Self-medication through alcoholism is a tried and true practice well into the 2010s if Joshua's anything to go by. The only way he can shut everything else the hell up and be happy for a few seconds at a time. The only way to drown the voices in his head. To convince himself he can still feel things that aren't a numb disassociation from his body or the crushing weight of despair wearing the faces of people he loves more than his own life.
He's sober now, nothing for it. There's not exactly a bar around here open to get drunk at and even if there was Josh can't do the work he's doing if he's falling off his speeder and putting his happy ass into a snowbank or worse. He's been alright so far, but sooner or later it's going to rear its head.
It always does.
"I'd be happy to have the help once this is all over." That crooked smiles comes back. The honest one. The one that's Josh's true smile. There all because of a hand at his shoulder. "For now though, I oughta get back out there. Expeditions won't do much if there's no leads on supplies to bring back."
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He's sober now, nothing for it. There's not exactly a bar around here open to get drunk at and even if there was Josh can't do the work he's doing if he's falling off his speeder and putting his happy ass into a snowbank or worse. He's been alright so far, but sooner or later it's going to rear its head.
It always does.
"I'd be happy to have the help once this is all over." That crooked smiles comes back. The honest one. The one that's Josh's true smile. There all because of a hand at his shoulder. "For now though, I oughta get back out there. Expeditions won't do much if there's no leads on supplies to bring back."