Loki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
complicatedliar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2012-03-03 05:54 pm
complicatedliar) wrote in damned_institute2012-03-03 05:54 pm
Day 62: Sun Room (Second Shift)
The line of questioning that Rita had begun at breakfast still plagued Loki, as did his own uncomfortable feelings about the entire concept of people being transformed into monsters. It wasn't a useful line of thought, and he needed a better direction to consider.
Hopefully, conversation with Soma would provide that. While she seemed quite stern at times, Loki found her presence oddly relaxing.
Though he had to wonder if perhaps he wouldn't end up seeing her this shift after all, since she might be included in the group that was being herded to the showers. (As much as the statement also was one he greeted with relief, since he was wondering when he'd get an opportunity to bathe. The thought of being trapped in a building with a great many mortals and no bathing facilities had been too horrifying to contemplate.) He'd always been a bit bad at guessing the ages of mortals, mostly because they were so ridiculously short-lived.
Having already established a neurotic fear of the cold with his nurse, there was no difficulty convincing her that he'd be much better off in the Sun Room. Loki settled into his habitual seat, taking a moment to coax one of the cats into his lap. All settled in, he propped his notebook on the arm of the chair and went back to writing.
[Soma?]
Hopefully, conversation with Soma would provide that. While she seemed quite stern at times, Loki found her presence oddly relaxing.
Though he had to wonder if perhaps he wouldn't end up seeing her this shift after all, since she might be included in the group that was being herded to the showers. (As much as the statement also was one he greeted with relief, since he was wondering when he'd get an opportunity to bathe. The thought of being trapped in a building with a great many mortals and no bathing facilities had been too horrifying to contemplate.) He'd always been a bit bad at guessing the ages of mortals, mostly because they were so ridiculously short-lived.
Having already established a neurotic fear of the cold with his nurse, there was no difficulty convincing her that he'd be much better off in the Sun Room. Loki settled into his habitual seat, taking a moment to coax one of the cats into his lap. All settled in, he propped his notebook on the arm of the chair and went back to writing.
[Soma?]
no subject
There was no way Depth Charge was about to go to the courtyard- he might as well have made a round trip to the recreational field and called it returning to the scene of the crime- and so it was off to the sun room he sloped to collapse down onto one of those man-eating sofas. At least the cats were back. He'd only been sitting for a few minutes, stretched out across a two-seater sofa, when one snaked its way across the floor and leapt up onto the cushion next to him, looking up at him presumptuously.
Depth Charge simply raised an eyebrow back. "Seriously?" Soliciting petting from a guy who'd done nothing but wreck the joint last night? He paused, faintly disbelieving- and then reached out to ruffle the cat's ears with an irritated sigh. "Cats really are stupid."
Truth was, all it had done was remind him of another stupid cat- one who'd probably have gotten his problem a lot quicker, though more by way of empathy than intelligence. Primus. What would he say if any one of those slaggers turned up here, huh? Even in another universe he couldn't keep things together. Then again, they'd probably figured that out by now anyway.
[free]
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So, of course, he walked up to the one of thee two that was less likely to bite him if rubbed the wrong way, and ruffled D.C.'s hair from behind the sofa. "Looks like you made a new friend."
Before the guy could take too much offense, he transferred his hand to the cat, who was an equal-opportunity cuddler, it seemed. It sniffed his fingers and then headbutted his hand. "Anything exciting happen last night? I was out for the count."
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"Slagger," Depth Charge finished, in a decidedly less threatening voice. Instead of batting S.T. away he rolled his eyes, letting himself drop back into the cushions and his shoulders relax again. "What can I say? Cats like fish."
The dryness wasn't just limited to his words, though; he could feel his throat clenching a little as he put together an answer for S.T.'s question. A question which, surprisingly, he found that he wanted to answer. Lying to an ally about it... that wouldn't have sat well with him, especially when just about any idiot who'd looked out to the back of the Institute would have known. "Something like that. Guess who got a little call from the orderlies?"
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"Tell me last night was brainwashing, not torture. It was, right?" He flashed his pearly whites and let the words run out like a sewer drain. Half shit, half acid rain, completely unstoppable. No one fucked around with his friends -- shit, he'd actually thought that word, in the plural. At some point the people around him were going to see through this whole Sangamon Taylor: World's Biggest Asshole thing. Corporate secretaries would go from fleeing to pouting. Vice-presidents would actually think they had clout. Bad news at 11.
Meanwhile, Depth Charge was still trying to fake nonchalance. "No harm, no foul. Work out a little aggression, everyone heals like a superhero, win-win situation."
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But part of him, the part that seethed and struggled against his conscience, just couldn't accept that. It was easy enough for S.T. to just sit there and look serene about it, but as far as Depth Charge was concerned he'd failed himself. Not only that, but they'd gotten to him in the most personal way imaginable: they'd implanted their virus into his processor turned him into their puppet, and so wholly that it still felt more like a dream than reality to him. So wholly that he'd... he'd...
"I got the Scarecrow," he said flatly, voice dropping below a growl. He felt as though he were lying on some therapist's couch. "Doesn't seem like 'no harm' to me."
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Were you actually a giant robot last night? And where did they fit you and leave the building standing? S.T. didn't say either of those out loud. Nor did the half-formed thought that it was too bad he'd sacked out last night and missed it. Because exactly what D.C. needed was to be beating himself up about trying to eviscerate one more person.
If it was S.T., he'd have sulked. Taken the boat out in foul weather with a hangover just to look pathetic. And then felt better, despite his best efforts, because it was hard to be angry at anyone out on the water. Except the assholes that were turning it into a toxic graveyard, but that was different. One of these days he'd be able to go fishing out there without being haunted by spectrographs and statistics.
"He'll forgive you. Probably already has."
no subject
Past the initial naivety his roommate wasn't stupid, and he knew that. But equally that meant that the Scarecrow should have known the risks when he charged out onto that recreational field- he should have known that there was nothing he could do, that he'd just end up hurt.
It was also exactly what Depth Charge would have done in that situation, and he knew it. 'cause that had been half of their problem, hadn't it? Him treating the Scarecrow like he couldn't do anything when, truthfully, he was barely any better himself.
He looked up tiredly, raking his fingers through his hair. "Maybe I don't deserve it. Could be healthier to hold a grudge."
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Maybe they needed a night off. Tough shit. They couldn't afford one, aside from brainwashing or narcolepsy. He had about fifty things to do and only one of him, and D.C. was the same.
"I'd offer you both some beer." It was probably ready. Past ready, maybe, but he'd been too busy pissing off his newest roommate to check. "Have a few, talk it out over dinner. Before you go try to pet Tabby here when she's gone all were-kitty or whatever he does at night." He shrugged. "But he doesn't like beer."