[for eden]
Aug. 18th, 2017 02:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pylades_drunkGrantaire doesn't exactly smoke, although if attending recovery meetings started it as a habit, it'd be exactly the sort of irony he enjoys in his life. He doesn't exactly not smoke, either; it's a social sort of vice he isn't opposed to sharing with others, although if he has the choice between tobacco and other green things to calm his nerves, he'll smoke the latter.
Right now, there's the usual post-meeting clamor for caffeine and nicotine, and he stands in its wake, watching the attendees head appropriately far outside the building to smoke or stand around the coffee machine with styrofoam cups.
At first, Grantaire had left the meetings quickly after they were over, annoyed that he couldn't do this on his own and eager to rejoin the real world, as he saw it. He hadn't wanted to associate with other alcoholics, other people whose struggles reminded him of his failures. But months in, he's realizing more and more that some of the people here have more in common with him than some of those he'd befriended before he went sober.
He leans on the brick, tapping his fingers on his own cup, slightly over-roasted coffee an excuse more than anything else to linger. He etches a line with his fingernail into the side. He isn't always good at befriending new people, but he likes being around them. The meetings encourage disclosure; it's easy to feel close. It's not unlike the Amis, in a way: a very specific circumstance and set of people who he's found common ground with.
He glances over as a young woman comes through the door. Eden. He's seen her quite a bit around here, and though they haven't spoken much outside the meeting, he likes what he knows of her.
Offering a sideways smile, Grantaire raises his cup to her in hello.
Right now, there's the usual post-meeting clamor for caffeine and nicotine, and he stands in its wake, watching the attendees head appropriately far outside the building to smoke or stand around the coffee machine with styrofoam cups.
At first, Grantaire had left the meetings quickly after they were over, annoyed that he couldn't do this on his own and eager to rejoin the real world, as he saw it. He hadn't wanted to associate with other alcoholics, other people whose struggles reminded him of his failures. But months in, he's realizing more and more that some of the people here have more in common with him than some of those he'd befriended before he went sober.
He leans on the brick, tapping his fingers on his own cup, slightly over-roasted coffee an excuse more than anything else to linger. He etches a line with his fingernail into the side. He isn't always good at befriending new people, but he likes being around them. The meetings encourage disclosure; it's easy to feel close. It's not unlike the Amis, in a way: a very specific circumstance and set of people who he's found common ground with.
He glances over as a young woman comes through the door. Eden. He's seen her quite a bit around here, and though they haven't spoken much outside the meeting, he likes what he knows of her.
Offering a sideways smile, Grantaire raises his cup to her in hello.
