norainu: (Normal head shot)
norainu ([personal profile] norainu) wrote in [community profile] damned_institute2011-12-11 01:48 am

Day 60: Music Room (Fourth Shift)

It wasn't often that Renji felt less like punching people in general as his day wore on. This was a new experience for him. A not unwelcome one, if he was being honest. And the fact that he felt less like punching Fai? Kind of mind-blowing. The sort of thing Zen masters would probably use as a kouan to reach an all-new level of non-punching enlightenment.

So he was back from the dead, almost everyone he'd known was gone, and yet bizarrely his day felt like it was looking up. Kind of. Renji wasn't sure what to make of this. Maybe his grumpy meter was just nearing empty. That was as good an explanation as the next, considering how this place made him feel.

Whatever the reason, he ended up in the music room. And he remembered oh yeah. He'd always kind of hated this damn shift. He grabbed a little book of music and a drum and retreated quickly to the far end of the room. He put the drum down in front of him just so he looked like he was doing something and opened the book. But he had no idea how to read music, and really, he was more interested in the ongoing puzzle of what the hell had happened in the last four weeks.

And brooding. Of course. There was always brooding to be done.

[Okay Tolten, let me lay it out for you. When there's a mommy and a daddy... or sometimes a daddy and a dadddy. Or, hell, sometimes a mommy and a mommy if you buy the right kind of wood cuts (and a third mommy if you go to just the right shop)... but anyway when they love each other very much, or at least a suitably large amount of money changes hands, there are some things that happen...]

Kirk trekked in from- i bet you were waiting to use that =p

[identity profile] hes-deadjim.livejournal.com 2011-12-13 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
The first thing Jim did with his afternoon to prove he wasn't a lab experiment or plastered against a wall after last night by being the exact image of Kirk when he first met him by being a pain, and yet, so Jim. McCoy's elation was short lived. Exasperation, the fond and resigned sort, set in. The child sized cymbals didn't make for a dignified look on the Captain, nor did Jim actually using them with plenty of enthusiasm. It reminded him vaguely of Joanna when she used to do something she knew would would get your attention in the most annoying way possible and most importantly, get attention.

Kirk had his attention. He would've had it just be virtue of being Jim and being alive and hopefully unharmed after last night. McCoy's eyebrow's furrowed as he frowned down at the cymbals.

"It's aggravating my head now. You mind?" McCoy groused. He studied the other man carefully, looking for any signs of injuries or tenderness. "I was looking for you and Uhura."