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be as the frog in the pond...
Sep. 21st, 2014 10:03 pmThe way Allison saw it, the whole situation really wasn't her fault. Not really. She was minding her own business, sticking to her tables...
...the guy never would have broken his wrist if he'd just stopped struggling.
Cracking one eye open, Allison peered at Duke, seated across from her on the deck of his boat. It was cold out, but he was stripped down to a wifebeater and seemed totally unfazed by the chill in the air that had her wanting to shiver even in the thermal top she wore over her workout clothes. The Persian rug they sat on was worn, but warm over the cold deck of the ship, and she could swear that she'd felt a tiny raindrop on the tip of her nose from the hazy clouds of early morning.
Mandatory yoga and meditation in lieu of anger management, a brand new rap sheet, and possibly getting fired...as handed down by her smuggler boss and his buddy, the nerve-dead detective, because Dwight didn't want to stick his nose into it.
Overall, life in Haven was good so far, specifically life at the Grey Gull. It was starting to feel like a second home to Allison after three weeks, and Duke...well, he was a strangely awesome boss, and a study in contradictions.
He gave her hours as generously as her schedule would allow, and it felt less like charity the harder she worked, because she was good at her job and the tips were great. He looked out for her, too, giving her the occasional ride home if she worked late, even having dinner with her when he picked up on the fact that she sometimes skipped eating on her breaks because she got too absorbed in finishing her homework.
According to Duke, Allison was a workhorse. According to Duke, she was too worried about responsibilities and expectations. And, according to Duke, he had a lot of experience in dealing with girls like that.
He was kind of obnoxious and a little overbearing...but he was also really cool and genuinely nice, and Allison liked him a lot.
Despite all that, day to day life was...too quiet. And the things that were happening, Troubles that affected the town...whenever someone came looking for him around the Gull or Audrey, the woman who lived upstairs, started racing around like a maniac, she was always stuck waiting her tables and taking orders rather than doing something to help. Day by day, it was starting to get to her, a constant itch under her skin she couldn't get rid of by running or working out or even taking her weapons out into the woods.
So, when a sloppy drunk got grabby faster than she could call for Duke...she'd reacted on instinct, and after that stuck to her guns just because it felt good. The guy had been ready to press charges, but some finagling between Nathan and Duke and a token word from Dwight left Duke responsible for her.
Hence the mandatory yoga.
"You know," she finally announced, closing her eyes again with a put-upon sigh, "I did gymnastics for eight years, and I have yoga DVD's I use to stay limber. The whole diving into my belly button and achieving nirvana thing? Not exactly my cup of tea." Opening her eyes, she regarded him with a playful little smile, then twisted to the side as she mimed drawing back an imaginary bowstring.
"If I want to meditate? I look for something to shoot. Now that's zen."
...the guy never would have broken his wrist if he'd just stopped struggling.
Cracking one eye open, Allison peered at Duke, seated across from her on the deck of his boat. It was cold out, but he was stripped down to a wifebeater and seemed totally unfazed by the chill in the air that had her wanting to shiver even in the thermal top she wore over her workout clothes. The Persian rug they sat on was worn, but warm over the cold deck of the ship, and she could swear that she'd felt a tiny raindrop on the tip of her nose from the hazy clouds of early morning.
Mandatory yoga and meditation in lieu of anger management, a brand new rap sheet, and possibly getting fired...as handed down by her smuggler boss and his buddy, the nerve-dead detective, because Dwight didn't want to stick his nose into it.
Overall, life in Haven was good so far, specifically life at the Grey Gull. It was starting to feel like a second home to Allison after three weeks, and Duke...well, he was a strangely awesome boss, and a study in contradictions.
He gave her hours as generously as her schedule would allow, and it felt less like charity the harder she worked, because she was good at her job and the tips were great. He looked out for her, too, giving her the occasional ride home if she worked late, even having dinner with her when he picked up on the fact that she sometimes skipped eating on her breaks because she got too absorbed in finishing her homework.
According to Duke, Allison was a workhorse. According to Duke, she was too worried about responsibilities and expectations. And, according to Duke, he had a lot of experience in dealing with girls like that.
He was kind of obnoxious and a little overbearing...but he was also really cool and genuinely nice, and Allison liked him a lot.
Despite all that, day to day life was...too quiet. And the things that were happening, Troubles that affected the town...whenever someone came looking for him around the Gull or Audrey, the woman who lived upstairs, started racing around like a maniac, she was always stuck waiting her tables and taking orders rather than doing something to help. Day by day, it was starting to get to her, a constant itch under her skin she couldn't get rid of by running or working out or even taking her weapons out into the woods.
So, when a sloppy drunk got grabby faster than she could call for Duke...she'd reacted on instinct, and after that stuck to her guns just because it felt good. The guy had been ready to press charges, but some finagling between Nathan and Duke and a token word from Dwight left Duke responsible for her.
Hence the mandatory yoga.
"You know," she finally announced, closing her eyes again with a put-upon sigh, "I did gymnastics for eight years, and I have yoga DVD's I use to stay limber. The whole diving into my belly button and achieving nirvana thing? Not exactly my cup of tea." Opening her eyes, she regarded him with a playful little smile, then twisted to the side as she mimed drawing back an imaginary bowstring.
"If I want to meditate? I look for something to shoot. Now that's zen."
