log for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) mcgill_pride. |
[July 10, 2007 @ 6:21pm] |
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 worried |
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Nothing appeased Alice's guilt about the Wilson Situation. No amount of reading, or burrowing into John's chest, or sleeping, or swimming had assuaged the sick feeling in her gut. Meddling doesn't help. Should've just let the boys fight it out on their own. After another listless afternoon of folding and unfolding herself on her bed, she got up to get dressed. She didn't overdress - just a pair of jeans and the wifebeater she'd arrived with - and padded down the stairs to Wilson's room.
She knocked a few times on his door and stood back, half-hoping he wouldn't be there. She could go watch John jog, go read, go do anything but look like an idiot. But she figured apologizing would at least make her feel better.
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| Log for aneasyheart, DDHW. |
[May 14, 2007 @ 3:13pm] |
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mood |
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Alice was stretched out in a chair, feet up on one of the mahogany tables, turning pages with one red fingernail. She liked the library; it gave her a chance to not go completely stircrazy. If she was reading, she could at least escape a bit into her own world. Her free hand turned the stick of the cherry lollipop in her mouth, which was turning her lips faintly red.
She tapped her bare toes against each other as she continued reading. She'd never really been a Faulkner fan before, but The Sound and the Fury was holding her attention. She wanted to ruffle Quentin's hair. Alice was so absorbed in her book, she didn't notice when anyone else entered the library.
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For ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) dark_desert_hwy. |
[April 17, 2007 @ 8:32pm] |
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mood |
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 bored |
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Alice was in the library, knees to her chest and a cigarette in her right hand. She was flipping through a book of Beatrix Potter fables, smiling at old rhymes that had comforted her when she was a little kid. She hummed a little as she read, toes curling around the chair as she flipped the page. Lazy smoke rings flew up to circle the ceiling, and she smirked. She was proud of her smoke ring ability.
She didn't hear the footsteps until they were very close behind her, swinging around with a startled gasp.
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| DDHW Log for Cuddy: |
[March 18, 2007 @ 10:03am] |
Alice hated the hotel. She thought anyone would hate the hotel; it seemed to be the sensible reaction. However, there was one thing she loved about the hotel, and that was the abundance of really good tea in the dining hall. She went down the stairs, bleary-eyed but dressed, holding a hand up over her mouth to disguise an expansive yawn.
She padded into the dining hall, making her way to the tea. Her day never really started without a cup. She wondered if she'd run into anyone - the dining hall seemed to be a good place for it.
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[February 26, 2007 @ 6:19pm] |
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mood |
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 apathetic |
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She limped through the hotel lobby, hoping to avoid the Bellboy. She couldn't run right now, so encountering him was low on her list of things to do. She figured a nice hotel like this would have a bar, and wasn't dissapointed.
Still in what she'd put on while she was in New York, she pushed open the door. When she wasn't working, her dress was simple: jeans, a white blouse, her chin length brown hair pinned back with a barette. Her black ballet flats made no sound on the floor as she walked up to the bar. She didn't know John well enough yet to recognize him just by his backside. When she got closer, she saw the familiar stubble, and couldn't help a small smile.
"Hey."
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| I'm no one. |
[February 26, 2007 @ 1:15am] |
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mood |
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 lonely |
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She'd only been at the Hotel a brief while, so when Alice returned to New York, her things were still in her apartment. She sighed, laying down on her bed and staring at the ceiling. What the fuck did I have to come home to? She didn't understand the Hotel and didn't pretend to, but she did know what awaited her in New York.
An empty apartment.
A dead-end job.
Memories she didn't want.
She rolled over on her bed, pulling a teddybear to her chest and sighing. I only have twenty-four hours of freedom. What do I want to do? She went to her bookshelf, reading bits and pieces of novels like a starving man at a buffet, trying to ingest as many words she loved as possible. She took some money out of a jar - a poor woman's savings account - and shoved it all into her pockets. She walked down West 48th street, glad that her ankle had healed up a bit. It was still sore, but she figured walking would give it a workout. She consoled herself a bit by giving money to every homeless person she saw on her way to the club where she worked. She stopped into a convenience store for a pack of cigarettes, smoking as she walked. She checked her watch, sighing when she saaw the time. Noon. The club wouldn't be open.
She stood on a corner, tears filling her eyes. I got sucked into a crazy alternate universe, and all I want is to go back. How twisted am I? She ducked into an alley, sitting down and pulling her knees to her chest while she smoked. She practiced making smoke rings, stretching out. She figured she could get a bite to eat until a pub opened. I could always call Dan. She stood up, gritting her teeth. The thought had come from left field, unwanted and immediately rejected. I could also put a fork into my damn eye.
She had a leisurely dinner of pizza (if only because New York pizza wasn't something she'd be able to get anywhere else) followed by window shopping. She looked at her watch, and headed back in the direction of the club at five. She only had a few hours left.
When she walked in, most of the girls were just getting warmed up. The few co-workes she could call friends came over to her, wondering where she'd been lately. Alice made something up, knowing that telling the truth would only result in eyerolling disbelief.
You get a day of freedom from the Hotel, and all you can do is go to your apartment, eat pizza, and watch strippers. Alice went backstage and found the couch that all the girl stretched out on between sets. She laid down on it, balling her fists and willing herself not to cry. It was a losing battle, and she felt her eyes tear up. My life has always been about the people in it.
And right now there's nobody in it.
She grit her teeth, trying not to focus on the ticking of the clock that Venus kept in her locker. But it had a dual purpose, lulling her to sleep as well as keeping time.
She rolled over, grunting when a rock dug into her back. "Fucking - " She sat up, holding her head. Sand. I'm back. She sat up, dusted her jeans off, and walked toward the hotel. I want a drink. I don't even know what kind. But I want one.
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| Phone message for dark_desert_hwy |
[February 21, 2007 @ 11:30pm] |
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"Hey, this is Alice. Leave me one."
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