i pledge irresponsibly | krissy

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

winter 2026

THE CHURCH STEPS WERE ICE COLD UNDER Frankie's backside, but he didn't make any attempt to move. His skin had taken on a grey sort of pallor, something he hadn't shifted for edging on a week or two. The AA meeting was probably well on its way, but Frankie had turned up and couldn't bear to take the last step through the warmly lit entrance. There was a sign out front advertising a coffee morning, and a few pie-eyed stragglers ambling in late, but nobody had stopped to ask if Frankie was going in.

Frankie's attendance at the meetings had been mandated by two muggle therapists and a mind healer his parents had paid handsomely. A condition for his release from the inpatient facility that had cared for him after his largest 'breakdown'. But it had been years and he still hadn't been able to earn a chip beyond three measly weeks. Couldn't bear to be sober to listen to people whine about all the terrible things they had done while out their minds on cheap cider. It meant he had to keep coming back, past evasive stints and weeks of avoidance. Eventually, his parents would sniff out his lack of attendance and tattle to his mind healer, who would threaten to have him sectioned under a mental health act he had learned religiously in medical school. It was insulting, it was useless, and the coffee was always terrible.

Lighting up his second cigarette in tandem, Frankie's hands were shaking as he lifted it to his lips, thinking of Harper and how cold it was to be back living in his childhood bedroom, or Nell's sofa all over again. Absently, like coming out of a cold, hypothermic dream, Frankie realised there was someone standing in front of him. "Go 'round." He mumbled around the filter, pulling it free to spit a piece of paper from where it had stuck to a dry and cracked lip. When the figure didn't move, Frankie dragged his head up, blinking through the water that had gathered there in reaction to the sharp smoke rolling up from his nostrils. "I said go fuckin' round, I'm not going in."

kristine finch

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[kristine finch]

Kris arrived at her weekly AA meeting with plenty of time to spare. She was greeted by familiar faces as she set her belongings on her usual cold metal chair facing the door. After a couple of quick hellos Kris snuck out to smoke a final cigarette. She'd always be a feen for nicotine. Adorned in her tight black jeans, oversized striped jumper topped with a pleather jacket and Doc Martins, she was reminded it was too bloody cold to be a fuckin smoker.

Descending the steps, she noticed a tall unpleasant looking man (still) standing outside the doorway of the AA meeting. Seemingly going through an inner battle to walk through the doors of the church. It was a familiar sight. Something she had experienced firsthand exactly two years ago. At that time she wished someone would’ve assured her that everything would be okay when she felt so alone and lost. The man lingered around as she stared at the ground aimlessly. Peering at her watch, the meeting was about to start so it was her duty to close the door to keep the warm air in. Kris stubbed out her cig halfway and tossed it in the ash tray.

As she was going to ask the mystery man if he was going to come inside before closing the door, he snapped at her. Telling her to go fuckin’ round. His tone was rude, downright acidic, but Kris didn’t react. She didn’t know this bloke, or whoever pissed in his cheerios; he was probably just having a bad day. Kris obediently walked around the man toward the warmth that was seeping out of the open doors of the building where she could hear the meeting getting started. Kris closed the door, as she originally planned to do, but didn't go inside. Spinning on the heel of her foot with a squeak on the cobble stone, she walked over to the man who was sucking on another ciggie with a bloody lip. For some unknown reason she felt a desire to talk to him, though she had the impression he didn’t want to talk to her. Luckily, she was used to that in her line of work.

Digging into her pleather coats inner pocket to retrieve a hand rolled cig from a wooden cigarette case, she placed it between her lips and lit it calmly with a couple of slow puffs. After a silent moment she exhaled a puff of smoke before turning to face him, ”Are ya afraid of going into a church because you may combust?” she asked more conversationally in a light hearted tone, perching on the planter railing with her back against the wall. Kris took another puff, more inquisitive this time as she offered him a kind smile. Not quite sure what would come out of the strangers mouth next.

Galen Francis Ollivander

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

winter 2026

THOUGH HE'D GIVEN HIS BEST 'FUCK OFF', THE person standing in front of Frankie was not deterred. In fact, they didn't even appear to flinch. That was the problem with the altruistic alcoholic types, there wasn't a problem they didn't think they could fix. Frankie was not a problem, nor was he looking to be fixed. Cigarette hanging from pinching lips, he squinted through the smoke as the woman came into focus.

Standing before him was about five foot of pretty woman, a milk white face with the kind of pink smile that he'd have maybe offered to buy a drink if he'd been at the pub. He doubted she'd appreciate the offer, being that they were outside an AA meeting in-progress. No cross around her neck, nor habit atop her head, so she was either a member or a sympathetic ear. Frankie had no interest in either, but he still paused as she turned to perch on the planter two steps down from where he sat. Tongue darting out to prod at the broken skin that had torn in the cold from the sticky cigarette paper.

"Hm-" was Frankie's immediate response, cheeks hollowing as he stopped himself from snickering like a giddy little boy. She was funny, which was unfortunate. He plucked the cig from his mouth and rolled it between his fingers distractedly, giving his head a slow shake as he dropped his chin. Ash fluttered down from the glowing end of his cig and he watched it disintegrate against the cold ground before he lifted his head to answer, a smirk finding its way to the corners of his mouth. "Why, do I look flushed to you?" He patted the back of his hand against a cold cheek and leaned back, taking a draw as he did.

There was a moment where Frankie simply stared at the perching woman. His eyes flickering across her face, not in typical appreciation, but as if he were cataloguing her features. "I know you..." He muttered after a second, exhaling through the corner of his mouth. "You've been here before," He added, remembering that same swathe of curled hair, the kind of big eyes that almost always looked shiny, but not glazed. "You're not here for a chip are you?" He asked, suspicious but somehow still curious. 

kristine finch

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[kristine finch]

Kris smiled easily when he asked if he looked flushed, she didn’t answer because the answer was quite obvious. He surely didn’t look bright and bushy tailed. Kris exhaled a puff of smoke as he stated he knew her. Did he? The corner of her lips quirked into a curious smile, bobbing her head into a bob. Truthfully she had a terrible memory thanks to her years of drinking and substance abuse so she couldn’t recall the mans name or where she'd seen him. But one thing she’d never forget was a face. She was quite sure she’d seen him around Diagon Alley, or maybe somewhere else in the wizarding world, but she wasn’t about to out that secret yet since they were technically at a muggle function.

The man lightened up immediately after Kris’ combustion comment, which was a relief. He curiously, or was is suspiciously, asked if she was there to earn chips, a question she was used to now that she was clean. No longer looking the part of a sad, lost drunk. Shrugging calmly, ”No, I’m just here for the free coffee.” she answered in deadpan, gesturing to the rickety ‘Free Coffee’ sign in the dewey grass. After a moment she chuckled to herself. Her lips twitched into a smile, ”Just jokin’, everyone knows the coffee here is shite…” she whispered with no hesitation, stretching to ash the end of her ciggie into the ash tray she was perched next to. Kris felt entitled to the opinion since she was a self proclaimed coffee whore snob.

”I’ve already earned my chips, I’m a sponsor.” she revealed with a small smile as the imposter syndrome started to sink in. Kris took a generous puff from her cancer stick suddenly feeling the need to backtrack her steps. Opening her mouth, she took a breath and shut it suddenly. ”-Take the term ‘sponsor’ lightly, it’s only my first months so have no fucken clue what I’m doin here anymore..” she shared honestly with a laugh before extending her hand with chipped black nail polish. ”My names Kris.” she greeted with a smile, ”And you are..?” she asked sweetly but expectantly, genuinely wanting to know about this mystery man. 

Galen Francis Ollivander

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

winter 2026

THERE WAS NO IMMEDIATE ANSWER FROM THE woman, but she didn't look put off either. Frankie tried to decipher her expression from behind a plume of smoke, but realised he couldn't quite figure out what her intentions were. If she were trying to lure him inside like a cranky stray cat, she'd be waiting a while. Frankie had definitely made up his mind, he thought stubbornly, narrowing his eyes slightly as she seemed to consider her options before perching on a ceramic planter at the bottom of the steps.

Brows lifting, Frankie was about to call her out when she laughed at her own joke like some kind of terrible comedian trying to break the ice. "Now I was about to say you must be an old drunk," He snickered back, finding it weirdly non-threatening as he licked his dry bottom lip and eyed her with marginally less suspicion. "Only a good old drunk would drink that coffee, tastes like shit." His nose wrinkled, as if he wasn't a 'good old drunk' himself. And that was precisely why he knew just how bad the coffee was. Which also said more about her than it did anything else.

Frankie's smile faded at the confession of 'sponsor'. His head dipping as he dashed ash onto the ground between his spread knees. He didn't have much patience for sponsors, the kind of 'save me' bullshitters that his therapist was desperate to hook him up with. "And here I thought you'd stopped by for my sparkling personality," He sniffed, his grin a little stiff at the corners this time. But, she carried on valiantly, almost rambling as she tried to settle his stiffened spine by confessing how 'new' it all was. He was still suspicious, but there was something in her sincerity that stopped him from storming off. That, and his legs had started to go just a little bit numb.

"Frankie..." He admitted, lifting two fingers in a saluting wave where his free hand was braced on his knee. She was still smiling, still soft at all her edges and Frankie almost felt sorry for her. Clearing his throat, he sat back and leaned on one hand as he took another draw from his cig. "Word of advice, Krissy." He told her with a slight quirk of his mouth. "I wouldn't smile as much if you're trying to rope someone into your programme." He dragged the word 'programme' out with a lingering sarcasm. He had little faith in the system. "Makes us think you're up to somethin'." 

kristine finch

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[kristine finch]

Once Kris was done speaking she immediately had the feeling like she overshared with the man. Merlin, sometimes she was too much of a Chatty Cathy in an attempt to burrow her way into someones life and/or to seem relatable. The smile fell from the man lips at the mention of her being a sponsor as if she had committed a crime. Maybe she was supposed to keep that a secret in the beginning. She hadn’t really figured that stuff out yet since being a sponsor was so new. The man introduced himself as Frankie. How ironic, ‘Franklin’ literally meant ‘Free Man’ and he was obviously bound to his addiction, she thought to herself.

Kris flicked a bit of ash into the tray, cocking her head to the side when he stated she shouldn’t be smiling so much, stating it made her seem suspicious. Maybe he had a point…people in AA didn’t typically emit rainbows and sunshine. The comment caused her to smile though, melting into a more a more guilty smirk. Her eyebrows threaded together in a more inquisitive expression before her smile brightened into a more comical-manic look, ”Oop, you’re onto me…" her hazel eyes darted to him, staring at him intensely, wishing she would read his mind. "I’ve been plotting your map to sobriety and scheming how to get you through those doors with this two minute interaction.” she stated sarcastically, her tone playful as she held back a smile. He caught her off guard slightly but she wasn’t irritated, instead she puffed and watched the man curiously. He had a sense of humor which she appreciated. The easily flared temper, not so much..

Taking a puff of her cig, she inhaled and exhaled before continuing. ”Rest assured there’ll be no attempts to 'rope' you into the program, Frankie.” she assured him kindly. ”You’re always welcome to join at your own accord but I won’t waste my time luring people into AA who don’t wish to be here.” Kris stated in a nonchalant tone. As a former alcoholic, she knew how hard it was to lead someone to do something they didn’t want to do. They'd usually fail.

”You showed up today…so something, or someone, must be calling you here.” Whether that be court, family, or facility ordered. There were many reasons why someone would find themselves at AA.

Galen Francis Ollivander

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

winter 2026

SHE ALMOST LOOKED LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING person, Frankie thought sardonically. Sitting on the oversized planter with her legs stretched out and her skirt just high enough that it caught his eye every time she blew out a plume of smoke. She was too good looking to be punting for scummy alcoholics at a run down church hall. And yet, she appeared totally sincere. Horribly so, because it made Frankie feel a little bit bad for rallying so hard against her.

"Knew you were staring." He retorted with a quirk of his brows, smirking her a drawling tone of voice. He preferred that, he thought with admiration. She was quick to defend herself, making him look foolish for even thinking she had some kind of undercover machinations. "Figured it was for a better reason than that," He winked once, but shifted his gaze away in-case she thought he was totally serious. Frankie bet a girl like Krissy was hit on at least a half dozen times by every semi-conscious desperado that came to those pathetic meetings. He was nothing if not consistent. 

He eyed her in his periphery, taking a long draw from his cig until it was almost burned out. She had a face that was soft even from the corner of his eye. A stray curl of her brown hair falling into her eyes and catching on her cheek. The smoke made her almost ethereal in nature, but that could've been the beer talking. He rolled the filter between his fingers and couldn't fight the small smile that curled one corner of his mouth. Ash fluttering down between his knees as he sat in a thoughtful silence as she spoke. Her voice was honest, crisp and without the usual pandering.

"I don't show up because I have a choice," Frankie admitted, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he turned his head to look at her full on. Her face an open book he couldn't trust. "I show up because if I don't they'll threaten me with inpatient... again." The words were sharp as they landed, her honesty inspiring a kind of reciprocation he didn't want to give her. Unfortunately, it was that stupid, pretty face, Frankie thought resentfully. He dashed his cig out on the step between his legs and flicked the stub into the surrounding bushes.

"Are you gonna grass me up to Johnny?" Frankie asked with a tilt of his head. Johnny Benedict was the high-necked, grim faced leader of the volunteer-only AA meetings. He had a face pocked and gaunt the way that only senior, seasoned ex-users could manage. And he wore a cross around his neck that was worn to the brass by his fingers. He didn't talk bullshit, but he might as well have been talking in tongues when he tried to reel Frankie in by quoting the bible. He single-handedly ran most of the meetings. Except, apparently, when people like Krissy lend a hand. "I reckon he'd be quite happy to see the back of me," He joked semi-seriously, but his brow was furrowed as he watched her through a fringe of unkempt hair. 

kristine finch

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[kristine finch]

Oh, this Frankie fellow was a cheeky one. Kris enjoyed the banter he provided far more than she was supposed to admit. Come to think of it…he was quite cute past the lingering beer smell. Of course she’d find the guy rebelling from AA attractive. That was her luck.

Kris’ smile quirked as he retorted at her for staring. His quirk of the brows, tone of the voice, made her crack into a full smile. This bloke was funny, great craic. Taking a puff and allowing him to go on stating that he figured it was for a better reason than sobriety. Sometimes she wished she could say what she was really thinking, but she had learned to maintain a filter. Her head cocked to the side innocently, ”And what ‘better reasons’ may that be exactly, hmm?” she sang with a suspicious smile, challenging him with a puff of smoke.

Frankie revealed that he wasn’t at AA by choice, which she could have guessed herself. He mentioned the inpatient program and she nodded more sympathetically. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Kris offered Frankie a soft smile. ”Maybe you could show up for yourself one day then.” she offered gently in an honest tone, not trying to sound patronizing, he was probably already used to that. Years ago Kris had been admitted into an inpatient program and did dreadfully because she didn’t do well with too much structure or micro-managing. Naturally she rebelled. Treatment took her months longer than intended because she didn’t want to get with the program but eventually she gave in after her friends had an intervention. 

Johnny was certainly an aquired taste. Growing up with Bible thumper parents, her father being a pastor, Kris was used to it. She learned how to navigate religion without allowing her eyes to glaze over completely. His inappropriate comment made the corners of her lips curl, ”I wonder who’d enjoy it more...” she retorted sarcastically in a thoughtful tone, eyebrows dancing at the center of her forehead rhythmically. She almost felt bad playing along with that joke since Johnny wasn't there to defend himself. ”Johnny Boy isn’t so bad when you arrive on time and participate. Word of advice, if you pretend to listen to the Jesus talk he’ll sign off on your sheets easier than you’d ever imagine.” she hinted, stubbing out her ciggie in the tray and tossing it into the bin as she curiously watched him. But not too much, since she didn't want to make him too suspicious but she could see a lost man behind those eyes.

Galen Francis Ollivander

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

winter 2026

SINCE FRANKIE HAD AVERTED HIS GAZE HE didn't catch the cock of her head, or the curious glint in her eye as she answered him back gamely. It was the kind of leading that might have been construed as flirting in a different world. Of course, Frankie knew better as he snickered with his tongue in his cheek. Risking a quick glance from the corner of his eye, bouncing his knees restlessly so his arms rocked where they were braced.

"I dunno," He shrugged, loose and careless as he kissed his teeth and swithered with his answer. "My sparkling personality?" He said around a draw, cig pinched between thumb and forefinger. His eyes unable to stop the way they caught on her legs and her skirt and her face, toe to top. "My baby blues?" He breathed on a smokey exhale, tongue dashing out over his bottom lip as he leaned back lazily and let his attention drift.

Dashing the doubt with the heel of his battered boots, Frankie couldn't help the slight snort at Krissy's honest suggestion. It was a fair assumption, but Frankie hated the whole charade on principle. He knew he drank too much, but why not? That wasn't the kind of thing he was going to say to Krissy, though, aware of how offensive the take could be. He shrugged again instead, pursing his lips around a humourless smile as he lifted his head to catch her questing stare - wishing he hadn't.

"I don't... want to." He finally admitted, feeling as if the words were forced from his throat by the sheer gentleness of Krissy's soft, pretty face. She looked so bloody earnest, it almost made him feel sick. It made it especially difficult to keep her stare. "Probably not the answer you were hoping for, huh," He posed without really expecting an answer, shaking the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands so that he could cover his cold hands and fend off the chill.

As for Johnny, the two had come to a stalemate many sessions before. He showed because if he didn't Johnny told his mind healer. If Johnny told his mind healer, his mind healer told his parents. They threatened him again, and the cycle repeated itself. "So I keep hearing," Frankie said with an exaggerated nod. Folding his arms over his chest and smiling thinly. Krissy seemed like the kind of person who saw the best in just about everybody. "So you pray with him?" Frankie asked sarcastically. "Bless me, repent this." He cocked his head side to side, mocking the whole theatrical display.

kristine finch

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[kristine finch]

Kris wished he wasn’t right about his dashing blue eyes and sparkling personality. There was something about him. She wondered if he were magic. There was usually a weird static at the back of her neck when she was in the presence around magic folks. That feeling was absent with him. Kris nodded sympathetically when she stated that he didn't want to. ”Not quite the answer I was hoping for..but the one I was expecting?” She crinkled her nose with a soft smile.

Kris watched Frankie's familiar theatrical display, unable to surpass a giggle. Her eyes widened with amusement, ”Repent! Demon! Expel thee!” she raised her hand and drew an exaggerated cross in the air dramatically in front of him with her ciggie, too eager to play along. "Cast out all devils! And yada yada." Kris continued animatedly before ending with a raspberry, committed to the bit of mocking the church (hopefully Johnny didn't see that). Almost as if someone had tried to bless her before. Her father was a pastor, religion was shoved down her throat starting at a early age. There was a time she thought she believed it, but she also had a slight suspicion she was brain washed.

”Nah, I don’t do any of that..” she answered his question. Probably too quickly and honestly. Kris tossed the snuffed out cig into the bin, already wanting another one, ”I gently informed Johnny Boy that I'm uncomfortable participating in his ritual/tradition but if he wishes to offer a prayer for me when talking privately with his god I would appreciate it.” Kris pulled her coat closer to her, crossing her arms. It was more cold when she didn't have a cigarette to distract her. ”Would you be more comfortable if meetings weren’t located in a church?” she asked him genuinely curious, trying to dig deeper into the mind of this interesting mystery fellow Frankie. 

Galen Francis Ollivander