Day 58: Men's Showers (Second Shift)

[freewill]

By the time that breakfast had ended, Michael didn't really know what to think.

The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.

He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.

Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.

A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.

However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.

[To here.]

Comments

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Oh man, if there was a time when Zack was dying for a shower, it was now. It wasn't even that he smelled or was gross in any way, but... He had been a dog last night. A huge, slobbering dog with most of its skin either gone or rotting. Even if none of that had carried over into the morning, he still felt like he needed to take about five showers to get rid of the feeling.

It was for that reason that he said a quick goodbye to Neku (who seemed like a good kid underneath the brooding) and raced over to the showers. The soldiers seemed pleased that he was so eager, and Zack himself practically tossed his clothing off.

He gave out an audible sigh of relief when he got under the hot water, soaping himself up and relearning his body with his hands. Not that he'd forgotten, but he was that much more appreciative of it now. Five fingers on each hand, smooth skin not covered with fur -- it was a whole lot to be thankful for considering what he'd just been through.

He also took the time to both shampoo and condition his hair, both because it required that much care at this length and because he wanted to give it proper attention. This was much preferable to that mangy fur that had only existed in patches.

Once he felt that all of the dog had been washed away (not that there had really been any left in the first place) and his hair had the last of the conditioner washed out of it, Zack finally turned off the shower head. He took his time drying himself off, wishing he could get a fresh uniform and yet realizing that there was no point in asking. The staff didn't seem to like him that much, probably due to the whole food fight incident.

So back into his uniform he went, at which point his escort told him to head back into the Sun Room for the rest of the shift. Zack nodded and complied, not having much other choice.

[To here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1153450.html?thread=79462314#t79462314).]

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

It had been good to confirm that Claire was all right, but Peter couldn't help but feel like things were always at least a little tense between them these days. It probably wasn't that shocking when the institute was giving them all sorts of things to worry over or argue about, and yet he wished that they could get to a point where they were at least comfortable with each other, even if not with the rest of the situation.

Still, Peter couldn't say that things were going terribly. Besides that brief run-in the other night, Sylar had been more or less missing in action. He knew that he should worry about that, since it was when people were quietest that they might really be planning something, but he preferred to see it as a reprieve.

More than that, the paramedic group might really be coming together. He was planning to meet with someone today and he'd already been offered supplies by a few other patients who were even willing to come drop it off in his room for him. He realized that meant he was even more responsible for making good use of what he was given, but he was definitely willing to do that.

On top of all that, it was finally time for another shower. They really weren't allowed them enough in this place, so Peter tried to make the best of it despite the awkward communal situation that they were forced into. It was pretty easy to just stare straight forward at the tiled wall and not pay attention to any of the other patients, and so that was what he attempted to do. He got some of the body soap into his hands and started to slowly wash himself off, wanting to savor it.

[Free!]

[wantsyourzex.livejournal.com]

Max woke up here again. Again. As hazy and indistinct as his thoughts were, he could think back and remember that this wasn't the first time he'd been lucid. He'd broken through his delusions before, remembered who he really was... but then he'd gone right back into them, it seems. Relapsed.

And now, he was back again. He was himself, again. This was not as much of a comfort to him as he might have thought. Max Vyer was far less capable of dealing with any of this than Admiral ZEX, and he was told that that was why he'd come up with the whole delusional persona in the first place, but right now he didn't like the alternative. He was still in this horrible hospital, the guards were jerks, he didn't like all these new rules or any rules in general, his head hurt and now he had to take a shower with a bunch of other guys and he didn't want to do that either. ZEX would have enjoyed it, but it just made Max feel... uncomfortable. Way too uncomfortable.

Max undressed, hesitantly, staring at all the scratches and cuts and gashes he'd somehow inflicted on himself over the past days or so (invisible creatures, according to ZEX, which didn't make any sense) and started the unenviable task of cleaning himself. Soap in all of them was not going to be fun. He still wasn't sure what to do about the... eye thing, either. He really didn't like thinking about the fact he only had one eye now.

He was standing next to another guy here... Max tried not to look at him for very long. ZEX would have savored it... this would have been much easier if he was still crazy.

"Uh... how's it going?" Max said, then immediately regretted it.

[dualistic]

While speaking with Grell had meant that he didn't have to hide his anger behind his bandages and a more controlled front, that didn't stop interacting with the redhead from being extremely tiring. There was too much energy in him and he was too much of a complete mystery for Harvey to be prepared to deal with him after last night. For that reason, the change in shift was a relief, although the man behind the intercom was almost as much of a headache on his own.

At least it seemed that whoever was monitoring him was trying to keep that cheer in check. There was only so much of it that Harvey could take at this point.

A shower would have been a relief if they didn't always turn into attempted acrobatic acts so that he didn't end up getting too much soap or water into his wounds. Granted, washing them out might have been a good idea, but his face was a lost cause and as for the others, well -- he'd rather not deal with the stinging.

Actually, staying in this room might be the best way to just avoid talking to anyone, except that Harvey had already learned that there were certain patients who didn't see nakedness as an obstacle to having a chat. He was pretty sure he would lose it if someone tried to carry on a conversation with him in here when he was already in such a mood, and so he decided to make this quick.

If only he could give off some sort of pheromone that said leave me alone and if only people actually listened to it. Still, that was wishful thinking to the highest degree.

He showered as quickly as he could when he had to consider his wounds as well. In particular, he couldn't help noting his bloodied knuckles and remembering the cause of them; his own anger at having to see Bruce Wayne in this place. Now it almost felt like he'd dreamed that whole encounter. It was only yesterday that it had happened, but with everything that he'd been through last night it felt more like a week. He definitely wasn't relying on that idiot to get him out of here, anyway.

Once he was clean enough for the soldiers to be satisfied, Harvey went to dry off and get dressed before moving into the Sun Room.

[dualistic]

[To here.]

[nobleman]

Integrating a new patient into the whole Landel's experience was something so mundane and routine at this point that it had been a good way to start the day. It was calming and ordinary enough in its own way that it had allowed all of the leftover adrenaline from what Guy had been through the night before to fade away. Despite Zero's age, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, which gave Guy faith that he could handle the institute just fine. Something was eventually going to come along that knocked him off his feet, but that was pretty much inevitable in this place. He didn't think there existed a person who wouldn't be unnerved by something here.

In any case, it looked like the whole pattern of having a calm day might continue, seeing how it was time for the showers again. Guy tended to put a lot of care into his appearance, so he was always happy to have the chance to wash up. He'd gone longer without showers back home when they'd had more important things to worry about, but nonetheless, he wasn't fond of the infrequency of them in this place.

Guy disrobed and entered the shower room with little delay, stopping at the first open shower head that he saw. He turned the knobs and then waited for the water to heat up, resisting the urge to glance around out of sheer boredom.

Honestly, he had had his share of water exposure last night, and yet this was completely different, wasn't it? He didn't have to worry about holding his breath and this water would actually be nice and hot. In the end, he was too fond of swimming to let an experience like last night's ruin it entirely for him. Hopefully Anise wasn't spoiled on it either, though he wouldn't blame her if she was.

[For Battler.]

[dreadofthegrave]

After breakfast, Battler was feeling significantly calmer. Of course, that wasn't to say that he was in a good mood. Now, instead of frustration, it had simply been replaced with a sense of weariness. It was the sort of feeling that made him to want to ignore everything for a short while to regain his spirit, especially since forcing down such a tasteless meal hadn't exactly been very comforting.

In that sense, a shower sounded pretty nice. It wasn't quite on the level of a cold glass of milk after a long bath, but some soap and hot water would be pretty relaxing, right? .... It really didn't feel quite right, getting clean only every other day like this. On the other hand, doing it in company like this was kind of.... It wasn't like he cared, exactly, but because of the lack of individual stalls, some of the pleasantness was lost. A bunch of guys washing themselves wasn't exactly the most refreshing sight, and it didn't really provide the type of atmosphere to take your time in. It felt more like a quick shower after gym or something than something to enjoy.

Those thoughts aside, once he was under the water, it really did feel good, and he could feel some of the tension he'd built up since the other day finally starting to melt away. He ignored everything else in favor that, idly massaging some shampoo into his hair.

[kingside]

Although someone had to have been responsible for cleaning the blood off of his skin last night, Lelouch was looking forward immensely to the chance to take a shower. For one, he was convinced the scent of it still clung to his skin (and felt nauseous whenever he thought about it), and for another, it just didn't feel like he'd actually bathed if he couldn't remember it. Besides, showers were infrequent enough in this place; it was best to enjoy them when they came about.

He let out a quiet sigh as he stepped into the shower room, and although the new uniform gave him a bit more trouble than he would have liked (this would have been easier if he'd been the one to put it on in the first place, he was sure of it), he was relatively quick to shed it, get under a showerhead, and turn on the water. After this, he'd need to head tot he Sun Room for his... interview, he supposed he should call it, with Javert. That was simple enough, assuming that he could think of a convenient way to gloss over his Geass. One already existed in the form of the "confession" he'd been forced to give during his early days here, but he wasn't certain that Javert would accept it. It would be a start.

It was only after he'd finished his shower and had his towel around his waist that he noticed something odd about his reflection, and he grew still, hair dripping into his eyes. That wasn't... no, it had to be hadn't it? He swept his bangs aside, turned his back more fully to the mirror, and craned his neck to look at it.

... Well.

Scowling, he resumed drying himself off before going to fetch his clothes. At least now he had the last piece of the puzzle. It wasn't much of a consolation, but it was better than nothing.

[To the Sun Room.]

[affictitious]

Well, that had went just about how he had expected it to. That being nowhere, obviously. Giant was just about as annoying and belligerent as always, though there was some part of his little rant that pleased the core of Gabriel. Optimists were breaking down. Ouch. That was tough love. Even after teleporting and falling into an ice-cold lake and nearly drowning, the guy had been all sunshine and sparkles. Blind optimists? Did not get on his good side.

Of course, that also meant Aguilar was starting to win. That just pissed him off.

Archangels weren't controlled. That was kind of the point with - well, everything. Paradise Lost had been a little too close to home sometimes, which had made John Milton's life a bit more difficult than probably anyone had meant it to be.

Whatever. Priority was finding his brother. He wasn't worried, but - okay, hell. He had reason to be. He hadn't avoided his family because he wanted them to die. Any of them. They had been dropping like flies since before the Apocalypse had even been triggered, but now Gabriel's world had been forced into a significantly smaller region. He only had one brother here.

And if he waxed romantically anymore, his life was going to turn into Casablanca. Moving on. Clean, shampoo, soap, blah blah.

His ass was on a mission to Terminator-stalk down Castiel.

[To here.]

[princeofthemoon.livejournal.com]

After the drugs had began to do their job, Sesshoumaru had been taken to the cafeteria, chained between two soldiers, and been forced to stand as the sedative took a firmer grip on his mind and body. He had not been happy with the situation, but his limbs had already begun to feel so heavy, and his mind as though it was full of fog, which made trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do slightly more difficult than usual - and really, the situation would have been difficult enough. Sesshoumaru was not used to any need for subtlety, nor given to its practice. All appearances to the contrary, he was a dog, and in his heart he dearly loved simplicity.

The chatter in the background, a dull roar that combined with the sound of dishes and silverwear, just made it more difficult to concentrate. Perhaps that was why they were here.

He growled a little, dully - there seemed little else he could do at the moment; it was growing extremely difficult to think, difficult to remember to move or blink. His body felt so heavy that it was a wonder he didn't sink into the earth, fall through the stone and continue falling-



A voice fizzled to life somewhere very far away, it seemed like, and said things that didn't seem to make much sense - Sesshoumaru wondered if they would make more sense if they hadn't done.... whatever it was they had done to him. (The prick? )

"'ɹǝʌo sı ʇsɐɟʞɐǝɹq ǝʞıן sʞooן ʇı 'ʇɥbıɹ ןןɐ" one of the soldiers said, and it took Seshoumaru a moment to realize first that he'd been speaking, and second that the words made sense. Breakfast, over then. Then that meant... something. It was difficult to focus.

"Come on," one of them said, it was difficult to And, when Sesshoumaru was trying to figure that out, they started to move.


Sesshoumaru only had one arm, which had made cuffing him in such a way as would prevent a freedom of moment which could still be dangerous was difficult; in the end his ankle had been cuffed to restrain him on his left side. It was a perfectly sound principle in theory, but in practice made the simple task of walking akin to running a three legged race - which was complicated enough even without drugs flooding your system - and sESSHOUMARU WAS MORE ILL-PREPARED THAN MOST TO DEAL WITH SUCH CHANges, simply because his natural immunity to most poisons, drugs, and various other toxins was enough to have prevented him ever having been compelled to deal with anything that even remotely resembled his present situation. The combination of these two elements meant that, when they began to walk, Sesshoumaru did not react quickly enough, and several seconds later had fallen in a graceless heap.

[princeofthemoon.livejournal.com]

For a moment Sesshoumaru lay very still on the ground, hair covering him and spilling across onto the floor, his one arm pulled back and still held up at an awkward angle by the handcuff, and wondered quite how it had come to this. He wished he could close his eyes and go to sleep, so that perhaps he could wake to find that this was all only a very odd dream. But then his guards were pulling him to his feet.

""

It took several seconds longer than it should have for Sesshoumaru to come up with a reply, the drug was dulling his reactions. Finally he manged to piece together the words and come up with a glare - less biting than it would usually have been, but at least it was something.

[terriblehaiku]

Hijikata was still distracted and far from his usual self as he stepped into the showers. He'd managed to leave a short message on the notice board before being ushered in, and all he could really do was hope someone would have the information he needed. He still didn't know what he was going to do once he had that information, but he'd figure it out.

He stepped into the shower and scrubbed down, slowed down only marginally by the need to wash his hair. That was finally done as well, however, and he wasted no time drying off and getting dressed again. There were too many people around, and he just wasn't in the mood.

[To here.]

[rocksthecourt]

Despite his generally improved mood, there had been something in the back of Klavier's mind that was telling him something was off about today. And it was on his way to the showers that he finally realized what it was. It was the schedule. He had been in this place an embarrassingly long time already. He knew the routine, he knew the patterns. This was off. Or more... it was his perception of what day it was that was off. Today should have been Sunday. So did that mean... Did that mean it was actually a day later than he thought? Had he actually lost an entire day? Had he somehow been rendered unconscious for that long?

It was a rather big buzz kill to consider, were he to be honest, but this is what he preoccupied himself with as he got himself out of uniform and into the showers. Aside from how off-putting it had been the first time, Klavier tended to go along with this with little other complaint. Nothing like only bathing twice a week to make one willingly jump into communal showers... And he was probably a mess by now. (Relatively speaking.)

Normally, he tended to bath, wash his hair, and get out fairly quickly, but this had been hindered recently. That being due to... his head. More specifically a small bald spot that had been shaven at one part, enough to display a taped gauze pad for all to see. A grand display of his shame and a horrible reminder rolled into one. It could be hidden with the beret, but here, there was little he could do about it.

He self consciously put a hand over it, hopefully just looking like he was scratching his head or playing with his hair or... something, as he turned on one of the shower heads and got underneath it. ....How was he supposed to wash his hair like this?

[for Firo]

[immortale]

Firo had been here for several days already, but this was the first time he was given the opportunity to wash. It wasn't really a surprise to learn that the showers were communal (it was a prison, after all, even if not by name), but even so... It was embarrassing to be ordered to strip and bath by the guard who'd escorted him. The saving grace was he wasn't the only one ordered to do so—and that at least the man hadn't stayed to supervise.

He undressed, leaving his clothes folded in a pile, and headed into the shower area itself. He stopped under an empty showerhead, and it was in reaching out to turn it on that he realized belatedly that he'd ended up with someone else to his left.

Firo wondered for a moment whether he should say something, or whether he should move—but the water was already running, and he just wanted to finish washing himself quickly. He settled on saying something, to break what felt like an awkward silence, "Hello."

With the one word, he gave a side glance at the other man—he was blond, and a little taller than him—but in that glance, his attention had also been caught. He'd thought the man had just been in the middle of scratching his head, but there were the white edges of what looked like (now that he was paying attention) a bandage peeking out around his fingers...

It was then that Firo realized he'd started to stare.

[believein0.livejournal.com]

Before Zero could ask Guy any more questions, the time for 'morning meal' was over and he was being led to another new location by Pushy Human Escort. Guy had been helpful, no doubt about it, but somehow he'd managed to spawn even more questions in Zero's head than there had been before. Now hopefully he would be able to find someone else just as helpful in this new area, which was...a cleaning area?

"Is there really a need for this right now?" he asked Pushy Human Escort. The question was given an unsurprising answer, something along the lines of 'shut up blah blah do as you're told' but it wasn't like Zero paid close attention. Tch. Having to submit himself to these people was quickly becoming annoying. If only he weren't weak and unarmed...

There was a positive side to this cleaning time, though. Removing these clothes would allow him to see if there was anything unique or otherwise important about this body. With that thought in mind, Zero undressed quickly, not the least bit uncomfortable with getting naked around so many other people. (Why should he be uncomfortable? It was just the human body, not a freak show.) Unlike the other humans around him, however, he took a moment to pause and stare down at himself before entering the showering room.

......Oh. Is that what that uncomfortable thing between his legs looked like? He'd thought there'd been something odd feeling down there. Did the other humans have this, too? ...Yeah they did. Odd. So what was he supposed to do with it? It looked like a bothersome appendage that would get in the way more than it would be useful. Or maybe he was judging looks too harshly here, and it was actually something incredibly useful and he'd learn its purpose eventually?

Who knew. Humans were just too strange.

Zero finally went into the showering room, not caring if anyone thought he was weird for staring at himself for a good ten seconds. But once in the room, he ended up just standing under the water without moving much. He was a little surprised by how much his body was being affected by the air temperature and subsequent hot water temperature. And of course, there was that 'what the hell am I supposed to be doing here again?' question that was really leaving him less focused on actually getting clean and more lost in thought. What was he doing here, and why? Those were the questions of the day, and still without real answers beyond being the object of some grand experiment.

[For the other girl who shouldn't be in here Locke~]

[kings_thief]

While his conversation with Terra didn't go as well as he'd hoped, it wasn't like he'd accomplished nothing while at breakfast. Beyond learning he was quickly losing any appetite he might have had before arriving here, he had found out Terra was here and that she, once again, couldn't remember anything. It was a little frustrating and more than a little sad, but, he blamed this place for screwing with him and his friends.

When more jerk-faced guards came to shuffle them apart, he didn't really resist, though it was pretty tiresome to be ordered about like that, he would've snapped back if he didn't know nothing would come of it. They lead the men away to some mass showers, which, only bothered him a little. A few people? no problem. A whole mass? Just a little awkward. Still, instead of focus on that, he tried, instead to look for Edgar, hoping to tell him about Terra in case he hadn't seen Locke's note.

He looked around and his eyes fell on a man, well, he assumed he was a man, anyway, with hair very similar to Edgar's. However, any possibility of the guy being Locke's friend was dismissed as soon as the thief assessed his figure. Edgar may be 'pretty' for a man, but, this guy had a slighter figure and was definitely too short.

Still, he was curious. Carefully, he moved closer to the other guy, noting his face wasn't much better at convincing Locke he wasn't in the wrong showers, the only thing that did was the distinct lack of female parts. However, this guy seemed confused and just sort of stood there like he didn't know what he was supposed to do. This wasn't another amnesia case, was it?

"You know...the point is to get clean while you're in here, then you can leave."

[corvus-veritas.livejournal.com]

On any other day, Byrne would have approached the showers with the usual oh god not another awkward group shower session knnngh reaction. But this was not any other day. On the contrary, it would probably be the first and last time he didn't care if someone saw his dick. They were all in the same situation, and quite frankly, he wasn't about to give a damn right now. All he cared about was what he and Badd had discussed at breakfast: the torture session, the letters, and, most importantly, their will to fight the injustices of this place.

Byrne walked into the showers with the intent of making this quick, ignoring everyone else around him. In fact, he was almost laughing to himself as he stood under the water, because wow. Badd had been the one encouraging him to keep fighting, to keep the Yatagarasu spirit alive. And he'd even gone and made a corny little speech - no, a noble speech - like Byrne was infamous for doing! Hey, he wasn't complaining. It was well appreciated; he had needed the encouragement and needed it badly. But the role reversal was still a little surprising nonetheless.

It really made Byrne wonder where he'd be if he and Badd had never crossed paths. A greater mystery was how he'd be functioning if Badd wasn't here. One thing was for sure, though. Coping with the memories of last night would be a much more difficult task right now if it hadn't been for Badd's earlier encouragement. They were still painful, but not as much as before.

The prosecutor finished up his shower, dried off, and dressed as efficiently as the soldier this place pretended he was. It wasn't until he'd finished getting dressed and grabbed his beret to put on his head that he finally noticed the difference in his attire. Namely, the shiny new pin on his beret that had the letters M-U on it. It didn't take long for Byrne to realize what it meant.

Oh, Aguilar. You shouldn't have. You and your sick sense of humor are enough, really.

[To here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1153450.html?thread=79487914#t79487914).]

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

Right. Right. Kibitoshin almost had this one cracked. The shiny white porcelain and tiles were just the physical symptoms of the barriers confining him to his own humiliation. The true barriers were metaphysical, inside his own mind, and it was there that the battle for his own dignity would take place. He was in control. He could fight the shame. No amount of bored-looking soldiers standing by or other patients undressing or forgetting to take off his boots would defeat him. He was like water, without fear or hesitation and constantly changing with the situation and shape of the world. He was a god.

He also had no idea what any of that really meant, but it sounded good.

Kibitoshin struggled out of his uniform, curled in on himself like a damp leaf; leaning forward like this his hair fell forward and almost acted as a shield, blocking his view. Right. Better idea. Less complex.

If you can't see me, I can't see you. I really don't want to see you.

Keeping his head down, he shuffled awkwardly towards the stalls- making eye-contact would be the real killer here. The last thing he wanted was to end up talking to someone scary like Tenzen again. No, it was better to focus on, um- the floor. Yes. The floor was damp and warm under his bare feet. It was white. Um. It was kind of smooth, maybe, though it could also be rough.

... oh, galaxies, he needed to get into a cubicle! With a sudden spurt of bravery, Kibitoshin made a dash for the stall-- and promptly slipped, feet giving way so suddenly he didn't even have time to flail out for the sides in some vague hope they'd keep him vertical. Who knew tiles hurt so much, anyway?

As if to add insult to injury, the shower switched on barely a second later. Cold water, of course. And this time he couldn't keep himself from yelping like a startled puppy. Just his luck!

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

Yet another thing reminiscent of the Academy: group showers. Not one of Meekins' fondest memories about the Academy, either, though he'd grown to expect and even tolerate the towel snapping and other pranks that his peers enjoyed pulling on him in the showers. But at least the showers here weren't imposed every single day as they were at the Academy.

Thus, Meekins didn't feel as awkward he otherwise might have when he noted several men who were already in here. While he didn't know any of them, one of them looked a little familiar, like he'd seen him here the other day -- or actually, it had been the other night. It was that pale, white-haired young man who had been attacked by a little kid in the Sun Room. At least Meekins knew he was okay!

He was about to approach the man to introduce himself and ask him more about what had happened, when he suddenly spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Remembering incident in the cafeteria in front of the soldier and the blue-haired girl, Meekins decided to try ignoring it for now. After all, he was on edge and just seeing things.

But then the motion persisted, and Meekins now heard a deep growl. Shivering, he turned towards its direction, finding himself face-to-face with what appeared to be a rabid dog baring its teeth at him. Startled, Meekins leaped away from it... and promptly collided into something else.

As Meekins fell to the ground, he was at first unable to stifle his shriek. But once he realized who he had literally run into, he forced himself to calm down and addressed the young man, while he stood back up. "My-- my apologies, Sir! I should have watched where I was going, Sir! Are you all right, Sir?"

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

Usually, Kratos' showers were short, five-minute affairs that never went over unless he was handicapped in some form, which he certainly had been last week. However, in the span of merely three days, his chest had returned to its normal color and the pain had subsided, which meant that he could safely return to a quick, brusque shower. Ironically, despite its hastiness, he could honestly say that he preferred finishing his shower as swiftly as possible rather than opting to linger. It was his routine, something he could concretely stick to in the midst of an environment that was still in some ways foreign and confusing- the last shred of control left to him, as it were.

And so, as soon as five minutes were up, he stepped away from the shower and turned the water off before heading back to dry off and change back into his uniform. He didn't have much to do afterward - the only option left to him now was to go to the Sun Room - but Kratos was sure he wouldn't mind simply taking a nap for the rest of the shift.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1153450.html?thread=79491242#t79491242)]

[anemptydecapo]

The conversation with the Sergent had petered out into nothing, though the assassin still left the table with a bow and peaceful goodbye. It was obvious enough that, even to someone with lackluster conversational skills like Venom, the two had gotten onto the wrong foot.

Unfortunately, those polite gestures were about all the assassin could force himself to do in order to fix that first impression. Sgt. Carter seemed far more interested in looking at the brighter side of things, to the point where it felt like he had no interest in leaving. Perhaps being here was a better alternative to being at war, but Venom couldn't claim to take interest in someone who wouldn't help.

At this point, the showers had become a test of his patience. He could only count one instance of entering the area without any open wounds and because of that, the steam and hot water always found a way to agitate his skin. An unhappy groan left his mouth as the water weighed down his bangs, effectively blinding him, and forced pressure onto the red line cut along his cheekbone. The water only ran down from there, dripping across his scratched arms and the stab-wound on his torso.

Needless to say, the Guild Head wished to keep his time cleansing short. For a moment, he could have sworn someone was staring at him. He kept his eyes to the tile until the soap had rinsed out of his hair, then immediately left the area to dry and get dressed.

He hoped she was better off than he was. He didn't want to hurt her...

[To the Sun Room.]

[full-score.livejournal.com]

While Claude still wasn't pleased with having to go over details from his "sleep study", the relief he felt from Rita's help overshadowed that for the moment. Keeping her hand-written note tucked inside the journal in his arms, he made his way over to the men's showers. He'd have to study over it the next chance he got.

In the meantime, he needed to take some time to get clean for once. As sick as he was of water after last night, Claude had to admit that nothing quite beat a nice, hot shower. Of course, he moved slower than normal thanks to his broken hand. It didn't help that the military uniforms had all those buttons, but he eventually managed.

Once he stepped into the steamy, tiled room, he spotted Guy beneath one of the shower heads. He nearly approached him, but a second glance made him realize that his friend was already talking to someone. Maybe it was just as well. If he hurried with his shower, he could take time to read what Rita had written for him.

For that reason, Claude found his own shower head and carefully began washing himself with his uninjured hand. Eventually, he felt sufficiently clean, turned off the water, and left to get dressed.

((To here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1153450.html?thread=79494058#t79494058).))

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

Badd and Byrne had separated for showering. Manly handgripping was all very well at breakfast but in the communal shower it didn't pay to seem too interested in another guy. Not in a prison.

It was tempting to keep looking back to him, even just to have a glimpse of his feet or the top of his head, just to make sure he was still around and hadn't been snatched away again. Badd got paranoid over things he couldn't see. But Byrne had been humiliated enough today and Badd would respect him by not staring. Even if the Institute wouldn't accord him privacy, Badd would.

Badd firmly turned his face to the wall as he ran a hand through his wet, thinning hair. At least you could trust the guards to prevent anything violent from happening in the showers, unlike his last cage. He still hadn't told Byrne he'd been to prison over the Yatagarasu matter, and while it had been minimum security and mostly solitary the showers were still very dangerous times for a convicted cop. It was hard to let your guard down in what should have been a more calming, soothing moment during the day.

One hand idly rested on his thigh, and the small mass of scar tissue from where a hired goon had put a bullet through his leg--and the walls turned yellow cream again. He was clothed, standing outside Cece Yew's hotel room door and talking to her through the narrow chained crack.

"Don't answer the door for anyone but me, and confirm it through the peephole. We've got people watching your windows and in the front and back of the hotel. I just need to check on a few things and then I'll come up and stay with you for the rest of the night."

Cece's scared eyes blinked, and her fingers clutched at the edge of the door. "Come back soon, please. I don't feel safe here...I know, that's stupid, of course I'm not safe. But I feel better with you around."

"Don't worry, Miss Yew. I'm a professional."

Cece smiled, and the wall became blank tile again. Badd scowled and shook his head fiercely, trying to shake off the hallucination's effects. They'd gotten Cece her justice. It was over. The pills could show him all he liked, it wasn't as if he hadn't relived those memories on a hundred sleepless nights. He was the Yatagarasu. They wouldn't break him.

[Gant]

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Gant had woken up late, which wasn't much of a surprise. That drug from last night probably had knocked him out pretty good, but other than that, Gant felt perfectly fine. Peachy even. And he had gotten to miss that god awful breakfast, which was always a plus in his book. Today seemed to be shower day, as he was shown graciously to the place without much comment from his military shadow. So nice to not have to deal with constant reprimands that Nurse Millie always gave him.

The showers were always cleared out as quickly as possible, which was to be expected. Some people just found public showers uncomfortable. Gant was used to them. Public pools usually required their patrons to rinse off before entering, and while one wore a bathing suit at the time it wasn't all that much different.

Gant recognized the familiar shape of one of his old friends. Baddo hadn't been a very good friend lately, though. Damn shame, seeing as they probably could help each other so much more if not for Badd's level of adversity. He wasn't perfect himself, but Gant didn't go around making a big deal about his past to anyone. Gant looked around and seeing no one else quite as fun to tease, decided to head on over. After all, they were in the showers. Even if Badd was in a nasty mood, it wasn't like he could try pulling anything really dangerous when no proper make-shift weapons were about.

"Hey there, Baddo. Have a bad night?" Of course he didn't need to ask. Every night at the institute was a bad night. But it didn't hurt to be courteous, after all. Gant was a gentleman of great honor.

[age-of-kings.livejournal.com]

At first, Tolten had been delighted to hear the word 'shower'. Much as he hated showering rather than a proper bath, he hadn't cleaned himself since arriving here. It was unsanitary! He had imagined - if he had even stopped to think about it - something like what he had experienced on the Nautilus. Narrow metal rooms that sluiced cold (at least in his case, as he was always last) water and made god-awful noises as the pipes rattles and whined.

The concept of showering with other people had never once entered the young king's mind. He had been bathed by nannies and nursemaids when he was a small boy, and perhaps by his mother before that, but from as long as he could manage to wash himself alone he had.

He didn't like people watching him under normal circumstances. He could hardly even eat with a single pair of eyes upon him. There was a...a vulnerability in being watched, even when ding normal, every day things. To be forced to strip and clean himself in full view of fellow prisoners and guards....

"Ah..." he attempted to protest to his escort, the blood draining from his face. "I don't..."

"Don't waste time trying to be modest, get undressed and in the shower." The tone left no room for argument. Torn between his need to do as he was told and follow orders and his fear of exposing himself - literally and metaphorically - he made a strained noise and began to tremble somewhat. The slight sense of purpose and sound footing he'd gained from Anise at breakfast was slipping away rapidly.

It didn't even have anything to do with exposing his body to strangers. Well, not entirely. He had nothing to be ashamed of - he knew he was handsome and well cut and without scars - but it was symbolic.

God's sake, Tolten, you can do this. He just needed to get undressed quickly, get to the nearest empty stall space, and ignore the fact he was in a room full of people. He closed his eyes and methodically stripped off his uniform, slipping into the militaristic movements he had learned as boy. He wasn't a king here, he reminded himself, he was simply a soldier. If his own men showered together in this or a similar manner - and he supposed they did, considering he had seen the steam rooms in the barracks - then he could as well.

But that didn't stop his cheeks from burning red as he awkwardly moved into the showers proper. Despite the fact that only one or two soldiers were even paying attention to him, he felt as though all eyes were on him. He made it to his goal, fumbled rapidly with the faucets, and leaned his head against the tile and under the spray. There he stood, breathing like a man who had just run a marathon.

[free]

[stlg13bomber.livejournal.com]

Carter had two pins on his hat by the end of breakfast and was disproportionately proud of this fact. Rewards and notability were always nice to have, even from monsters.

As he disrobed and removed his many bandages he looked himself over in the bathroom mirror. The bat bite on his shoulder had receded almost to mere scar tissue, and the cockroach scratches only looked like he'd gotten in a fight with a particularly vicious cat. He grinned to himself, tucked his clothes to the side, and went in for a wash.

"At least the showers are still warm," he said by way of conversation opener to the man next to him. The man had his head against the wall and from his posture seemed to be relaxing into the feel of the warm water. "The food's no good anymore, but it's nice to still have a few little comforts." Venom had scorned his optimism earlier, though Carter privately thought (with uncharacteristic resentment) that Venom hadn't been in a POW camp and didn't know what he was talking about. Nobody here really seemed to understand that the Institute, as horrible as it was, could be an improvement over other places and times.

Except Claire. She was the only one here who really got him and Carter appreciated that fact. Carter hadn't seen her in a while. Maybe he should leave her a little note, let her know how he was doing. She was such a nice girl.

[stellarregions]

Ah, it was time for the immensely stressful part of his day. And as much as he protested, Gren's military escort was even less understanding about things than the nurse had been. He was starting to wonder if perhaps he should have simply slept through the day, as well.

The only up side was that the medication seemed to have kicked in, finally, and he was feeling reasonably human. No tremors, no other obvious symptoms of withdrawal. Of course, he wasn't seen a whole lot of benefit, either. If they were going to turn him into a junkie all over again, they could have at least let him have a little fun. With a sigh, he stripped down and headed into the showers, caring little, this time, for who saw him. Either they'd be smart enough to keep their curiosity to themselves, or he'd find some way to deal with it.

Thankfully, everyone seemed to be keeping their eyes to themselves. He finished quickly, toweled off, and got out of there as fast as possible.

[To here.]

[unmocked-lawr.livejournal.com]

As much as Javert normally enjoyed the opportunity to take a hot shower, the novelty of it had long since worn off, and the water stung his recent injuries. Besides, he had a meeting with Lamperouge, and he if he knew the young man at all--even if it was mostly by reputation--he'd be swamped with meetings from the moment he arrived.

No sense in delaying, then. Javert stepped out of the shower, toweled off, dressed, and headed to the Sun Room without a word.

[unmocked-lawr.livejournal.com]

[propheteer]

Even for someone like Izaya, there were limits to his hobby of human observation when it came to shared showers. It wasn't a matter of being embarrassed by the exposed flesh of others—though when it came to observing, he himself would have rather remained clad if that had been a choice, but that would have drawn undue attention no matter whether it was public showers or a public bath. It wasn't that he might get called a pervert for looking at the other men while they bathed, either; if he'd been worried about little things like that coming from people who didn't understand his interests, he would have quit his hobby long ago. And it definitely wasn't from a lack of interest, either; people could act differently when their clothes were removed, and even something as simple as noticing someone (him) watching them could have had all sorts of interesting results.

No, his limits were purely of a practical sort. Divided shifts seemed to be common around here, but even if men made up the majority of the Institute's population, that population was further divided by the separation of the children and the adults. While that, too, had possibilities of interesting actions, reactions, and interactions, when he wiped water and soap away from his eyes to glance at the exit, he could see that those who'd washed quickly were already heading too leave. The group of humans here was dividing more and more, and while every facet was of interest, it was unfortunate that there were fewer possibilities in the showers.

And, perhaps, a little caution wouldn't hurt. Even if it was safer for him with Shizuo gone—the thought of provoking him in the showers had crossed his mind before, because with a little luck the brute would have slipped and cracked open his skull on the tile floor—there could still be someone who would react badly to being observed in here, and Izaya didn't want to end up being the one with the cracked skull.

For today, the Sun Room held more possibilities. He finished his shower within a few minutes, dried himself and dressed, and then headed back into that room.

[To here]

[commentated.livejournal.com]

Right, everyone raise your hand if you ever thought communal and shower were two words that should ever go together. No? That was because they fucking weren't, okay. Communal showers were not made for people like him. They were made for big guys with Russian tattoos. People like him were the little guys whose first instinct was to hide in the shower stall to change after gym class.

Oh God, he was gonna die. He'd seen Oz, okay? The only thing missing were some neo-Nazis and that little hat. And don't tell him this was a military-slash-mental-institute-slash...whatever, and not a maximum security prison. When a bunch of guys around you were a goddamn head taller and the guards were holding large guns and someone had apparently dressed him in the middle of the night (??? oh Jesus, how had that just occurred to him, shit), there was little comfort to be found in semantics.

—And yeah, he probably wasn't being fair and he should give them a chance and these were all nice people he was sure—yeah, he was naked in public, throw him a goddamn bone here.

Harry slid nervously into the stall as far as possible from the surrounding population. Since he was pretty damn sure you weren't interested in the details of him taking a shower (or maybe you were, who knows what...things you people were into these days), anyway, point is, all you're getting is the Cliff Notes:

Shortest. Fucking. Shower.

Ever.

[fleeing here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1153450.html?thread=79493290#t79493290)]

[hat_einen_vogel]

The showers were just about the last place Prussia wanted to be right now.

It wasn't the first time they'd been to the showers since the gassing of the mess, but the event was fresh in his mind again after telling West about it yesterday—and maybe thinking about it was even worse now because of telling West about it yesterday. In any case, he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

He stripped quickly, hopping under the first empty showerhead he came across and scrubbing himself clean in record time. As soon as he finished, he toweled himself dry and dressed once more, heading into the Sun Room.

[To here]

[threepwood]

Despite how promising breakfast had been— his conversation with Doctor Facilier, not the actual meal itself— all of it was pushed from Guybrush's mind as the soldier led him to the place he dreaded most of all: the showers. They were a nightmare to the Mighty Pirate™, who felt far less mighty than implied by his title when surrounded by porcelain and plagued with the memory of his shower-time conversation with LeChuck, which resulted in a mental image that was forever scarred into his mind.

And much like the nurse, the soldier wasn't taking any of his excuses for an answer. "I'm really not dirty," he insisted as the soldier continued toward the showers without a word. "In fact, I feel cleaner than I have in years! I should probably not risk being too clean by just staying in the Sun Room for now. I could use the exposure anyway. Have you seen how pale—"

"The showers, Moriarty," the soldier said sternly as they reached the door. "You will be having one."

"Ooor I could just skip it" Guybrush replied with a sheepish smile. "I took one a few days ago, and still feel pretty fresh."

"You will be taking one, or we will put you on report and you'll not get any meals for the rest of the day."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Have you even seen what they're feeding us?"

The soldier passed between Guybrush and the rest of the Sun Room, stepping forward to force him into the bathroom. "Shower. Now."

And so came the walk across the bathroom, through which Guybrush had to be toted by two soldiers due to the mildly shameful, panic-stricken fit he immediately had. It was a good thing he was flimsier than most pirates: it made carrying him past the numerous urinals easier. Beyond the blatantly porcelain toilets and into the room of questionably porcelain tiles (they could have been another kind of ceramic, he told himself), he was left to his own devices. Once he was finished huddling in a corner, rocking back and forth, convincing himself that this still wasn't the most traumatic thing he'd ever faced, he undressed and headed toward an empty shower head.

He picked a relatively secluded one in the corner this time, deciding that his previous choices of ones near the entrance were just asking for someone like LeChuck to come looking for trouble. As much as he didn't want to see his nemesis, the knowledge he hadn't escaped after all would undoubtedly be one positive mark in the sea of increasingly unpleasant happenings.

Speaking of unpleasant happenings, Guybrush's towel began to slip as he squeezed shampoo into his hand (which, with the other hand being a hook, was more awkward than one might expect). With his natural reaction being to catch the falling towel, the shampoo bottle clattered noisily to the floor. These kinds of locations were just plain problematic.

[Mike!]

[hiddenbadass]

Coming from his breakfast conversation with Niikura, Mike couldn't exactly be called more relaxed--he almost never relaxed--but he was better than before. He knew he could function as himself now. Which wasn't exactly a normal person, but it was who he was (he was a mutant turtle turned human who might be able to turn into a turtle again--what part of him was normal?).

People didn't seem to react too badly to his visible scars, which was still rather surprising. Of course, it wasn't often that he showered, either. Mike was apprehensive about it. Last thing he needed was someone else's pity.

But the shirt had to come off, and no complaining would change that. Instead, he fought with his clothes quietly. He hated clothes, but he hated worse the ideas of people constantly staring at him and his man parts dangling freely between his legs. Even if he hated it, those, and everything else, had to come off, too. Eventually he was standing there naked and very much not looking down.

A bit more fighting with fitting a towel around his waste, and he began to walk over to the showers. Mike did his best to find a relatively quiet corner with only one other guy there. Mike noticed briefly that the other guy was missing a hand, but didn't comment. That wasn't exactly something that he liked to talk about himself, and he was pretty sure the other guy felt the same way.

... although it would be kinda cool to have a hook.

He was working on trying to soap up his chest when a loud sound at his feet made him jump back into a crouch, one knee pressed to the floor. Mike found himself staring at a bottle. Yes, a bottle. Not a mine, not a barrage of bullets, or anything else that was remotely dangerous. And now he was crotch height to half the people in the showers (shell humans just looked so wrong down there).

Great going, Mike. Way to appear normal.

He frowned a bit at the offending shampoo bottle, then picked it up. He almost offered it to the man right then and there, but thought better about doing so on one knee, and quickly stood up.

"Uh, here," Mike offered the bottle awkwardly, looking faintly embarrassed. "You caught me by surprise."

[not-rly-fai.livejournal.com]

He'd almost started to feel at ease with the breakfast conversation when little things started to happen to put him on edge. There was an odd sort of feeling, like being watched, then little flickers at the edge of his vision. It wasn't until he'd glanced up from the breakfast table that he finally saw her.

Sakura.

Her eyes never left him. And at first he was relieved. Had they let Sakura out? Was she a patient now rather than some sealed away experiment? But the closer he looked, the more he was sure that it was only an apparition. A spirit. And if so, did that mean that she was... dead?

She couldn't be. Somehow he was sure he would've known. Perhaps he wasn't as connected to his Sakura as Yue was to the younger one from another world, but he was certain he would've felt something, known somehow. Then again, he hadn't known she was in this world at all until the doctor showed her to them.

It was almost with a bit of relief that he was escorted to showers, washed quickly, and dressed again in his uniform in a matter of minutes. His hair was still a little damp as he picked up his beret, but one of the soldiers stopped him, pinning another button on with the other. He looked quizzically at it, but didn't ask, and took care to brush his hair over the injured eye before placing the cap on top of his head.

Moments later and he was already gone, glancing around worriedly for any sign of the spirit.

[here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1153450.html?thread=79477930#t79477930)]

[brb-burgers.livejournal.com]

At least they had showers, fully stocked with all the amenities any decent, groom-conscious person might want. Peeling out of his clothes had been interesting, still quite sore from the shocking that he'd gotten the night before. Seemed that wherever on his body was closest enough to the chair they'd strapped him in is where the spark had grounded, burning and not healing quickly like he was used to. After a few moments of awkward positioning, grumbling and looking in the mirrors he was pretty certain he'd found the majority of the injuries. After, he let his head drop forward, soaking his hair in the water and just feeling the warm spray patter over the back of his neck.

For a second he'd been tempted to nudge his glasses closer to his face but they were securely folded with his pile of clothes. But for right now he was thinking and shifting his priorities and trying to come to grips with the sudden switch that this place had brought over him in terms of power, control and strength. Three things he held quite near and dear. Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes he made a brief face before motivating himself to lather his hair up.

There'd be no use moping around or griping about anything. The only way anything got done around here was if you did it yourself. And the day time here was all lies and illusions and he was going to find that damn doctor and knock him senseless. Maybe worse. Probably worse-- definitely fucking worse. Because if he had really destroyed part of his United States of America, there was definitely going to be some serious retribution come down on the head of the boss of this place.

[for England]