sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Post-Bunker Support Group

[MINGLE] Post-Bunker Support Group

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Town Hall & Inn
WHEN: 6 September 2018, Evening
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Warn on your threads, please. PTSD is probably a given.
NOTES: Support group mingle! If your character needs some support after the latest meta plot or just generally, send them on over to Town Hall. Also, feel free to do top levels having to do with signing up for a tube monitoring shift. Please let me know if you want a Mark thread, I have notifs off for the post.

So, I have been down to what we all seem to be collectively calling the Bunker. It is... something, to say the least.

For some people it feels like hope and for others despair, and I can honestly see both sides of it. Some people need to feel like they have some control, even if it's illusory — Having a puzzle to possibly solve makes them feel less adrift. For others, it's too much reality, or the perception of, anyway. I can't say I'm personally convinced by any of it.

See, I've been here since the start of whatever this is, with a group that's almost entirely gone now. It's been five months since we were birthed into this expanded world, and I don't know if it's any more real than the last. That isn't me putting on a tin foil hat, that's just respecting the environment. Mars was the same way: You do what you need to do to eke out a life, to survive or even thrive, but it's dangerous to think you have any real control. Everything can go to shit in the blink of eye, and then you're tumbling around in an airlock while your entire food supply is turned to dust.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying people should stop hoping to get home, stop trying to figure it all out. I'm just saying we might all be a little easier mentally if we could express how scary it is to know, deep down, that the rug can be pulled out from under us at any moment... And then to accept that feeling that way is okay.

With that in mind, after a little meditating during my daily work in the fields, I put up two notices on the blackboard in the South Village inn:

Volunteers to monitor the bunker tubes for new arrivals, please sign up for a shift on the paper on the bar.

That's one thing we can do, at least. Just the illusion of control, but still important to some people, and definitely helpful for anybody new.

Below that:

Support Group Tonight
Town Hall - 7:00 PM
Everyone Welcome

I don't know how many people will actually show — We've got a surprisingly stubborn, resilient group, in my experience. But even if it helps just one person, it's worth doing.

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I have no idea, Peg. Sorry.

[ His tone is more than a little apologetic. Steve wanders into rooms and catalogues all the exits and anyone who might be a threat. Looking for, and finding, sources of caffeine aren't as high on the list. Maybe once he's further along with this sketch, he'll go hunt a mug down for her.

Right now, though, he's peering across the space toward Watney, while flipping to a new page in the notebook. After studying the other man for a minute or two, Steve lowers his head and begins the preliminary sketch. ]

It's all right, I'd have asked for a stiff drink, but I've been here long enough to know that alcohol that can't strip paint is a hard find.

[She gives him a sympathetic look as she watches him sketch, leaning over enough to take stock of the fluid way his fingers move and it fills her heart with grief to think of how much she missed the simple things of watching him do this. He's here to offer support, but she's not sure she can ask for it, not without forcing him to talk about things that might be difficult for him.]

What do you make of the tubes? All that we found in the bunker?

Is alcohol even worth drinking if it takes like turpentine?

[ The answer is more than likely 'yes', but he is a painter. And very aware of how strong said alcohol would have to be to remove -- house paint. Probably. He remains quiet for a few minutes, thinking over the question while he starts shaping Mark's face on the page. ]

Don't know yet. Other than everything makes me a little uneasy, like some of the stuff we found in Schmidt's bases. Mad science of the not fun variety.

What about you?

That depends. If I'm looking to get so drunk I can't walk, turpentine does suit the job, doesn't it?

[She hasn't had that many low points, though, lucky her. Tea usually does the trick and when it hasn't, she's had enough good whiskey stored away that she rations like she's back in the war. When he mentions Schmidt, she feels her jaw tighten, not having thought of that awful man in some time.]

I've been here for two years. In that time, we haven't been able to find answers, but now, this seems like something. I hate feeling like this is us being led along, but....

[She gives Steve a wary look, hoping he understands her trepidation.]

Steve, what if we were supposed to find all this? What if we didn't actually do anything other than follow more breadcrumbs?

... Why would you want to get that drunk?

[ There have been a couple of times in Steve's life he wanted the forgetfulness that blind drunk brings. So naturally, he's now worried that someone close to Peggy died. Or something worse. ]

Then we make contingency plans as best we can and walk into that trap with our eyes open. Hopefully, it won't come to that, though.

[ He stops drawing, balancing pencil and paper with one hand, and lifts his free arm so she can scoot against his side. If she wants. Steve may have buried her shortly before arriving on the island, but she'll always be his best girl. ]

[She feels old, even though she knows that she's not.]

I've been here for two long years and people keep vanishing on me. Honestly, the drink is what keeps me going through some of the disappearances.

[His have been hardest on her, but there have been others that she needs the support for, when she feels like she can't bear losing another friend, only for them to turn up again. Her heart aches for his gesture and she finds herself shifting without even thinking about it. Pressed near him, near this warmth, she tries not to let it overwhelm her.]

Is this a prelude to you asking for another ride into dangerous territory, Captain?

[She can't help teasing him, but she feels like it's a safe groove to put herself in, because she doesn't have to think about all the times she's sat near a fountain, wondering whether he's going to come back to her.]

Oh. [ That's not something that he can tease lightly about. Instead, he waits until she's settled comfortably against his side and then lowers his arm so she's cocooned in its warmth. ] Peg, I don't know why I arrived and I don't know when I'll leave. But as long as I am here, my shoulder is available for leaning on. Okay?

[ The question produces a huff of laughter. It's not full-blown, but only because they both know that he's dumb enough to throw himself into dangerous territory, regardless of serumed abilities, if there's a threat to their community. ]

Not yet. Can I take a raincheck on that, Agent Carter?

[ This time, the small smile he offers her actually reaches his eyes. ]

It's all right. Honestly, I can't blame you for what I've begun to suspect is someone's sick idea of an experiment or a joke.

[It's one that she's not pleased with and it's not just with Steve. After all, having others be here and gone is hard, and having to restart is even more difficult. She'd made so much progress with so many people, only to lose it.]

It's a very good shoulder, you know. It was before Erskine's serum too.

[She gives him a fond smile, though she is glad to hear he's not about to charge forward just yet. It would be prudent to get more information and she thinks he knows.]

Just remember to take me when you dive head-first into danger. I'm always looking for a hobby.

Peg, I'm pretty damn sure I'd never hear the end of it if you weren't rushing into danger with me.

[ At the very least, it gets a brief laugh out of him. And, honestly, it is a funny idea. She's a spy. She'd probably know before he did if there was something dastardly -- in need of a thorough beating -- lurking out in the brush somewhere.

Plus, it's easier to think about than Erskine. His loss still smarts. ]

Thanks. You might be the only person who thinks that, besides Buck.

[ No, he really wouldn't, but mainly because she does hate the idea of being left behind and it did happen to occur frequently with the boys at the SSR. Lucky for her, Howard was always eager to use her help, but even that had come with conditions. ]

Good. You need some sense.

[ As if she's going to provide it. Honestly, Bucky is more likely to do that than either Steve or herself, but then, why would she ever want to resist a good fight? ]

Well, we're both of us very clever. I should imagine you know better than to argue two good opinions.

I've got enough sense.

[ No, he doesn't. Not about getting into fights.

She's right, though. Bucky has more sense than both of them when it comes to being willing to rush headlong into trouble. Especially if they're protecting others. ]

No, ma'am. I know better.

[ arguing? maybe. listening is a different discussion. ]

You have as much sense as you do willingness to fight, but I'm not sure the two balance out some days.

[Sometimes, the sense wins. Sometimes, the fight. Peggy knows that with her, it's her stubbornness in her beliefs and her refusal to back down from a fight once she's made up her mind, but then, she's also perfectly sensible.

Giving a soft huff, she gives him a disbelieving look at the 'ma'am'. ]

It's good that you've remembered your respect. Next time you're ready to rush into something that looks particularly juicy, drop by and find me. It's been too long since I've had a good fight.

[ Steve shrugs idly and adds a few touches to the sketch, then closes the pad and sticks the pencil behind his ear for safekeeping. ]

Everything balances out in the end, usually.

[ Or at least it's that thought that keeps him going. ]

And I'll try to remember.

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[MINGLE] Post-Bunker Support Group

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