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

So...he hasn't actually noticed it yet, I take it.

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

Badd's free hand crumpled into a first, and it was only the knowledge that the guards were nearby that kept him from violence. He had to think of Byrne. He'd be no good to Byrne if he was sedated and stuffed in a corner. The big picture? Who cared. The place could drown, as long as Badd saved the innocent and punished the guilty.

Wait a minute, that name was familiar.

Badd smirked, though the expression was more of a scowl than anything good-humored. It had taken a few moments to work its way through his anger-charged mind, everything seemed red today when it wasn't turning sickly cream. "Oh, yeah, that Shou Niikura wannabe vigilante. Seems to fancy himself a killer, doesn't seem to fancy you at all." And seemed to fancy Badd a bit too much but whatever, an obtrusive fanboy was better than a knife in the back. "He wasn't too happy either when I told him what you were. I'm not sure which one I'd lay money on at your age in a fair fight, if it's possible for you to even have a fair fight, but I'd be glad to sell tickets to him beating the smile out of you."

Niikura adored being frisky and mysterious, so Byrne still wasn't completely sure how much of what he claimed to be able to do was true. In his right mind Badd would have tried to talk him out of it. Someone's innocence shouldn't be stained so young, and murder was too large a choice for a child to make. But right now someone needed to be punished and he barely cared who, or what the consequences would be for such violence.

Nope! :) He is completely oblivious~.... so far

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Gant's muscles slacked when Badd started babbling on about Shou. So it had been Badd all along. He was the snitch, that bastard! Gant could feel the red-hot anger rising. Thank god his tan was still pretty dark, or else me might have looked particularly tomato-ish right about then.

Placing a hand against the tiled wall to keep himself steady, Gant did all he could to keep calm. Sometimes a bit of madness seemed to shine behind his eyes when under extreme duress, and it was sparking there again, just as it had back when he had been accused of the Goodman murder. Only this time he wasn't going to leave smiling. There wasn't anything to smile about with this kind of conclusion. Not at all.

"So you're the one..." Gant's voice was low, barely perceptible, but he raised it again, accusingly. "You actually gave out that kind of information to a psychopath like Showy? That kid is serious! And you want to risk him actually doing one of his suicide murders?"

Covering his eyes with one hand, Gant did all he could in his power to calm down. God, he was glad there wasn't any sharp objects around, because who knew if his bad habit of stabbing meddlers would have reared it head.

.... Fine. Things would be fine. He had a weapon (or sure as hell had better after that damn drug test) and he would use it when necessary. But he wouldn't object to it "accidentally" discharging if he ever saw Badd at night... No. No, he couldn't do that, even if he wanted to. He had semi-promised Lana he had changed, so he would need to do all he could to keep to it. Still, it didn't mean he couldn't get back at Badd in a more indirect way.

"... Suppose I can only return the favor, then."

[tasteoftruth.livejournal.com]

It was only words, and only the lightest of blows to Gant's demeanor, but getting to finally hurt someone was satisfying. "Why not? It'd take care of two problems at once," he said with false joviality. "Two fewer psychotic monsters on the loose. If I can't get the state to give you that necktie you've had coming, I can at least ask around and see if I can get it done freelance."

Badd was still not sure how seriously he was supposed to take Niikura. On the one hand he was a passionate teen and it was impossible to commit a suicide killing more than once--on the other hand, there were zombies here and clones were only slightly less ridiculous. So who knew what the self-proclaimed vigilante was really capable of? Either way, it was to Badd's benefit that he'd pitted the criminals against each other. Badd leaned against the cold shower walls and folded his arms, chin lifted defiantly.

In a better frame of mind he might have considered the possibility that Niikura might go up against Gant and lose. Murdering a teenager was certainly within his range of abilities. But Badd could deal with the entire world burning down if it meant that the monsters burned with it.

[gargantuanlaugh.livejournal.com]

Badd was serious. Seriously crazy, and seriously asking for a death wish. But no, Gant couldn't do that. Or he wouldn't. No, he wouldn't let himself go that far again. If he could help it. But the chief had an awful bad track record of keeping his impulses under control. If he happened to be in the same vicinity as Badd and also in possession of his scalpels then who knew what the outcome might be.

As it stood, he didn't have a weapon here, so the balding ex-detective would get away. This time.

Gant found himself chuckling, and even sounded a bit unhinged to his own ears. But who cared what Badd thought now? Maybe Gant was a little on the insane side by now. Landel's kind of did make one start questioning after a while. "You're delusional if you think Showy isn't one hundred percent serious. And you're more disgusting than me if you'd risk a kid's life in order to get back at a washed-up old man for just a tiny bit of satisfaction." Some might have said that Gant was no better, but at least he had never threatened a teenager's life. Sure, he got Ema into a scrape before, but that was different.

Turning away from Badd, but not completely away in case the other man decided to do something crazy, Gant started to vigorous work on washing his hair. The quicker he could get out of here and away from Badd's presence, the better.