or two to talk, I'd appreciate it." The reported asked. Straight to the point. She didn't give up as fast as the other ones and it made Miles think about it a little. He stopped and turned to the duo before pushing his chin out towards the camera man.
"I'll do it for his jacket." Miles explained. The jacket would keep him warm during his walk home but there seemed to be some discussion about the matter. The two bickered back and forth, the man not wanting to give up his jacket and the girl wanting him to. "A ride then. It's fucking old out." Miles compromised.
That seemed to be something they could do and with an agreement the camera was turned on and her microphone was raised.
"I'm here just outside of the General hospital where Miles Irving was just released with a clean bill of health. Miles, can you tell the viewers what happened to get you in there?"
"I tackled a guy with that Blistering Death thing, they had me under quarantine."
"So you touched him and didn't catch it?"
"Basically."
"It seemed like a rather dangerous game to play, why did you tackle him, did you not know the risks?"
"I mean, I knew the risks -"
"Then why?"
"He was trying to infect people and was going after a child so -"
"So you had to act? Even knowing the risks to yourself?"
"I guess so."
The clothes he had been wearing were burned and he had been given a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt to wear. The shirt was a too big for him, but it was all they had, Miles asked. H.A.V seemed to be sweeping by with surprise by them, and they weren't prepared for any of this. They had to just take things as they came. They had no knowledge they would be quarantining anyone until it happened.
The cold winds nipped at his exposed arms as Miles left the hospital, only to be greeted by the sight of camera's and reporters that seemed to be waiting for him. miles didn't know what to do except to just try and move past them. The cameras followed him and the microphone's were waved in his direction. Calls of his came rang from all directions, wanting him to talk to them, to explain what had happened or to say anything.
Yet Miles wasn't interested, he just kept going. There wasn't much to say, he didn't know anything that everyone else didn't already know. After a while most of the reporters gave up and decided to try inside of the hospital for various staff or doctors who would talk to them, all except one. She had long blond hair and was covered in makeup with a guy following close behind her, camera on his shoulder. "How are you feeling Miles?" The woman asked him, her microphone at her thigh level as she walked. miles found it odd, the camera wasn't even rolling and she didn't have her mic prepared.
"Could be better." Miles replied simply as he kept walking with the reporter duo close behind.
"So you're not healthy?" The reporter questioned intrigued by his response.
"Not warm." Was all Miles replied with, choosing to continue playing the questioning game.
"I know it's cold, but if you could spare a minute or two to talk, I'd appreciate it." The reported asked. Straight to the point. She didn't give up as fast as the other ones and it made Miles think about it a little. He stopped and turned to the duo before pushing his chin out towards the camera man.
"I'll do it for his jacket." Miles explained. The jacket would keep him warm during his walk home but there seemed to be some discussion about the matter. The two bickered back and forth, the man not wanting to give up his jacket and the girl wanting him to. "A ride then. It's fucking old out." Miles compromised.
That seemed to be something they could do and with an agreement the camera was turned on and her microphone was raised.
"I'm here just outside of the General hospital where Miles Irving was just released with a clean bill of health. Miles, can you tell the viewers what happened to get you in there?"
"I tackled a guy with that Blistering Death thing, they had me under quarantine."
"So you touched him and didn't catch it?"
"Basically."
"It seemed like a rather dangerous game to play, why did you tackle him, did you not know the risks?"
"I mean, I knew the risks -"
"Then why?"
"He was trying to infect people and was going after a child so -"
"So you had to act? Even knowing the risks to yourself?"
"I guess so."
Last edited by a moderator:
Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
HAV Continues to Spread at Alarming Rates. Hospitals Struggle to Keep Up with Patients
Lauren Greenburg
The recent discovery of the new Human Abscess Virus (HAV) has health professionals confused and frightened.
"It is becoming very difficult for us to maintain healthy patients," one doctor, who wishes to remain anonymous, claims. "So many new cases have been coming in. Hundreds. Our hospital simply isn't big enough to fit every single patient we receive."
Health records now show that one in three patients among hospitals have been diagnosed with HAV. Just last month, health records showed that only one in every five showed signs of the terrible virus.
"Our hope is that people will begin to educate themselves about HAV," the doctor had spoken to us. "This virus is only transmittable through contact with open sources. The best way to protect yourselves and others is to be mindful of your surroundings. If you notice any symptoms of HAV, contact your doctor immediately."
Read more on this article on page 2.
Lauren Greenburg
The recent discovery of the new Human Abscess Virus (HAV) has health professionals confused and frightened.
"It is becoming very difficult for us to maintain healthy patients," one doctor, who wishes to remain anonymous, claims. "So many new cases have been coming in. Hundreds. Our hospital simply isn't big enough to fit every single patient we receive."
Health records now show that one in three patients among hospitals have been diagnosed with HAV. Just last month, health records showed that only one in every five showed signs of the terrible virus.
"Our hope is that people will begin to educate themselves about HAV," the doctor had spoken to us. "This virus is only transmittable through contact with open sources. The best way to protect yourselves and others is to be mindful of your surroundings. If you notice any symptoms of HAV, contact your doctor immediately."
Read more on this article on page 2.
"Ridicule," the French woman spat as she slapped the newspaper onto the desk in front of her. "Comment diable est-ce arrivé? Ces idiots ne savent pas qu'ils font," she continued to orate. She could nearly scream.
"Madame," a voice broke out from the other end of the meeting room. A finely dressed woman with short, blond hair who usually brought her superior her morning coffee waited near the door. "C'est un mauvaise temps, madame?"
"Ugh, non, non," she replied, and waved a hand to welcome the guest inside. "Mais Celeste, il est seulement sept heure et demi, tu ne dois pas être ici maintenant."
Celeste simply nodded and gave a gentle smile. "Oui, madame, mais, j'ai quelque chose je dois vous montrer. C'est au sujet du virus."
Immediately, the madame removed herself from her position and followed her co-worker down a long series of halls. "Est-ce que vous retenez l'incident vers il y a un mois?"
"Oui, bein sûr. Pourquoi?"
The two women stepped into another meeting room and stood before a large flat screen TV. Celeste had the device preset to the local news station. "C'est Miles Irving," Celeste began to explain as she witnessed her boss marvel at the scene unfolding through the television. "Il est l'homme qui sauve les autres à le station-service."
Et il n'est pas infecté?" the other woman questioned as she continued to stare at the strangely dressed man. She couldn't imagine how cold it must have been for him. Even she had to put on an extra warm jacket this morning before leaving her apartment building. Mais comment? C'est impossible."
Celeste shrugged her shoulders. "C'est ce qu'ils disent. Il peut-être un charlatan, mais qui sais?"
"Amène-le moi," the madame instantly demanded. "Je dois lui parler."
Celeste nodded her head. "Oui, madame, toute de suite.
"Et s'il vous plaît, plus léger pour la crème," she couldn't help but to add.
"Daccord, madame," Celeste agreed with a smile, then swiftly walked back down the long set of halls to fetch the two things her boss desired. The easier of the two being the man.
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
"You know, you're not a very good interviewee." The reported stated as she packed up her microphone and the man started placing the camera into it's proper case.
"Guess not. You're not backing out of the deal are you?" Miles questioned. The reported sighed and waved him to follow the two of them as the headed back to their van. It was good, the chill was getting to miles a miles a little, and he wasn't particularly excited to walk for an hour back to his apartment.
"Where are we going anyway?" The reported asked of Miles.
Miles arrived back at his apartment only fifteen minutes later, dropped off by the reporter and her camera man. The first thing he did was try the door, but it didn't open, which meant that his roommate wasn't there. The guy never locked the door when he was at home. With a frustrated grunt Miles dug around in his pocket and pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. They went through fire or boiling water or something he learned in order to decontaminate them. Fortunately he got them back and they still worked. He swung the door open as he pulled the key out of the lock and walked in, twirling his keys by the orange slice bottle cap he had connected to his key chain.
The place was a mess, but that was how he left it anyway. There was glasses with sticky residue inside of them on the coffee table in front of the couch, and the counter was filled with fast food bags and pizza boxes. Fortunately those were recent. The floor was covered in dirt and general mess. A blanket laying across the floor near the couch, chip crumbs and in some spots, spilled water or maybe just melted ice cubes.
The first thing miles did was walk right up to the refrigerator and opened it, then he opened the cabinets. It was all gone. his food was all gone. Eaten or stale. His roommate must have through he would be dying by now, so he ate Mile's food. Miles shook his head as he grabbed a bunch of celery from the fridge and peanut butter from the cabinet. Sure, the celery was his roommates, but the peanut butter was communal and besides, he at all of Mile's food.
He opened the draw of utensils to find it empty and seeing them in day old soap water in the sink. He thought about clearing a few off, but decided against it. Instead he just peeled stocks of celery off and dipped them into the peanut butter. He stood in the kitchen stuffing his face when there was a knock at his door. Miles opened the door with a stick of celery coated in peanut butter protruding from his mouth with a jar of peanut butter in one hand, and the rest of the celery in his other. "Hello?" Miles said through a mumbled voice.
It was a woman in a suit, short blonde hair. The woman looked surprised at first but replying to him. "Oh hello, I'm looking for Miles Irving." The woman said in a thick french accent. Perhaps he was from Québec, but that didn't explain why she was looking for him.
"I'm Miles Irving." Miles said as the celery bobbed up and down in his mouth. He moved aside and motioned for the woman to enter the apartment. It seemed to take her a few seconds to comply. Possibly confused or trying to understand what the man was saying through the food in his mouth.
When she stepped in Miles offered her the celery and peanut butter but the girl politely declined. miles just shrugged and put the jar of peanut butter onto the counter and bit the celery in his mouth, holding it with his right hand. "Mister Irving," The woman started but Miles interuppted her while he chewed.
"Miles, please." miles corrected. He didn't like being addressed so formally.
The woman corrected herself before continuing. "Miles," She started with emphasis. "I'm here on behalf of Aubin Health Co. WE have an interest in your case." The woman explained. Miles looked at her as he chewed and when he swallowed, he just bit another chuck out of his celery stock and chewed away, staring at the woman.
The woman wasn't saying anything, which prompted Miles to speak up. "And...?" He said hinting he wanted her to explain a bit more.
The woman cleared her voice and continued. "We would appreciate it if you would come with me, there are people who wish to talk with you." She said, explaining the intent of the visit.
"Yeah, I'm getting that a lot right now." Miles said. The woman looked at Miles with a raised brow, signalling she was hoping for more then that. "Nah. Not feeling talkative really." Miles explained.
"You're the only person to ever come into contact with HAV and not catch it yourself, there must be something that-" The woman started but it was miles to interrupt her this time.
"Alright fine," Miles said, and it seemed to bring a sense of relief across the woman's face. "But, I want a burger, and fries. And a drink." Miles said as he went to put the peanut butter and celery away. "Don't worry, I know a place." Miles explained.
The woman seemed confused and agreed. "I'm sure my boss will appreciate you coming to talk."
Miles shrugged. "Sounds like you're boss is a hard ass, if your willing to get me a food over it." Miles said, but the girl just avoided looking at him or answering the question.
Miles followed behind Celeste as he found out her name was, through an office until they reached a closed door. "Wait here, I'll call you in." Celeste explained as she knocked on the door and walked in, leaving Miles standing outside of the door waiting. He had a brown bag with a burger and fries in it, and in his other hand a root beer in a plastic cup. He had been sipping away on the ride over. Miles figured he could eat as he talked to who he needed to talk with, and Celeste seemed glad hat he didn't want to stop and eat there before coming over.
After a short while Celeste called out for him to come in, and Miles obliged, Using his wrists to twist the door nob and awkwardly walk into the room. There was another woman inside. Long brown hair and in a suit sitting at her desk waiting for him. a chair was positioned across the desk from her which miles assumed to be for him. He walked over and sat down. He noticed a few papers on the desk infront of him and he pushed them all to the side to put his grease soaked paper bag onto before he pulled out the burger. "So you wanted to talk?" Miles said as he unwrapped the foil covered burger.
"Guess not. You're not backing out of the deal are you?" Miles questioned. The reported sighed and waved him to follow the two of them as the headed back to their van. It was good, the chill was getting to miles a miles a little, and he wasn't particularly excited to walk for an hour back to his apartment.
"Where are we going anyway?" The reported asked of Miles.
Miles arrived back at his apartment only fifteen minutes later, dropped off by the reporter and her camera man. The first thing he did was try the door, but it didn't open, which meant that his roommate wasn't there. The guy never locked the door when he was at home. With a frustrated grunt Miles dug around in his pocket and pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. They went through fire or boiling water or something he learned in order to decontaminate them. Fortunately he got them back and they still worked. He swung the door open as he pulled the key out of the lock and walked in, twirling his keys by the orange slice bottle cap he had connected to his key chain.
The place was a mess, but that was how he left it anyway. There was glasses with sticky residue inside of them on the coffee table in front of the couch, and the counter was filled with fast food bags and pizza boxes. Fortunately those were recent. The floor was covered in dirt and general mess. A blanket laying across the floor near the couch, chip crumbs and in some spots, spilled water or maybe just melted ice cubes.
The first thing miles did was walk right up to the refrigerator and opened it, then he opened the cabinets. It was all gone. his food was all gone. Eaten or stale. His roommate must have through he would be dying by now, so he ate Mile's food. Miles shook his head as he grabbed a bunch of celery from the fridge and peanut butter from the cabinet. Sure, the celery was his roommates, but the peanut butter was communal and besides, he at all of Mile's food.
He opened the draw of utensils to find it empty and seeing them in day old soap water in the sink. He thought about clearing a few off, but decided against it. Instead he just peeled stocks of celery off and dipped them into the peanut butter. He stood in the kitchen stuffing his face when there was a knock at his door. Miles opened the door with a stick of celery coated in peanut butter protruding from his mouth with a jar of peanut butter in one hand, and the rest of the celery in his other. "Hello?" Miles said through a mumbled voice.
It was a woman in a suit, short blonde hair. The woman looked surprised at first but replying to him. "Oh hello, I'm looking for Miles Irving." The woman said in a thick french accent. Perhaps he was from Québec, but that didn't explain why she was looking for him.
"I'm Miles Irving." Miles said as the celery bobbed up and down in his mouth. He moved aside and motioned for the woman to enter the apartment. It seemed to take her a few seconds to comply. Possibly confused or trying to understand what the man was saying through the food in his mouth.
When she stepped in Miles offered her the celery and peanut butter but the girl politely declined. miles just shrugged and put the jar of peanut butter onto the counter and bit the celery in his mouth, holding it with his right hand. "Mister Irving," The woman started but Miles interuppted her while he chewed.
"Miles, please." miles corrected. He didn't like being addressed so formally.
The woman corrected herself before continuing. "Miles," She started with emphasis. "I'm here on behalf of Aubin Health Co. WE have an interest in your case." The woman explained. Miles looked at her as he chewed and when he swallowed, he just bit another chuck out of his celery stock and chewed away, staring at the woman.
The woman wasn't saying anything, which prompted Miles to speak up. "And...?" He said hinting he wanted her to explain a bit more.
The woman cleared her voice and continued. "We would appreciate it if you would come with me, there are people who wish to talk with you." She said, explaining the intent of the visit.
"Yeah, I'm getting that a lot right now." Miles said. The woman looked at Miles with a raised brow, signalling she was hoping for more then that. "Nah. Not feeling talkative really." Miles explained.
"You're the only person to ever come into contact with HAV and not catch it yourself, there must be something that-" The woman started but it was miles to interrupt her this time.
"Alright fine," Miles said, and it seemed to bring a sense of relief across the woman's face. "But, I want a burger, and fries. And a drink." Miles said as he went to put the peanut butter and celery away. "Don't worry, I know a place." Miles explained.
The woman seemed confused and agreed. "I'm sure my boss will appreciate you coming to talk."
Miles shrugged. "Sounds like you're boss is a hard ass, if your willing to get me a food over it." Miles said, but the girl just avoided looking at him or answering the question.
Miles followed behind Celeste as he found out her name was, through an office until they reached a closed door. "Wait here, I'll call you in." Celeste explained as she knocked on the door and walked in, leaving Miles standing outside of the door waiting. He had a brown bag with a burger and fries in it, and in his other hand a root beer in a plastic cup. He had been sipping away on the ride over. Miles figured he could eat as he talked to who he needed to talk with, and Celeste seemed glad hat he didn't want to stop and eat there before coming over.
After a short while Celeste called out for him to come in, and Miles obliged, Using his wrists to twist the door nob and awkwardly walk into the room. There was another woman inside. Long brown hair and in a suit sitting at her desk waiting for him. a chair was positioned across the desk from her which miles assumed to be for him. He walked over and sat down. He noticed a few papers on the desk infront of him and he pushed them all to the side to put his grease soaked paper bag onto before he pulled out the burger. "So you wanted to talk?" Miles said as he unwrapped the foil covered burger.
Last edited by a moderator:
Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
Just briefly after Celeste had departed the business building, the french woman began to organize a space for their new visitor and gathered all the necessary documents for their case. Most of the things she needed were located back in her office. The specialized room was on the top floor, where she could see the best view of the city below her, and receive the most amount of natural light. Any visitor's attention would instantly be drawn to her leather throne. Her office had been designed that way of course. The seat was perfectly centered in front of a large, wooden desk, which surface was clear of any blemishes aside from a golden plaque that read, "Christine G. Aubin". Quickly, the brunette shuffled through the first drawer of her desk to fetch what she needed, then swiftly made her way back to the lower meeting areas.
"Where is he? Is he here?" she asked as she spoke with one of the many finely dressed gentleman in the building, one who wasn't quite fluent in French.
"Celeste should be bringing him this instant, Ms. Aubin," he informed. "Your meeting room is all ready prepared." Christine thanked the gentleman, then departed for her next destination.
Within the next few minutes, Celeste had returned with the desired subject and a warm cup of coffee. After confirming that everything was organized, Celeste called for the young man, then left the room. Admittedly the visitor did not seem pleased to be where he was. Christine attempted to restrain herself from scowling at the awful smell of his food and clothing, though she was sure her displeasure was given away through the slight bend in her eyebrows. The moment the man sat down, her documents were shuffled to the side and replaced with a greasy bag of American food. This time she couldn't help but raise the right side of her mouth into a smirk and curiously look over him as he spoke.
"Yes," she replied. "Miles, is it?" Christine continued. She didn't want to jump into the full situation just quite yet. Her goal was to work with the strange man before her, not to interrogate him. One of the many things her father taught her, get to know your allies first.
"Where is he? Is he here?" she asked as she spoke with one of the many finely dressed gentleman in the building, one who wasn't quite fluent in French.
"Celeste should be bringing him this instant, Ms. Aubin," he informed. "Your meeting room is all ready prepared." Christine thanked the gentleman, then departed for her next destination.
Within the next few minutes, Celeste had returned with the desired subject and a warm cup of coffee. After confirming that everything was organized, Celeste called for the young man, then left the room. Admittedly the visitor did not seem pleased to be where he was. Christine attempted to restrain herself from scowling at the awful smell of his food and clothing, though she was sure her displeasure was given away through the slight bend in her eyebrows. The moment the man sat down, her documents were shuffled to the side and replaced with a greasy bag of American food. This time she couldn't help but raise the right side of her mouth into a smirk and curiously look over him as he spoke.
"Yes," she replied. "Miles, is it?" Christine continued. She didn't want to jump into the full situation just quite yet. Her goal was to work with the strange man before her, not to interrogate him. One of the many things her father taught her, get to know your allies first.
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
The woman in front of him looked at his bag of food and smirked before replying to him. "Yes, Miles is it?" the woman said in response to him. Miles took a bit from his burger and chewed it while nodding his head in confirmation. while chewing the burger. Miles pushed back on the chair until the front legs were off the ground and he started a slow and gentle rocking back and forth as he ate.
He looked around the office, the walls, the desk, out the window, looking everywhere to see what there was about this person or where he was. There was a large window that looked down across the city, proving a great view as there was no other tall buildings in that direction, and with it facing towards the west it would get lots of light from sun raise till well past noon. There didn't seem to be any personal effects around, no pictures of kids or a husband, or anything that looked like it was out of place in the office.
Miles finally spoke up after a few more bites and some drinking from his beverage. "You must be Christine." The man as as he gestured at the woman's golden plaque using his half eaten burger. "You know," Miles started as he got off on a bit of a tangent. "I wasn't going to come by. But Celeste convinced me to come. You should give her a raise of something." Miles kept a straight face as he spoke. He wasn't serious, he just figured the girls boss would want to know she had done an exemplary job.
Seeing that Christine looked at his with the same expression as before Miles stopped rocking the chair and let it rest as he went to hand the burger to Christine, his brow raised, asking is she wanted a bite.
He looked around the office, the walls, the desk, out the window, looking everywhere to see what there was about this person or where he was. There was a large window that looked down across the city, proving a great view as there was no other tall buildings in that direction, and with it facing towards the west it would get lots of light from sun raise till well past noon. There didn't seem to be any personal effects around, no pictures of kids or a husband, or anything that looked like it was out of place in the office.
Miles finally spoke up after a few more bites and some drinking from his beverage. "You must be Christine." The man as as he gestured at the woman's golden plaque using his half eaten burger. "You know," Miles started as he got off on a bit of a tangent. "I wasn't going to come by. But Celeste convinced me to come. You should give her a raise of something." Miles kept a straight face as he spoke. He wasn't serious, he just figured the girls boss would want to know she had done an exemplary job.
Seeing that Christine looked at his with the same expression as before Miles stopped rocking the chair and let it rest as he went to hand the burger to Christine, his brow raised, asking is she wanted a bite.
Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
Christine did her best not to make any further faces as Miles perfectly broke every manner she was raised to follow. Thankfully, her attempts did not crumble when the man shoved his half eaten fast food in her face. The smell made her want to repulsively vomit, so she quickly removed herself from her seat in a manner that would be discreet enough to disguise her disliking.
"I want to discuss with you the events that have recently passed regarding our current health epidemic, HAV," she began after she cleared her papers of greasy contaminants. Slowly, she walked around the area, making sure she had her guest's attention. "I am very fortunate to have employees like Ms. Dionne," she referred to Celeste, "to help me handle matters of importance." Christine paused briefly to look through the documents she had in her hands, then made a quick glance back to Miles as he continued to lunch. She started to question why she even bothered to deal with people like him. He was probably part of some gang in a poorer part of the city. Someone who lacked education and culture and looked to cause trouble for attention.
Yet, somehow this man was important. Christine needed this man if she wanted to salvage her company. When her brief moment of contemplation ended, she started to speak again. "Miles Irving, I hope that you understand what this world is facing is crucial. This virus has instilled trepidation among the people of countless countries during its short existence. It is my hope that this company will be able to devise a cure for all strains of HAV, and we may be able to, but only with your help." She turned to face Miles completely. "Do you understand?"
"I want to discuss with you the events that have recently passed regarding our current health epidemic, HAV," she began after she cleared her papers of greasy contaminants. Slowly, she walked around the area, making sure she had her guest's attention. "I am very fortunate to have employees like Ms. Dionne," she referred to Celeste, "to help me handle matters of importance." Christine paused briefly to look through the documents she had in her hands, then made a quick glance back to Miles as he continued to lunch. She started to question why she even bothered to deal with people like him. He was probably part of some gang in a poorer part of the city. Someone who lacked education and culture and looked to cause trouble for attention.
Yet, somehow this man was important. Christine needed this man if she wanted to salvage her company. When her brief moment of contemplation ended, she started to speak again. "Miles Irving, I hope that you understand what this world is facing is crucial. This virus has instilled trepidation among the people of countless countries during its short existence. It is my hope that this company will be able to devise a cure for all strains of HAV, and we may be able to, but only with your help." She turned to face Miles completely. "Do you understand?"
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
When Miles offered the food to the woman, she gently rose to her feet and patrolled the room, talking to him and explaining the situation. It sounded like a load of corporate lingo being tossed around and to Miles, it didn't really explain why he was here, just why she was here. While listening to Christine talk, Miles just spent his energy devouring his burger. It wasn't a very large one, and with the speed he was devouring it, he was on his last bite when Christine asked if he understood what she was talking about.
Miles shook his head yes, his mouth stuffed and almost overflowing. He didn't understand, at least, not where he came into this situation. From what he understood, the blistering death was called HAV, ad that the company this woman worked for was trying to find a cure. Miles swallowed quickly before replying with actual words. "Find a cure so you can profit off the desperate?" Miles asked as he grabbed a few fries to munch on. While Miles understood that people who make and find cures needed eat and provide for their families, he didn't have to agree with the way things were handled when it came to medicine.
What was getting to Miles the most was that he didn't know why he was here. How would he help them find a cure or vaccine or whatever they wanted with him? "So... How do I fit into this anyway?" Miles asked, trying to get clarification on the situation.
Miles shook his head yes, his mouth stuffed and almost overflowing. He didn't understand, at least, not where he came into this situation. From what he understood, the blistering death was called HAV, ad that the company this woman worked for was trying to find a cure. Miles swallowed quickly before replying with actual words. "Find a cure so you can profit off the desperate?" Miles asked as he grabbed a few fries to munch on. While Miles understood that people who make and find cures needed eat and provide for their families, he didn't have to agree with the way things were handled when it came to medicine.
What was getting to Miles the most was that he didn't know why he was here. How would he help them find a cure or vaccine or whatever they wanted with him? "So... How do I fit into this anyway?" Miles asked, trying to get clarification on the situation.
Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
Of course, that's what he thought of her as. Some businesswoman looking for a cure just for the money. Profit off of the desperate, as he had put it. Yes, this is exactly what Christine set out to do. So much infact, she had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes and revealing the obvious. So far Miles' reactions were not impressive. At least he had the decency to speak with an empty mouth.
It was ideas like this that sickened Christine. Many companies before her father's did exactly that. These business workers set out to complete missions solely for economic value without even considering product quality, and built the stereotype for future generations. In that moment Christine would have liked to strongly point out that her initiatives were not purely based around profit, and that she did infact like to benefit others, but there were other areas that needed attention first. He did ask her a rather important questions and opportunities to express her motives were bountiful in the near future.
"You, Mr. Irving, are a very unique case," Christine began to answer. "Somehow you have managed to naturally avoid HAV without any exposure to other, trialing vaccines," she continued as she flipped through the collection of documents. "We wish to retrieve several blood samples from you in order to aid our mission to discover a cure. Of course, you won't walk away from this empty handed. We are more than willing to offer you a sum of money for your service to our company. If your samples can push us closer to a cure, the amount of money given to you will be increased. Do you have any questions so far?"
It was ideas like this that sickened Christine. Many companies before her father's did exactly that. These business workers set out to complete missions solely for economic value without even considering product quality, and built the stereotype for future generations. In that moment Christine would have liked to strongly point out that her initiatives were not purely based around profit, and that she did infact like to benefit others, but there were other areas that needed attention first. He did ask her a rather important questions and opportunities to express her motives were bountiful in the near future.
"You, Mr. Irving, are a very unique case," Christine began to answer. "Somehow you have managed to naturally avoid HAV without any exposure to other, trialing vaccines," she continued as she flipped through the collection of documents. "We wish to retrieve several blood samples from you in order to aid our mission to discover a cure. Of course, you won't walk away from this empty handed. We are more than willing to offer you a sum of money for your service to our company. If your samples can push us closer to a cure, the amount of money given to you will be increased. Do you have any questions so far?"
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Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
Miles listened intently now that the woman had started explaining where he fit in the puzzle. She explained that he managed to avoid the virus despite exposure, and that they wanted blood samplings from him to test with and try to develop a possible cure. Generally Miles would be okay with such a thing, if it could help people and cure things it would be for the greater good. However, she was quick enough to continue that she would offer monetary reward for just agreeing to her task, and even more if they make progress because of his contribution.
"Do you have any questions so far?" Christine asked, promoting a response from miles. While she was talking Miles had been stuffing his face with fries, and had already finished them. Miles stuffed the trash into the brown bag and sat and thought for a moment. He did have questions, he was just trying to sort them mentally before he shared them.
"I'll do it." Miles said simply without any strong inflection in his voice. "So I guess my question is, are we doing this here and now?" Miles asked, trying to figure out where and when he would have to do these tests. Miles picked up his trash before standing and tossed it into the trash bin. He then noticed a grease stain on the desk. "oops." miles said quietly as he wrapped his hand in the shift he was wearing and started to rub the grease off of the desk.
"Do you have any questions so far?" Christine asked, promoting a response from miles. While she was talking Miles had been stuffing his face with fries, and had already finished them. Miles stuffed the trash into the brown bag and sat and thought for a moment. He did have questions, he was just trying to sort them mentally before he shared them.
"I'll do it." Miles said simply without any strong inflection in his voice. "So I guess my question is, are we doing this here and now?" Miles asked, trying to figure out where and when he would have to do these tests. Miles picked up his trash before standing and tossed it into the trash bin. He then noticed a grease stain on the desk. "oops." miles said quietly as he wrapped his hand in the shift he was wearing and started to rub the grease off of the desk.
Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
"No, my main headquarters are in New York City," Christine began to answer. "We will give you some time to get your things ready, then make a direct flight from Augusta. Once we arrive, you will come to my headquarters for a test to make sure you are actually immune to HAV." She stood before Miles as she slowly flipped through the thin stack of papers to double check there was nothing else she was missing. Her paper were mostly news articles and informative documents about HAV, but a few of them contained a bit of Mr. Irving's personal details. Where he lived, how old he was, an identification photo, those sort of items. While all of this information was important, Christine would make sure to delve herself into some deeper research. "If you have no further questions, you are permitted to leave, Mr. Irving."
While she waited for his response, she quickly ordered one of her employees, who had been standing in one of the corners of her office, to take care of the grease spot with a snap of her fingers before it stained her desk. The piece of furniture was made of quality, but it had seen many years and many coffee spills. Her father used the very same desk before he had handed the company to his daughter. Christine thought it was only morally right to preserve the article as best she could.
While she waited for his response, she quickly ordered one of her employees, who had been standing in one of the corners of her office, to take care of the grease spot with a snap of her fingers before it stained her desk. The piece of furniture was made of quality, but it had seen many years and many coffee spills. Her father used the very same desk before he had handed the company to his daughter. Christine thought it was only morally right to preserve the article as best she could.
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
Christine explained to miles that they would have to go to the primary office in New York, through a direct flight. Miles didn't enjoy the sound of that, but he already agreed. Meanwhile, as he tried to rub the grease off with his shirt he ended up just smearing it and making his shirt oily. "If you have no further questions, you are permitted to leave, Mr. Irving." Christine said sternly towards him. Miles just dropped her shirt and took a few steps back and turned to see someone waiting to show him out.
"Uhh... okay." Miles said as he walked towards the open door. "Sorry about the desk." Miles said as he parted.
Miles spent his free time filling a suitcase with everything he could. He wasn't sure how long he would be there for, and stuffed in all the clothes he could. He had to leave his collection behind, but he did pack some thing in a carry on, mainly his sketchbook and pencils. However it also had a spare set of clothes in case his luggage was lost. Getting through customs was quick and painless for Miles, they just waved him through and he went on his way, unobstructed.
When Miles finally got on onto the plane and found his seat, he was surprised to see they would be sitting in first class on the trip over. The seats were soft, large and spaced apart from each other. Though, Miles was less then pleased to see his ticket was associated with one of the window seats. Miles didn't do heights well, and planes made him very uneasy. He had never been on a plane before, but even the idea of a plane bothered him.
Now that he found himself sitting in a seat looking out of the window, that unease crawled its way to his chest, tightening it's grip around his lungs and heart. He wanted off. Thousands of thoughts flooded into his mind. How do these things fly? If it crashes, will he have any hope of survival? Why is everyone else so calm? How much training did the pilot take? What if he was drunk or tired at the wheel?
miles breathing grew stronger as he gripped the arm rests tightly. Miles turned to face Christine and ask her a question. "How long is this flight? Couldn't we have just drove? it's not that far." Miles spoke, but his quick speech and fidgeting probably gave away his concerns.
"Uhh... okay." Miles said as he walked towards the open door. "Sorry about the desk." Miles said as he parted.
Miles spent his free time filling a suitcase with everything he could. He wasn't sure how long he would be there for, and stuffed in all the clothes he could. He had to leave his collection behind, but he did pack some thing in a carry on, mainly his sketchbook and pencils. However it also had a spare set of clothes in case his luggage was lost. Getting through customs was quick and painless for Miles, they just waved him through and he went on his way, unobstructed.
When Miles finally got on onto the plane and found his seat, he was surprised to see they would be sitting in first class on the trip over. The seats were soft, large and spaced apart from each other. Though, Miles was less then pleased to see his ticket was associated with one of the window seats. Miles didn't do heights well, and planes made him very uneasy. He had never been on a plane before, but even the idea of a plane bothered him.
Now that he found himself sitting in a seat looking out of the window, that unease crawled its way to his chest, tightening it's grip around his lungs and heart. He wanted off. Thousands of thoughts flooded into his mind. How do these things fly? If it crashes, will he have any hope of survival? Why is everyone else so calm? How much training did the pilot take? What if he was drunk or tired at the wheel?
miles breathing grew stronger as he gripped the arm rests tightly. Miles turned to face Christine and ask her a question. "How long is this flight? Couldn't we have just drove? it's not that far." Miles spoke, but his quick speech and fidgeting probably gave away his concerns.
Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
It was very clear to Ms. Aubin that Miles was not comfortable. Out of all the research Christine had conducted before their trip on Miles, she would have never guessed that he was a man who feared air flights. She had learned that he only had a high school diploma, never applied to colleges, and that he went to rehab for drug abuse, but she never fathomed he was someone who felt anxious in the air. Of course, it was hard to gather those kind of details from professional documents. Mainly it was because these ideas were not professional, so why include them on something that is? Formality belonged on paper; familiarity belonged in person.
So, to say the least, she was surprised when Miles practically sent himself into a panic attack. The aircraft hadn't even left the ground yet, and he seemed just fine walking through all the terminals, almost as if he had been to airports before. Admittedly, Christine still found it frustrating dealing with all of the airport business. Though she had frequented buildings with similar environments, she knew well enough that there were certain standards to be met. There were several occasions where they happened to simply "forget" about the other suitcase, or somehow her ticket was not deemed valid by their 100% accurate scanning system. For these reasons she remained incredibly distant and tense while venturing through the airport. Hopefully it was not due to her hard nature that made Miles so apprehensive.
"It is a direct flight, it should not be too long," she attempted to comfort as she stuffed her carry on beneath her seat after pulling out a thick novel and a glasses case. "Driving would have taken much longer. With such an expanding health epidemic, we do not have much time to waste. Each minute is crucial. The sooner we can get you to my headquarters the better." Her reading materials rested in her lap as she turned her head towards Miles. "If it is any help, I use to get nervous before air flights. They are not as bad as you think," she tried to smile.
So, to say the least, she was surprised when Miles practically sent himself into a panic attack. The aircraft hadn't even left the ground yet, and he seemed just fine walking through all the terminals, almost as if he had been to airports before. Admittedly, Christine still found it frustrating dealing with all of the airport business. Though she had frequented buildings with similar environments, she knew well enough that there were certain standards to be met. There were several occasions where they happened to simply "forget" about the other suitcase, or somehow her ticket was not deemed valid by their 100% accurate scanning system. For these reasons she remained incredibly distant and tense while venturing through the airport. Hopefully it was not due to her hard nature that made Miles so apprehensive.
"It is a direct flight, it should not be too long," she attempted to comfort as she stuffed her carry on beneath her seat after pulling out a thick novel and a glasses case. "Driving would have taken much longer. With such an expanding health epidemic, we do not have much time to waste. Each minute is crucial. The sooner we can get you to my headquarters the better." Her reading materials rested in her lap as she turned her head towards Miles. "If it is any help, I use to get nervous before air flights. They are not as bad as you think," she tried to smile.
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
Christine explained to Miles that every moment was important and that a plane was much quicker then driving. Obviously it was quicker, that much Miles could figure out himself, he wasn't concerned about the time it took, but where it took place. He'd much rather be a foot of the ground then thirty thousand feet. "If it is any help, I use to get nervous before air flights. They are not as bad as you think," Christine said to comfort him. To be fair, miles knew a lot about planes, that they were statistically safer then cars and other things like that. He knew it was irrational. But as his gaze lingered out of the window, the fear gripped him once more.
Miles Started to fidget in his belongings and pulled out his book and pencil as he slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm down. "I know, I know. I'll just try not to think of it." Miles said as he flipped open his book and placed his pencil against paper. Yet the fear was there in the back of his mind, and his hand shook, he couldn't draw a straight line, there was no way he would make a drawing at this pace.
He placed the pencil into the rings of the books and turned his body as much as he could to face Christine. He thought maybe if he got distracted taking to her it might help him forget that he was in a metal pipe that was suppose to fly at hundreds of miles per hour, thousands of feet high. "So... How did a Quebec girl like yourself start working for a medical company here? You're a secretary or something right?" Miles asked curious about her. He didn't know much about Christine, and since they would be stick on this deathtrap for the next hour or two, they might as well talk to each other.
Miles Started to fidget in his belongings and pulled out his book and pencil as he slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm down. "I know, I know. I'll just try not to think of it." Miles said as he flipped open his book and placed his pencil against paper. Yet the fear was there in the back of his mind, and his hand shook, he couldn't draw a straight line, there was no way he would make a drawing at this pace.
He placed the pencil into the rings of the books and turned his body as much as he could to face Christine. He thought maybe if he got distracted taking to her it might help him forget that he was in a metal pipe that was suppose to fly at hundreds of miles per hour, thousands of feet high. "So... How did a Quebec girl like yourself start working for a medical company here? You're a secretary or something right?" Miles asked curious about her. He didn't know much about Christine, and since they would be stick on this deathtrap for the next hour or two, they might as well talk to each other.
Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
"France," she corrected after gently closing her book and placing it upon her lap. "And I'm the CEO," she smiled. Christine took no offense and she understood that people were not always versed with the business world. "My parents moved to the Unites States when I was very young," she began to detail, realizing that perhaps the only way for Miles to cope was to converse. He had tried sketching earlier it seemed, but the hobby didn't appear to bring him any solace. Christine always found reading to be quite relaxing. The current piece of literature she had in her lap was a romance novel. She discovered that reading fiction was best, be it scientific, historical, realistic, or of any other sub genre one could think of. Much of the business day was spent reading analytical documents. It only seemed fair to give herself a break every so often from the dry words and perfectly formatted texts.
"After the first few years my father began a business. He was CEO for about twenty years until he retired, then gave the business to me once I was out of college. I've only been running it for about five years now, though it feels like forever. When I was still studying in school, I was a coordinator of sorts." Christine really wasn't sure what to call it. She knew she was handling most of the business affairs at the time and that her father was all ready planning his retirement. "I would schedule all of the meetings around the building and make sure everyone was where they needed to be. My father's business had developed several other locations across the country by then." A stewardess suddenly interrupted their conversation with a cheerful voice and asked the seated travelers if they wanted to order any refreshments. Christine simply ordered a cup of coffee with a few creamers.
"And for you, sir?" the stewardess directed with a large smile. "Can I get you anything?"
"After the first few years my father began a business. He was CEO for about twenty years until he retired, then gave the business to me once I was out of college. I've only been running it for about five years now, though it feels like forever. When I was still studying in school, I was a coordinator of sorts." Christine really wasn't sure what to call it. She knew she was handling most of the business affairs at the time and that her father was all ready planning his retirement. "I would schedule all of the meetings around the building and make sure everyone was where they needed to be. My father's business had developed several other locations across the country by then." A stewardess suddenly interrupted their conversation with a cheerful voice and asked the seated travelers if they wanted to order any refreshments. Christine simply ordered a cup of coffee with a few creamers.
"And for you, sir?" the stewardess directed with a large smile. "Can I get you anything?"
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
Christine corrected Miles on a few things, to begin with, she wasn't Canadian, she was French. Secondly, she wasn't a secretary, but she was the CEO of the entire company. The first discovery was a bit of a quirk, but not strange. However, her being the CEO of the business shocked Miles a bit, he must have noticeably reacted with surprise. The woman continued by explaining a bit about how she became the CEO and how she ended up here. Her father started the company, and gave it to get when he retired. It made sense, and was quite simple.
"Oh, just some water." Miles replied to the flight attendant, which she responded by handing him a bottle of water. Miles opened the bottle and drank from it until the attendant had left.
"Woah, that's pretty cool." Miles replied to Christine's story as he scratched at his chin. "Yeah, I always picture CEO's are these chubby old guys in suits and stuff." Miles smiled at the woman who clearly didn't match what he expected out of a CEO. Miles twirled the bottle cap of the bottle around his fingers. "So like, did you always want to do this type of stuff?" Miles asked out of his curiosity of Christine, as well as to keep the conversation going.
"Oh, just some water." Miles replied to the flight attendant, which she responded by handing him a bottle of water. Miles opened the bottle and drank from it until the attendant had left.
"Woah, that's pretty cool." Miles replied to Christine's story as he scratched at his chin. "Yeah, I always picture CEO's are these chubby old guys in suits and stuff." Miles smiled at the woman who clearly didn't match what he expected out of a CEO. Miles twirled the bottle cap of the bottle around his fingers. "So like, did you always want to do this type of stuff?" Miles asked out of his curiosity of Christine, as well as to keep the conversation going.
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Chordling
Bardbarian, the Divine Chordia of Concordia
"Yes, I suppose so," Christine replied after a brief moment. She never really thought about it before. It just seemed like being the CEO of her father's company was her destiny, if destiny was something you believed in. Christine liked to think that everyone had a purpose in the world. For her these thoughts made life bearable enough during times whenever it seemed like the universe was against her. "Nothing else ever interested me, so it only seemed appropriate to take on my father's business," she smiled before taking a sip from the warm cup of coffee. Air coffee was never the greatest, Christine always preferred the stuff from large chains like Dunkin' Donuts or Starbucks, but it was better than nothing. She knew it probably wasn't good, but she needed her coffee. She took a large gulp. "It certainly isn't easy, but I don't think there's anything else in the world that I would love more."
Carefully she leaned over to fetch a few folders from her carry on as her coffee was delicately balanced in her grip. While she had Miles distracted from his fear of heights, she figured she could get a bit of work done before they reached the lab. "What about you, Mr. Irving?" she asked as she prepped all of her papers and pens. "Has anything ever interested you beyond a gas station?" She gave another light smile.
Carefully she leaned over to fetch a few folders from her carry on as her coffee was delicately balanced in her grip. While she had Miles distracted from his fear of heights, she figured she could get a bit of work done before they reached the lab. "What about you, Mr. Irving?" she asked as she prepped all of her papers and pens. "Has anything ever interested you beyond a gas station?" She gave another light smile.
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
Christine shared a bit about herself, that very few things seemed to interest her. However she explained that there was nothing else in the world she could see herself enjoying nearly as much. The idea that she actually enjoyed her job that much was a strange one to Miles. Was it normal for people to do so? Personally, Miles didn't like his job. He only did it because it paid and it was what he could get. He always heard that you should do a job you loved, but it didn't seem possible. He's always been told that 'You wont enjoy it once you start getting paid to do it.'. It seemed more like an impossible to achieve life goal.
Miles was brought out of his thought when Christine spoke up once more. "What about you, Mr. Irving? Has anything ever interested you beyond a gas station?" She asked. The question brought Miles a flood of memories and thoughts. What did he actually want in life...
"No." Miles quickly replied tossing the question aside. Yet he did remember things from his childhood that made his answer false. "Well actually..." Miles started before she shook his head and shrugged it away. "Nah, nevermind." He concluded, deciding it wasn't that important, and Christine likely didn't really care, she was just being polite.
The speakers came online and a flight attendant walked up to the front of the cabin to perform the pre-flight safety demonstration. Suddenly Miles was brought back to his reality. He was on a flight, heading up into the air to incredible heights and at incredible speeds. His heart began to pump quickly once more once he realized and he gripped the arm rests tightly as he tried to not make a scene and listen to the flight attendant at the same time. He very well might need the information she was handing out. He started to wonder if it was too late to turn back.
Miles was brought out of his thought when Christine spoke up once more. "What about you, Mr. Irving? Has anything ever interested you beyond a gas station?" She asked. The question brought Miles a flood of memories and thoughts. What did he actually want in life...
"No." Miles quickly replied tossing the question aside. Yet he did remember things from his childhood that made his answer false. "Well actually..." Miles started before she shook his head and shrugged it away. "Nah, nevermind." He concluded, deciding it wasn't that important, and Christine likely didn't really care, she was just being polite.
The speakers came online and a flight attendant walked up to the front of the cabin to perform the pre-flight safety demonstration. Suddenly Miles was brought back to his reality. He was on a flight, heading up into the air to incredible heights and at incredible speeds. His heart began to pump quickly once more once he realized and he gripped the arm rests tightly as he tried to not make a scene and listen to the flight attendant at the same time. He very well might need the information she was handing out. He started to wonder if it was too late to turn back.
Pineapple
The Rotten Fruit
In Rehab: First Meeting
Miles sat alone in a cheap chair, hunched over the table in front of him. He had his trusty pencil shaking in between his fingers as he struggled to keep his hand calm. His sketchbook was in front of him opened wide with uneven scribbles and many streaks from where an eraser had been smeared haphazardly across it's surface. Miles was having difficulty, the sketch didn't look anything like he wanted.
It was frustrating for him, he knew he could do it, had had drawn thousands of things in the past, but his hands were not working with him anymore. Instead they shook, he had difficulty focusing on the task at hand and his mind would wander constantly. He had a dire need encompassing his mind, no not a need. A want. That's all it was, nothing more then a want that his body desired, a want he can overcome. A want he would have to overcome.
It wasn't really a choice, being in a Rehab really restricted his access to drugs, even if he wanted them. Which he did. That was the point of rehab was it not? Miles had been at an all time low when he arrived at rehab and turned himself over. A choice that he found hard, and a choice that he regretted after a day. He wanted to be better, he didn't want to use. But right now, he really wanted to.
He talked with the Councillors, sat in circles and talked about things, and in his free time he tried to bury himself in art. Yet it wasn't working, his sketch looked nothing like he envisioned. Miles in frustration ripped the page out of his book, crumpled it into a ball and threw it away over his should dramatically. He hopes that if he started over it could be fixed.
As he stared at the black page, so too did his imagination draw a blank. He couldn't do it, he didn't see where to start or what he was even trying to draw anymore. He was pulled out of his concentration when he heard the chair across his table move and a woman sat down across from him. He had short brown hair, a strong, but feminine jawline and bright brown eyes. "What are you drawing?" She asked with a light french accent. in her hand was a crumpled piece of paper she had unruffled and was looking at.
"It's suppose to be an Angel." Miles said quietly as he tried to put the pencil to paper again but stopped when he couldn't get the shaking under control.
The woman looked at the paper confused and shrugged. "It doesn't look like an Angel." she said, which got Miles annoyed.
"I know. I know!" he said as he dropped the pencil down. "Can I help you?" He asked with anger in his voice, which caused the woman to lean back and focus on Miles now, leaving the paper on the table.
"How long?" She asked miles, who looked towards her confused. "How long have you been here?" She asked again, clarifying herself.
"2 days." Miles explained. The woman widened her eyes and shook her head up and down.
"Je ne t'envie pas." the woman spoke quietly. It was french, miles knew that, but he had no idea what he had said. "So you're new then. It's okay, it gets better with time." She said with a smile.
"It doesn't feel like it will." Miles said as he started rolling the pencil across the table while shaking his right leg rapidly.
"Trust me, you just have to focus on the things around you, it will help you concentrate." She said trying to help, but Miles just continued to roll the pencil back and forth under his palm. "Like, draw something you can see. Like me." She said as she struck a pose, her hands raised behind her head and her head turned to the side, a smirk across her face.
"Nah, I can't." Miles said, not looking up from the pencil.
"Of come on, I'm not that ugly." She said with a chuckle.
"I can't focus." Miles said which prompted her to reach out and held his hand and pencil still under her palm. Miles glanced up to see her leaning across the table towards him.
"There, it's easy when you have help. Now, want to give this a try or will you just give up again?" She asked with a more serious expression on her face. Miles took her words to heart, he had to try, he wasn't here to just give in.
Miles took two deep breaths before he picked up his pencil and put it against the paper, focusing at this woman's face, trying to find the contour of her face he will start with. "I'm Miles by the way." Miles said introducing himself to the woman.
"Jess." She replied before smiling. "Now, do you want me to pose again?"
Miles sat alone in a cheap chair, hunched over the table in front of him. He had his trusty pencil shaking in between his fingers as he struggled to keep his hand calm. His sketchbook was in front of him opened wide with uneven scribbles and many streaks from where an eraser had been smeared haphazardly across it's surface. Miles was having difficulty, the sketch didn't look anything like he wanted.
It was frustrating for him, he knew he could do it, had had drawn thousands of things in the past, but his hands were not working with him anymore. Instead they shook, he had difficulty focusing on the task at hand and his mind would wander constantly. He had a dire need encompassing his mind, no not a need. A want. That's all it was, nothing more then a want that his body desired, a want he can overcome. A want he would have to overcome.
It wasn't really a choice, being in a Rehab really restricted his access to drugs, even if he wanted them. Which he did. That was the point of rehab was it not? Miles had been at an all time low when he arrived at rehab and turned himself over. A choice that he found hard, and a choice that he regretted after a day. He wanted to be better, he didn't want to use. But right now, he really wanted to.
He talked with the Councillors, sat in circles and talked about things, and in his free time he tried to bury himself in art. Yet it wasn't working, his sketch looked nothing like he envisioned. Miles in frustration ripped the page out of his book, crumpled it into a ball and threw it away over his should dramatically. He hopes that if he started over it could be fixed.
As he stared at the black page, so too did his imagination draw a blank. He couldn't do it, he didn't see where to start or what he was even trying to draw anymore. He was pulled out of his concentration when he heard the chair across his table move and a woman sat down across from him. He had short brown hair, a strong, but feminine jawline and bright brown eyes. "What are you drawing?" She asked with a light french accent. in her hand was a crumpled piece of paper she had unruffled and was looking at.
"It's suppose to be an Angel." Miles said quietly as he tried to put the pencil to paper again but stopped when he couldn't get the shaking under control.
The woman looked at the paper confused and shrugged. "It doesn't look like an Angel." she said, which got Miles annoyed.
"I know. I know!" he said as he dropped the pencil down. "Can I help you?" He asked with anger in his voice, which caused the woman to lean back and focus on Miles now, leaving the paper on the table.
"How long?" She asked miles, who looked towards her confused. "How long have you been here?" She asked again, clarifying herself.
"2 days." Miles explained. The woman widened her eyes and shook her head up and down.
"Je ne t'envie pas." the woman spoke quietly. It was french, miles knew that, but he had no idea what he had said. "So you're new then. It's okay, it gets better with time." She said with a smile.
"It doesn't feel like it will." Miles said as he started rolling the pencil across the table while shaking his right leg rapidly.
"Trust me, you just have to focus on the things around you, it will help you concentrate." She said trying to help, but Miles just continued to roll the pencil back and forth under his palm. "Like, draw something you can see. Like me." She said as she struck a pose, her hands raised behind her head and her head turned to the side, a smirk across her face.
"Nah, I can't." Miles said, not looking up from the pencil.
"Of come on, I'm not that ugly." She said with a chuckle.
"I can't focus." Miles said which prompted her to reach out and held his hand and pencil still under her palm. Miles glanced up to see her leaning across the table towards him.
"There, it's easy when you have help. Now, want to give this a try or will you just give up again?" She asked with a more serious expression on her face. Miles took her words to heart, he had to try, he wasn't here to just give in.
Miles took two deep breaths before he picked up his pencil and put it against the paper, focusing at this woman's face, trying to find the contour of her face he will start with. "I'm Miles by the way." Miles said introducing himself to the woman.
"Jess." She replied before smiling. "Now, do you want me to pose again?"
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