Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freewill) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-08-21 01:09 pm
freewill) wrote in damned_institute2011-08-21 01:09 pm
Day 58: Men's Showers (Second Shift)
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.]
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.]
no subject
...That created a troublesome thought. Did he used to know more about humans - more about the world in general - before he'd been put in stasis for a century? He'd never cared much about the daily lives of humans, but now he was starting to regret not paying more attention to those kind of details in the past four years. Maybe if he had done that, then he would've understood certain things better, like food and showers and whatever the hell this annoying appendage was. Thinking of how he probably used to know about these things was irritating, as knowledge like that would really be useful right now.
That irritation, however, was barely noticeable in his answer to the man's question. "I've always gotten clean with water. Why should human bodies be any different to wash?"
no subject
"You need soap to get the dirt off, besides, if you don't use soap, there's a chance you could get sick. That's what my Ma always told me."
Something else suddenly occurred to the thief as he thought about the guy's response. He'd said 'human bodies' as if he didn't have one, or, well, didn't usually have one. Was he something...not human? Like Terra was half Esper; could this guy be something else and then, for whatever reason, wasn't anymore?
"You say 'human' like you're not one. If you're not human, what are you then?"
no subject
Once again, maybe if he had paid more attention to human life or somehow regained that knowledge, then he wouldn't have to have all this ire over not knowing.
He would ignore the man's lecture and instead answer his next question, which would hopefully clear things up between them. "I was a Reploid before I woke up here in this body." He wouldn't explain further unless the man asked. Reploids had been around for two or three centuries, after all. No one was unaware of them as far as he knew.
no subject
"Sorry, but, I've never heard of something like that before. Though, that might explain why you don't know how soap works." He tried smiling at him. Locke wasn't out to offend anyone, he just couldn't really comprehend how anyone wouldn't know something so basic like cleaning or anything else one did on a day-to-day basis.
no subject
...At the same time, however, the man's first response was interesting and largely unexpected. "...Wait. You've never heard of a Reploid?" Zero blinked in mild surprise. Seriously? How can someone not have heard of a Reploid before? ...Maybe he just didn't hear him correctly?
no subject
"There aren't any 'Reploids' where I come from. What exactly are they? Beast-like creatures or human-like?"
Locke's desire to know sort of superseded any thoughts about soap; it interested him that there were completely different species in this place as well.
"Ah, though, you've been in the water long enough, you're probably clean enough to leave now..."