Day 57: Waiting Room/Lobby 2 (Fourth Shift)

[dualistic]

By some stroke of luck, Harvey hadn't been bothered while he'd been in the library, allowing him to lose himself in a random book for at least a little while. Even so, he'd gone through all of his possible options for who might be visiting, from Gordon (in which case he'd probably end up sedated by the end of it) to his mother to Bruce Wayne to even the Joker.

He knew the latter couldn't be possible, not when he had to be rotting in a cell of his own by now. He'd better be, anyway. If Batman was going to be making a nuisance of himself, the least he could do was get the insane clown behind bars.

In other words, the book hadn't completely prevented him from working himself up about this whole visitor thing. It was the last thing he wanted, but as the shift ended and a soldier came to collect him, it became clear that resistance would not be tolerated.

And so he was shoved into one of the rooms, watching as the patients from the previous shift exited out, some looking relieved and others looking crushed. It only made the knot in his stomach pull tighter, but Harvey forced himself to breathe and calm down. No one he recognized was here yet, so he'd have a moment to compose himself at least.

Taking a seat off in the corner, Harvey considered grabbing one of the outdated magazines to read over while he waited, but he couldn't relax quite that much. Instead, he pulled up one leg to rest on the opposite thigh and made subtle glances towards the door every few seconds.

Comments

[dreadofthegrave]

All things considered, the day had actually been pretty pleasant for Battler. Things had been simple and easy-going. Given the circumstances, it was less a good day and more some feeble kind of comfort painted over the underlying tension of the place, but it was exactly because the situation was so screwed up that it was important to hold onto little things. .... Everyone needed a break now and then, right? When things got tough, there was a difference between holding out and wearing yourself thin.

Which was why, by the end of the day, he'd nearly forgotten about the prospect of visitors. ... It was definitely a weird thing to be happening. He was certain from the start that visitors were the reason things had shifted, but.... Why were they going out of their way to do something like this? There had to be something that made this worth the effort to them. After all, with the things they themselves had been saying, there was no way a gesture like this could be taken at face value. Of course, from there, his thoughts had never really progressed much. It was true, this may have been a huge hint as to what was going on, but even so. .... He hadn't really considered that it would end up being him in this room. Because of that, it was kind of easy to simply push aside.

Now that he was here, however, Battler felt ... uncomfortable. What was this for? What did it mean? Who the hell would be visiting him, anyway...? He kept asking himself that, but he knew he wouldn't know any of the answers until he saw for himself. Still... It was hard not keep asking them anyway. It was only natural he'd be kind of tense at the idea that the guys running this place might have something up their sleeves, even if it was true that all his perceptions of them were pure conjecture on his part.

After entering the room, his uneasiness didn't clear up a bit. There was nobody here yet, only a couple of the other patients, and both seemed to be in similar spirits. Was that because they knew what was coming, or were they in the same situation of not knowing as he was...? In the end, he didn't bother asking. After all, what was the point? ... He was about to find out firsthand.

[damned-visitors.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, Jack wished the world would cut him some slack. Business trips and power lunches were all well and good on the weekdays, but the weekend was his time to unwind. Play a round of golf or whatever the rich and the privileged did to waste a day. The fact that he had gotten on a plane with a six-year-old to visit a nineteen-year-old at a mental institution came off as rather tense in comparison, and he assumed he wouldn't get a chance to relax. Not that it wasn't a crucial visit for the man; he simply did not want to appear put off in front of his son. A boy needed his father for courage and strength, and Jack had only hours to fake both.

Then he discovered tequila on the plane, and life was absolutely wonderful.

Liquid courage loosened the man like a freewheeling lady, and though he wasn't entirely drunk, he was tipsy enough to serve as entertainment for his daughter and possibly all the patrons in the entryway. Until a receptionist called them to the lobby, the man sat Ana on his shoulders, and both broke into a roaring rendition of a rather popular Japanese theme song, loud enough to carry over to the nearby rooms.



Everyone else, therefore, appeared absolutely relieved when the duo were asked to quiet down.

Still, it was a good day. And there, sitting like a moron was his precious son. Ana's brother. As they passed the threshold to the waiting room, Jack hummed the last measures and let the little girl down to greet her brother. She immediately ran over, red hair flying, to jump into the young man's lap. "Big Brother!"

Jack, on the other hand, was less dramatic. "Hey, brat."

[dreadofthegrave]

And then he punched his dad in the balls.