Rick Bradbury (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
waiting) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2013-07-09 02:53 am
waiting) wrote in capeandcowllogs2013-07-09 02:53 am
i’m not saying that I’m giving up
WHO: Rick Bradbury and OPEN
WHERE: Around and about the City, at various days and times.
WHEN: Anytime within the first three weeks of July.
WARNINGS: References to the events of New Vesuvius, and all that implies.
SUMMARY: The nightmare may be over, but it's going to take more than wishful thinking to forget it. Bradbury deals with the aftermath of New Vesuvius.
FORMAT: Quick.
[ Bradbury's routine since his arrival in the City is comfortably ingrained by now: wake up, roll out of bed, pull on exercise clothes and run a few laps. He barely needs to be conscious to do it. Normally, he's quick and efficient about it, because being Mitchell Hundred's personal chauffeur means that he has to be dressed and showered and ready to pick him up from Gracie Mansion at an hour most people are just starting to pull themselves out of bed.
Recently, though, he's made a point of avoiding being alone with Mitchell if he can help it. Meaning driver duty in the mornings gets rotated among some of the native members of the security team (because no one else is masochistic enough to stick to it on a daily basis) and meaning he's suddenly left with far too much time on his hands in the morning, and not sure what he's supposed to do with it. Trying to recalibrate his internal clock or his routine at this point seems stupid, but there's no reason to go in to work early, and he doesn't feel all that inclined to give Terry reason to ask why he's hanging around at home well past the time he's normally already at City Hall.
So, rather uncharacteristically, he finds himself hanging out in coffeeshops around the general area of City Hall, dressed for the job but killing time until he actually has to go in. He nurses cups of coffee that cost way too much and spends more time than he should picking out how to customize his order. Eventually, he figures he'll actually run out of options -- he draws the line at ordering iced coffee -- but he imagines he has at least until the end of the month before he works his way through all the add-ons to figure out if any of them actually make a difference in flavor. ]
[ When he finally comes into City Hall, Bradbury doesn't make a point of spending a lot of time in his office. In fact, he can be found just about anywhere but his office, checking up on how security detail's being planned around Mitchell's schedule (well into next year, at this rate), following up on threat and risk assessments, and speaking to members of his security team about how they can improve security inside City Hall as well as around it. He's not avoiding Mitch, he tells himself; he's just channeling his frustration into something more productive.
But there simply isn't enough work to keep him busy forever, and there's only so much productivity he can manage perching in the security room and keeping an eye on the camera feeds. Eventually, even he has to take his lunch, and when he does, he makes a point of taking it outside City Hall. There are habits to break there, too; instead of picking up lunch for his boss, he asks an intern or one of the members of the security team to do it.
He doesn't get a lot of sleep these days, so by the afternoon he's sacked out on his office's couch, crossing his ankles over one end and draping an arm over his face to block out the light. Not that much of it gets inside, with the blinds shut, but it feels appropriately histrionic. He leaves on time, with the rest of the employees, clocking out just like everybody else.
It doesn't feel right, but nothing else does either. So that's just fine. ]
[ With more time than he knows what to do with, Bradbury's evenings are relatively unoccupied, so he's forced to turning to different ways of spending his time.
The gym offers him the relief of unleashing the frustration that's been building all day, in a way that's relatively safer and more socially acceptable than punching someone else in the face. He doesn't work himself to exhaustion, but there's something satisfying about the rhythmic thud of his fists hitting the sandbag, body on autopilot. Sparring, he's less inclined to engage in -- there are too many bad memories associated with it, especially in the light of recent events -- but he can be persuaded into it.
When he's not hitting the gym, he can be found at the bar, even on his off-nights. He drinks alone at the bar, not with the steady dedication of someone looking to get wasted, but the lingering, absentminded pathos of someone who simply has nothing better to do in the evening. ]
[ Bradbury doesn't sleep easy, these days.
Waking up with his heart jackhammering in his chest and panicked breath wheezing out of his lungs is steadily becoming par for the course, too. It's probably too late to hope that his bad dreams don't wake Terry, but he slips out of the house without waiting for his hands to stop shaking, needing the fresh air to clear his head.
He runs until he can blame the sweat soaking his shirt on the exertion, instead of terror, but there's no running away from what's in his own head. ]
[ Lately, he feels angry all the time -- at himself, mostly -- and it's a constant hum of tension under his skin that he doesn't entirely understand. The restlessness drives him out of the house and onto the streets, at hours and places he normally wouldn't be, trying to figure out what he can do to relieve it. On other evenings, Bradbury simply stays home. And on the weekend, his time is his own. ]
WHERE: Around and about the City, at various days and times.
WHEN: Anytime within the first three weeks of July.
WARNINGS: References to the events of New Vesuvius, and all that implies.
SUMMARY: The nightmare may be over, but it's going to take more than wishful thinking to forget it. Bradbury deals with the aftermath of New Vesuvius.
FORMAT: Quick.
1. COFFEESHOP ( Morning )
[ Bradbury's routine since his arrival in the City is comfortably ingrained by now: wake up, roll out of bed, pull on exercise clothes and run a few laps. He barely needs to be conscious to do it. Normally, he's quick and efficient about it, because being Mitchell Hundred's personal chauffeur means that he has to be dressed and showered and ready to pick him up from Gracie Mansion at an hour most people are just starting to pull themselves out of bed.
Recently, though, he's made a point of avoiding being alone with Mitchell if he can help it. Meaning driver duty in the mornings gets rotated among some of the native members of the security team (because no one else is masochistic enough to stick to it on a daily basis) and meaning he's suddenly left with far too much time on his hands in the morning, and not sure what he's supposed to do with it. Trying to recalibrate his internal clock or his routine at this point seems stupid, but there's no reason to go in to work early, and he doesn't feel all that inclined to give Terry reason to ask why he's hanging around at home well past the time he's normally already at City Hall.
So, rather uncharacteristically, he finds himself hanging out in coffeeshops around the general area of City Hall, dressed for the job but killing time until he actually has to go in. He nurses cups of coffee that cost way too much and spends more time than he should picking out how to customize his order. Eventually, he figures he'll actually run out of options -- he draws the line at ordering iced coffee -- but he imagines he has at least until the end of the month before he works his way through all the add-ons to figure out if any of them actually make a difference in flavor. ]
2. CITY HALL ( Day )
[ When he finally comes into City Hall, Bradbury doesn't make a point of spending a lot of time in his office. In fact, he can be found just about anywhere but his office, checking up on how security detail's being planned around Mitchell's schedule (well into next year, at this rate), following up on threat and risk assessments, and speaking to members of his security team about how they can improve security inside City Hall as well as around it. He's not avoiding Mitch, he tells himself; he's just channeling his frustration into something more productive.
But there simply isn't enough work to keep him busy forever, and there's only so much productivity he can manage perching in the security room and keeping an eye on the camera feeds. Eventually, even he has to take his lunch, and when he does, he makes a point of taking it outside City Hall. There are habits to break there, too; instead of picking up lunch for his boss, he asks an intern or one of the members of the security team to do it.
He doesn't get a lot of sleep these days, so by the afternoon he's sacked out on his office's couch, crossing his ankles over one end and draping an arm over his face to block out the light. Not that much of it gets inside, with the blinds shut, but it feels appropriately histrionic. He leaves on time, with the rest of the employees, clocking out just like everybody else.
It doesn't feel right, but nothing else does either. So that's just fine. ]
3. GYM/BAR ( Evening )
[ With more time than he knows what to do with, Bradbury's evenings are relatively unoccupied, so he's forced to turning to different ways of spending his time.
The gym offers him the relief of unleashing the frustration that's been building all day, in a way that's relatively safer and more socially acceptable than punching someone else in the face. He doesn't work himself to exhaustion, but there's something satisfying about the rhythmic thud of his fists hitting the sandbag, body on autopilot. Sparring, he's less inclined to engage in -- there are too many bad memories associated with it, especially in the light of recent events -- but he can be persuaded into it.
When he's not hitting the gym, he can be found at the bar, even on his off-nights. He drinks alone at the bar, not with the steady dedication of someone looking to get wasted, but the lingering, absentminded pathos of someone who simply has nothing better to do in the evening. ]
4. PARK ( Midnight )
[ Bradbury doesn't sleep easy, these days.
Waking up with his heart jackhammering in his chest and panicked breath wheezing out of his lungs is steadily becoming par for the course, too. It's probably too late to hope that his bad dreams don't wake Terry, but he slips out of the house without waiting for his hands to stop shaking, needing the fresh air to clear his head.
He runs until he can blame the sweat soaking his shirt on the exertion, instead of terror, but there's no running away from what's in his own head. ]
5. OPEN (Any)
[ Lately, he feels angry all the time -- at himself, mostly -- and it's a constant hum of tension under his skin that he doesn't entirely understand. The restlessness drives him out of the house and onto the streets, at hours and places he normally wouldn't be, trying to figure out what he can do to relieve it. On other evenings, Bradbury simply stays home. And on the weekend, his time is his own. ]