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Oct. 30th, 2004 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
andrealyn posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ficinabottleTitle: Inventory
Fandom: Lost
Disclaimer: Not mine, failed to happen.
Summary: Sawyer does a bit of inventory.
i. sixty-two cigarettes
That’s all he’s got. He did a little bit of inventory assessment as soon as he’d gotten his stash together and he’d very carefully counted each cigarette twice, then three times, and then a fourth just to be sure. He smokes one a day now, so long as the cravings don’t kick in too badly. He wants to have enough until they leave this place, but a small piece of him is telling him that he’s going to run out far before they get out of this hell. He’s a realist, at heart.
Maybe he’s trying to slowly quit instead.
ii. ten mini-bottles of whiskey
It’s nowhere near enough to get him drunk. Hell, it ain’t even enough to get him tipsy. He’s seen people give him jealous looks whenever he unscrews one, but he still won’t give ‘em up. Finders keepers and all.
So he’ll drink them on occasions; like when he sneaks off to the jungle and has a reaaaal nice time of it out there, just him and the leaves. Or he’ll save it for the rescue boat. He laughs darkly as he kicks open another bottle of Jack, stark realism setting in.
The only rescue boat is the one he’ll hallucinate.
iii. a few condoms, neither here nor there
He laughed ironically when he plucked them from cold wallets. It’s not exactly like he’ll need them, but it’s a funny thought to think he might use them. He’s got a running list in his head, prioritizing each and every castaway (yeah, the Doc and the Pretty Boy and the Rock Star too. With just forty-six, you can’t afford to discriminate). So he keeps in with the stash and he keeps taking his list apart.
He wonders which of them might just amble over, all casual-like, offering to slip into the jungle and have at it. He wonders if it’ll be the one he wants.
iv. one sense of self-preservation
It’s the most important thing.
He’s not trading it in for anything.
THE END
Fandom: Lost
Disclaimer: Not mine, failed to happen.
Summary: Sawyer does a bit of inventory.
i. sixty-two cigarettes
That’s all he’s got. He did a little bit of inventory assessment as soon as he’d gotten his stash together and he’d very carefully counted each cigarette twice, then three times, and then a fourth just to be sure. He smokes one a day now, so long as the cravings don’t kick in too badly. He wants to have enough until they leave this place, but a small piece of him is telling him that he’s going to run out far before they get out of this hell. He’s a realist, at heart.
Maybe he’s trying to slowly quit instead.
ii. ten mini-bottles of whiskey
It’s nowhere near enough to get him drunk. Hell, it ain’t even enough to get him tipsy. He’s seen people give him jealous looks whenever he unscrews one, but he still won’t give ‘em up. Finders keepers and all.
So he’ll drink them on occasions; like when he sneaks off to the jungle and has a reaaaal nice time of it out there, just him and the leaves. Or he’ll save it for the rescue boat. He laughs darkly as he kicks open another bottle of Jack, stark realism setting in.
The only rescue boat is the one he’ll hallucinate.
iii. a few condoms, neither here nor there
He laughed ironically when he plucked them from cold wallets. It’s not exactly like he’ll need them, but it’s a funny thought to think he might use them. He’s got a running list in his head, prioritizing each and every castaway (yeah, the Doc and the Pretty Boy and the Rock Star too. With just forty-six, you can’t afford to discriminate). So he keeps in with the stash and he keeps taking his list apart.
He wonders which of them might just amble over, all casual-like, offering to slip into the jungle and have at it. He wonders if it’ll be the one he wants.
iv. one sense of self-preservation
It’s the most important thing.
He’s not trading it in for anything.
THE END
