dualistic: (isn't it tragic?)
Harvey Dent / Two-Face ([personal profile] dualistic) wrote in [community profile] damned_institute2012-01-27 11:42 am

Day 61: Greenhouse

While Harvey never really enjoyed having to babysit one of the newer patients, he had to admit that Barnaby had been pretty easy to deal with. He'd been composed, quiet, and focused, which was a lot better than some of the other patients who only gave confused looks or had over-the-top reactions to everything they heard.

The point was, that conversation had almost been enjoyable, which was strange for Harvey to admit. He didn't know how Barnaby was going to manage in this place in the long run, but he wouldn't be surprised if he found his feet eventually and then did decently well for himself. It wasn't Harvey's job to care either way, but the close quarters they were kept in meant he'd probably end up finding out anyway.

Unfortunately, a positive note could only last for so long. As usual, it was a nurse who ruined it by insisting that he should go to the greenhouse for the last shift of the day. "Mr. Eckhart, it's not cold in there, so it shouldn't be any strain on you. It might be nice to help something grow, don't you think?"

He didn't dignify any of that with a response and instead resigned himself to his fate. He was one of the first people to make it into the muggy greenhouse, and he realized that he wasn't a fan of being cold or being hot. He fanned the air in front of his face for a few seconds and then went to find somewhere to sit down.

All the plants were lined up in pots; it almost felt like they were staring at him, waiting for him to do something about it. Well, that wasn't gonna happen.

[For Peter Parker.]
girlsandgadgets: ([insight])

[personal profile] girlsandgadgets 2012-02-04 11:25 am (UTC)(link)
Having been given a pair of small shears and instructed to trim the dead leaves off a bush, Edgar had purposefully kept himself within eyeshot of the door, hoping to cross paths with someone of interest. With the men separated from the women for the shift, finding Terra would be out of the question; he'd spoken to Locke already and left him to deal with his own affairs. There were others he'd not seen in some time, but not spotting any of them upon his entrance, he'd decided to make himself visible and hope they would come to him.

And indeed, one did. He looked his shoulder as he heard Ryuuzaki's familiar tone. "I agree. Landel isn't an ideal warden, but at least what he feeds us is palatable."

In his glance, he spotted the nurse, still standing nearby. The smile he cast her was returned briefly, but she stayed within earshot. Edgar turned back to his work. "You're looking much better than when I last saw you."
ryuuzaki: (sigh - animated)

[personal profile] ryuuzaki 2012-02-14 09:10 am (UTC)(link)
"If I looked much worse than the last time you saw me, I probably wouldn't be out of bed," L replied. "But you know how it is. This place is so good for recovery." He wondered if the hovering nurse would catch the dry note in that statement, the hint of irony... No, she's as oblivious to it as ever.

The nurse inclined her head towards a small starter tray a few feet away. Its compartments were filled with soil, and there were several dozen seeds in a plastic dish just next to it: he retrieved the lot, bringing everything back closer to Edgar. When he reached for a hand trowel, though, he was intercepted by the nurse. She passed him a plastic spoon and nodded at the tray again, all encouragement. A few of the compartments had divots in their tops, making it clear how the spoon and seeds were to be used.

He gave her a half-smile which he intended to be ingratiating but which seemed sickly, at best, and when he turned away, it mutated into a hooded, resentful look. Then he sighed, and even that faded. His primary interest was in appearing to be busy in a way that would bore the staff, and for that, a spoon would do as well as a trowel. A mask of compliance was useful, and it might be bad for him if it slipped. It was only that tolerating the constant infantilization wore thin sometimes.

He held the handle of the spoon daintily, with the tips of his fingers, and dipped the end of the bowl into hitherto-undisturbed dirt. This appeared to satisfy the nurse, who moved to a nearby group.

"Mr. Lunge and I made it most of the way to the ballroom last night. We'll be able to use one of the rings to return there, now." He kept his voice pitched low: enough that only Edgar could hear it, without it appearing to anyone else to be anything as conspicuous or conspiratorial as actual whispering.
Edited 2012-02-14 09:12 (UTC)