IC Contact post

[rising_tide]

"Hey, it's Daisy. You know what to do."
 

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[proofofconcept]

Quentin accepted the glass a little reluctantly, and sipped at the juice slowly. The sharp taste was a little bit overwhelming to his depressed senses, but it was fine, he guessed. She was probably right that the sugar would help.

[rising_tide]

She unfortunately didn't have much else, just a couple beers and coffee. She used to try to keep milk, but it kept going bad before she managed to finish it by herself. Either way, she wouldn't take offense if he didn't want it. The eggs and toast, at least, should be pretty bland, other than some salt and slight butteryness.

It didn't take long for the room to smell faintly breakfasty, and for her too present him with a small plate of scrambled eggs that were kind of inconsistently cooked, slightly soft in some places and slightly browned in others, and some toast, which wasn't burnt. "Sorry, I'm not exactly a kitchen whiz," she sighed, leaning in to peck a kiss to his forehead as she handed him the plate. "You can get crumbs on the bed. I don't care."

[proofofconcept]

Quentin shifted so he could put the juice down on her night stand, then sat cross-legged with the plate in front of him. "I'll try not to," he said, mustering a bit of a smile for her. He seemed like he maybe wasn't going to eat, pushing the food around a bit for a minute, but then he pushed some eggs onto some toast and lifted it to his mouth for a bite. He still managed to chew in a depressed way, but. Baby steps.

[rising_tide]

Baby steps, indeed. Daisy settled down next to him, crisscrossed legs and a mug of slightly stale coffee cradled in her hands. "I know it's not easy and sounds fake, but...trying to eat, take showers, keep some semblance of a sleep schedule, go through the motions. It does help."

[proofofconcept]

Quentin rubbed a hand over his forehead, trying not to prickle at that. "Yeah, works great when you can manage it," he said, only sounding a little bit bitchy. "I've...been spiraling like this since I was twelve, I know how it works."

[rising_tide]

"I mean, okay yeah, depression, yeah, I meant specifically..." Daisy made a face and waved a hand vaguely. "The. Person you love. Suddenly not being there. Thing."

[proofofconcept]

Quentin felt a little less prickly at that, and he nodded. "Yeah. I, um. Know a little about that too." He thought of Alice and the long months she'd been gone. He thought of his dad. "Not as much, admittedly. But. On the depression thing, I've got a black belt."

[rising_tide]

"I self medicated with alcohol," Daisy admitted wryly, lightly swirling her half-empty coffee cup. "Alcohol and violence. And I, uh...you know that thing I can do? The quaking? I have bracers that help me focus it and keep it from, well. Hurting me. I didn't use them for months and I kinda...quaked a bunch of fractures through my whole ass arms." So you know, add some self harm to the terrible coping mechanism list. "Anyway...somebody should ask for a giant bottle of prozac, at some point."