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ANGST MEME

Sometimes we all want to play some angst and see just how far our characters will fall.

- Post your characters, name and series in the subject along with any preferences.

- Go to random.org and roll.

- Play!

1. just depressed.

Things are tough, you're feeling worn out, or whatever the case, you're depressed. You need help or someone else thinks you do anyway.

2. abandoned.

You were left behind by everyone you hold dear and now you're forced to see how well they've adjusted, how happy they all are while you're screaming inside.

3. sick.

Cold, flu, or something even worse, all you can do is lay back and let someone take care of you.

4. fight.

You've been fighting nonstop with the other person and it just keep escalating.

5. break up.

You're being broken up with and they won't reconsider... Damn.

6. separated.

For some reason, you've been separated from the other person for a long time.

7. kidnapped.

You've been held captive for how long now? Maybe they've been torturing you even, using your blood to write ransom notes, threatening to cut off fingers to send next, etc. Rescue is on the way though, right?

8. beaten up.

Just because someone didn't like you or maybe they wanted something you had, whatever the case is, you're coming home sporting some nasty wounds and bruises.

9. jealousy.

You just have this undeniable jealousy suddenly and you need to let it out.

10. cheated on.This goes beyond just suspicion and you have full on proof of what your lover has done. How do you handle it?

11. apathetic.

You're not sad, you're not happy, you just... don't feel much anymore. The sparkle of life has gone right out of you and you're just going through the motions now.

12. addicted.

Drugs, alcohol, whatever your drug of choice is, you can't fight the draw and you can't draw yourself out of the hole, but the other person is going to try.

13. bad romance.

You know this isn't good for either of you, but you can't stop now.

14. fear.

Nightmares, the feeling someone is following you, etc. You can't shake the feeling.

15. insanity.

You're seeing things and hearing them, waking up only to realize you've done things you don't remember or you're in a place you weren't before. You're losing it and you don't know what to do.

16. guilt.

It's eating you up inside and you have to tell someone about it now. You want to be punished and you won't take no for an answer.

17. loss

You've lost something dear to you.

18. wild card.

Combine some options or make your own!

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Just over the last five months. Ormond Sacker before that.

[Sherlock starts to tug at the bedding on the nearest bed. He's obviously weak from everything, but he refuses to sit still. His nose crinkles when he feels the 150 thread count quality of the bedsheet underneath the blanket, but he'll do what has to be done.]

But, I suppose that name will need to be retired, too.

[She snorts and emerges from the bathroom.]

Saw that one, too. Honestly, it would have stood out more if you weren't being pursued by extremely British people.

[She bends over the bed and starts tugging the bedding free, efficient and no-nonsense movements.]

It's because of the people I was being pursued by that I chose to maintain the flavour of British nationality.

[If he were being hunted by Americans, he would have chosen a more suitable alter-ego.

Once Joan's gotten the sheet free from the bed, he takes it and throws it over his shoulders, wrapping it around himself like it's a makeshift robe. He's going to need more help than before walking if she expects him to wear this sheet all the way out to the car.]

Well, it worked on me. Well enough that I wasn't sure it was you, at least.

[She folds the blanket up and carries it with her as she opens the door and looks around outside. It's a weekday, so the motel is all but deserted. There doesn't seem to be anyone out there.

She goes to the car, unlocks the doors, and puts the blanket in the back seat. She leaves the back door open and returns to the room.]

We need to do this quickly.

[Sherlock's clever enough to know that it would me much too risky to go outside on his own while Joan is setting up. The longer he's out in public, the easier it would be for someone to notice a grown man wearing nothing but a sheet. It's the kind of thing people would remember, which means it would make gathering information about which way they were travelling that much easier.

Instead, he simply makes his slow way over toward the door and then waits for Joan to come tell him it's clear.]

Yes, but not at the expense of my losing my balance. I'll set the pace; you can act as my crutch.

[She rolls her eyes, but she's not about to argue. She takes another look outside, and nods, putting one arm around his waist.]

Set the pace.

[Sherlock works one of his arms free enough from the sheet to hold onto Joan and he bunches some of the fabric up with his other hand to keep it from dragging on the ground. It's uncomfortable walking across the concrete and asphalt without shoes on, so it adds to the travel time. He's also making sure to keep his eyes out for anything out of the ordinary. Spies, scouts, potential ambush. Being abroad has made him almost soldier-like when it comes to viewing his surroundings. Sure, he'd get to his observations, but that has to wait until he knows there's no danger.]

Small child, second floor, third window to the left of our room.

[It's the only person he's found that's noticed them.]

[She turns her head and sees the girl, standing there behind the glass, watching them.]

Even if she did tell someone, I doubt they'd believe her.

[She helps Sherlock into the backseat of the car, makes sure the sheet is clear of the door, then closes it. As she heads back to the room to grab the wallet and close the door, she glances up at the window again. The girl is gone. Hopefully not going to call her parents to the window.]

[Sherlock helps when he can to get into the car, even though the extent of his help is guiding himself in the best angle and curling his legs in away from the door so she could shut it. He has the urge to look up and around, but the safest thing he could do right now is keep his head down and stay out of people's notice. Fortunately, another thing he's learned from his recent 'work' is to ignore impulse in order to be careful.

Being there in the car alone without being able to keep an eye out for Joan was discomforting. His hand twitched down toward his hip, knowing that there wouldn't be a gun there. They'd taken his gun when he'd been kidnapped.]

[When she grabs the wallet, she leaves in its place her cell phone. Sherlock's might be a burner, but hers isn't. She'll have to buy a prepaid phone at the Walmart.

She shuts the door and goes back to the car, looking around again and not seeing anyone. They've been lucky. As she opens the driver side door, she looks up at the windows of the motel. No faces that she can see.

She gets in, starts the car.]

You okay back there?

Fine. Just drive.

[Sherlock's uncomfortable; in dire need of sugar, electrolytes, and fluids; and feeling incredibly vulnerable due to his state of dress, lack of weapon, and inability to sit up and watch for familiar faces and suspicious behaviour. But, they're both alive and that's what matters.

Once the car's in motion, he rolls onto his back. He keeps his legs bent and leans them against the back seat.

Their plan is too thrown together. Too many loose ends that could end them hurt or dead, one of them being Joan going into the Walmart alone and leaving him in the car without any way to defend himself. Maybe he could plan around these things and come up with something more foolproof, but right now he's not feeling as sharp as usual. He works a hand free from the sheet and lifts it up to his forehead where he presses down with an irritable sigh.]

[Joan is well aware that this plan is far from perfect, that if things go wrong they can go very wrong. But she can't think of a better one. He needs clothes, food, fluids, and they need cash.

It's not long at all before she sees a blue and white WALMART sign in the distance.]

Pull that blanket over yourself.

[He should do it now and not when they're already in the parking lot.]

[From his position, he has a hard time seeing any of the signs. He figures that means they're approaching Walmart, so he works part of the blanket free from underneath him and starts to cover up. It'll be hot and he'll probably inhale too much carbon dioxide for his condition, but it's the only way.]

Stop talking to me unless you've brought that disposable mobile with you.

[He rolls onto his side to take up less space and look more like a natural pile of bedding. He digs out just a small downward facing opening to let in 'fresh' air.]

[Yes, thank you Sherlock, she got that. But it does remind her that they left his burner back at the motel. Probably for the best, but she'll have to buy one for him, too. Probably not here, though. If someone came asking, the people working here might not remember a woman buying a prepaid cell phone, but they're more likely to remember if she bought two.

She pulls into the parking lot, and parks at the far end of a row of cars. Next to a car, it won't attract any undue attention, but people will be less likely to pass by the car out here. With any luck, anyone who sees her walking to and from the car will assume that she's doing it for the exercise.

She grabs her purse, climbs out of the car, shuts the door and engages the locks, then heads to the Walmart. ATM first.]

[Once again, he's stuck waiting. He doesn't dare fall asleep, even though the chances of someone coming by to disturb him are slim and the likelihood of him surviving are not very much higher if he's awake compared to if he's asleep.

He's more worried about Joan than himself at the moment. She's the one out in the open. If his sources were correct, the group that lured him to New Jersey were truly going after Joan and capturing him had been a secondary goal to be achieved. It makes him twitchy to lie back and let the person he'd been trying to keep safe take the more dangerous role when under most conditions, he'd be more suited for it.]

((OOC: I'm not sure if you wanted an altercation of some sort or if we'd just like to get these two back on the road (and dressed, in Sherlock's case).))

[Joan is mostly aware of the danger she's in. Sherlock was, of course, the most recently hurt by these people, so her concern for him somewhat overshadows her concern for herself. But she does keep a lookout for people following her, or watching her, using reflective surfaces to monitor without turning her head and being obvious.

She withdraws five hundred dollars from the ATM, the maximum it will allow. Then she grabs a cart and moves quickly through the store. The phone first, since those are locked away and Joan doesn't want the other items in her basket to identify her at all. It takes longer than she likes to finally get some service, but once a bored-looking middle aged woman comes over, getting a phone is pretty fast.

Next comes clothing. Tagless t-shirts, the softest black trousers she can find in a hurry, a pack of silk boxers, a pack of black socks, a pair of brown loafers. Sherlock will be horrified by it all, she's sure, but she doesn't care at the moment.

Then groceries. Water, Gatorade, orange juice. Granola bars, potato chips. Apples and bananas. Bread and peanut butter.

The cart is full when she guides it to check-out. The cashier can't be much older than eighteen, and he's totally zoned out. He mumbles her total, she pays it in cash, he hands her change that she doesn't even bother to check before shoving it into her purse and heading out.]

((OOC: As you can see, I hadn't planned on Joan getting into trouble :) It's up to you if you want something to happen to Sherlock :) ))

[It only takes four minutes after Joan leaves him alone for the boredom to start sinking in. Well, the beginning of boredom for him is characterised by an over-active, unfocused burst of brain activity. He wants to get up (even if his body would protest) and do something. Find something to get his mind off of things. Exhaustion combined with this restlessness would make him moody and unhappy in the best of circumstances, but mixing that with the frustration of not being able to move since he's pretending to be an inanimate object is infuriating.

After twenty minutes, Sherlock's starting to feel anxiety on top of his boredom. He thinks Joan should be back by now - but that's just from a conservative estimated time frame. He can't rule out the possibility of mundane delays like long check-out lines (something he can't estimate without first seeing how many cars are in the parking lot. Something he would do if Joan isn't back out within the next ten minutes), crowded aisles, and the dreadful electronics section - he knows her well enough to think she'd get herself a mobile phone to replace the one she has linked with her identity.

Laying under the blanket is starting to feel too warm. Even though the temperature outside is well within jacket or light coat weather and he's accustomed to wearing a long coat during most of the year, he still doesn't like the smothering heat of too many blankets. ]

((OOC: I think he's had enough happen to him for now. Maybe something more can happen after he's had some recovery time.))

[Joan pushes the cart across the parking lot toward the car, deliberately insisting she stay calm. He's fine. She hasn't been that long, the car seems to have all its windows, he's not going to suffocate or bake in the car on a day like this. He's fine.

When she gets to the car, she keeps herself from checking on him, instead popping the trunk. She starts transferring bags from the cart to the trunk. With each movement back and forth, she shifts a couple things from bag to bag. By the time everything is in the trunk, she has one bag with clothes and the cell, one bag with Gatorade and potato chips. She picks up those two bags, opens the back door, and sets them on top of the blanket over Sherlock. She brings the cart to the corral, comes back and gets into the car, starts it, and heads out of the parking lot.]

[Sherlock freezes when he hears the sound of the trunk being unlocked. He'd vaguely registered the sound of the approaching shopping trolley beforehand and it doesn't take more than a moment for him to rationalise things. Joan is the only one that would first try the trunk and not the windows or doors. He relaxes and gives a relieved sigh, not moving the blanket from his face.

He doesn't say anything when Joan drops the bags on him and he stays perfectly still so they don't move around too much. His silence only lasts until she's in the car and closes the door.]

What took you so long? Stop to look at new shoes?

[Not that she can answer until they're on the road again.]

[She rolls her eyes, but holds her tongue until they're on the road. Once there, though, she lets him have it.]

Shoes? Seriously? I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume they hit you on the head back in that warehouse.

[She glances up at the rearview mirror.]

There's clothes, food and Gatorade in that bag. Eat and get dressed.

[He hadn't been serious about the shoes. It was the boredom and anxiety talking, but he doesn't explain himself because he feels that he doesn't need to. He sits up once he feels the car accelerate to a speed that he associates with the Interstate.

He opens up the first bag, the one containing the clothes. He looks through everything, upper lip twisting slightly because of the contents.]

If you can call these clothes.

[He sighs and starts to dress his torso first, since it's easier for him than the lower half while in the car. He gets a stare from a ten year old in a nearby car, but he doesn't acknowledge that he's noticed it.]

Just shut up and put them on.

[She glances up at the mirror again, but this time to look at the cars behind them. Grey Buick, white Mazda, blue BMW. She's pretty sure she hasn't seen any of them there before, and she remembers them so if they're still there a while from now she can start to worry.]

You'll want to start with the Gatorade. Get some fluid and electrolytes before the potato chips.

[Sherlock meets Joan's eyes in the rear view mirror briefly as he pulls the shirt over his head. He's going to try and will his way through ignoring the inside seams on the shirt in order to look more natural, but he could easily change his mind thirty minutes from now. Next is the package of boxers. He leans forward to work his legs through the boxers and struggles just a little to pull them up around his waist and to get everything settled.]

Gatorade and potato 'chips.' How health-conscious.

[He's just feeling grumpy from being left in the car alone for so long and he's taking it out on Joan. It will blow over once he's calmed down, but he still won't apologise for it unless she makes him later.]

[She shoots him a narrow-eyed glare in the mirror.]

Gatorade has fluid, electrolytes, and sugars. Potato chips are high in carbohydrates. They'll address your immediate needs, then you can move on to the apples and bananas in the trunk. And no, they're not going to get too hot, because we're going to have to stop soon, either for gas or to ditch this car and steal another one.

[She doesn't relish that thought, but if it keeps them alive, so be it.]

[Sherlock can tell now that he's struck a nerve with his attitude, so he just frowns but keeps his mouth shut for the moment. He averts his eyes away from the mirror and focuses all of his attention on getting the rest of a full outfit put on. The trousers are by far the hardest part for him, since it takes the most wiggling and effort to get them up and closed. It's enough to leave him slightly winded and he really hopes Joan doesn't notice that.

He chooses to grab for the Gatorade before putting on shoes and socks. It only takes about twenty seconds of effort before he's loosened the lid enough to open the bottle. He chugs down a third of the bottle without stopping for a breath.]

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Joan's going to have to pull the car over and hit him herself, isn't she?

It's quite possible!

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