Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxicspiderman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-07-01 07:51 am
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2011-07-01 07:51 am
Entry tags:
Day 57: Arts and Crafts Room (third shift)
They hadn't handed him a cane this morning, and they'd been right. His knee was healing. It ached, but it held his weight. Going out to the greenhouse and standing on it for a few hours was a bad idea, though. If it gave out on him tonight, what would he say. "Sorry, dudes, a bunch of tomatoes were more important. Like actual tomatoes." That sounded stupid in his head, so he'd stay indoors.
His hands itched. For something to do. Metaphorical sense, not a rash. Volunteering for KP would be a) pointless, b) not fix the standing-up problem, and c) suck, so he didn't. It was almost worth trying just to see the expressions on the goons faces, but the slim possibility that they'd take him up on it outweighed the chance to look under the mask Landel/Aguilar had put on the place by day.
Instead, he limped over to the craft room and hassled them into bringing out the tray labeled 'Paul Quincy'. Expressionless surprise was a funny expression. You could tell new cops by it. A little widening of the eyes, an absence of fidgeting for a few seconds. The old ones weren't surprised by anything. These guys had expected him to try and shoot the place up with a set of safety scissors or something. Not to pull out craft supplies and ignore them completely, except for a glance or two at their initial reactions.
A Zodiac wasn't much more than an inflatable pool raft with a big fucking motor on the back. Put enough power back there and you could make one out of a brick. No grace, but it went like he'll. S.T. liked them.
The boat that was taking shape on the table was of a different lineage. About the right size for G.I. Joe to take his entire platoon along when he went canoodling with Barbie while Ken was off on a business trip, it was long and slim. Right now it was indistinguishable from a dinosaur-model ribcage, given that he'd started at the spine -- oops, keel -- and worked up.
[Free]
His hands itched. For something to do. Metaphorical sense, not a rash. Volunteering for KP would be a) pointless, b) not fix the standing-up problem, and c) suck, so he didn't. It was almost worth trying just to see the expressions on the goons faces, but the slim possibility that they'd take him up on it outweighed the chance to look under the mask Landel/Aguilar had put on the place by day.
Instead, he limped over to the craft room and hassled them into bringing out the tray labeled 'Paul Quincy'. Expressionless surprise was a funny expression. You could tell new cops by it. A little widening of the eyes, an absence of fidgeting for a few seconds. The old ones weren't surprised by anything. These guys had expected him to try and shoot the place up with a set of safety scissors or something. Not to pull out craft supplies and ignore them completely, except for a glance or two at their initial reactions.
A Zodiac wasn't much more than an inflatable pool raft with a big fucking motor on the back. Put enough power back there and you could make one out of a brick. No grace, but it went like he'll. S.T. liked them.
The boat that was taking shape on the table was of a different lineage. About the right size for G.I. Joe to take his entire platoon along when he went canoodling with Barbie while Ken was off on a business trip, it was long and slim. Right now it was indistinguishable from a dinosaur-model ribcage, given that he'd started at the spine -- oops, keel -- and worked up.
[Free]
no subject
He'd almost been following there for a moment. For that whole first loop he'd been totally there. After that, however, he was left sitting and staring with a knitting needle in hand as his mind tried to backtrack over the steps before it. And that was going absolutely nowhere.
"I don't think I up and all got any of that shit right there, sis. Can you all like... do that whole motherfucker over in slow motion?" Really, really slow motion. Preferably repeated several times. he just needed to focus a little harder, that was all. After the first few steps it looked like you just did the same steps over and over. He could do that.
no subject
She moved slowly, making the loops larger than they needed to be, until she'd made two dozen stitches. "This is a good length." Her grin did not grow in the slightest, except in the confines of her own mind. "For killing ogres and netting the grist, or for a scarf." She added a second row, still moving at glacial speed.
"Do trolls have hobbies?"
no subject
He was still trying to follow her movements, looping together a mess of yarn that might have almost been something. Almost, but not really. He wasn't going to be making scarves for all his friends any time soon (and they'd probably be grateful for that anyway).