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_institute2012-06-12 12:15 pm
freewill) wrote in damned_institute2012-06-12 12:15 pm
Day 64: Waiting Room/Lobby 2 (Fourth Shift)
The time spent with Izaya hadn't led to much, but that might have also been due to the fact that Castiel wasn't functioning at full energy. If he'd been sharper, if he hadn't had his body holding him back every step of the way, maybe he would have worked harder to try and get some information out of the other patient.
As it was, Castiel had spent most of the day dealing with aches and pains on random parts of his body. None of it seemed to follow any pattern, and the rash on his hand was still there, making itself obvious to the rest of the patient body. He was, to be frank, exhausted -- and while part of him wished to fight against that because angels weren't supposed to get tired, the other part felt this urge to lie down.
He remembered how Dean had explained to him that he needed a certain amount of sleep each night. He also remembered how it had annoyed him at the time, how he had seen it as a waste. He would have apologized to Dean for his ignorance now, if he could have.
While the idea had been to spend the last shift in the Sun Room so he could at least lay down and rest, the nurses had another plan for him. He was told instead that there were some visitors who had come to see them, and before he knew it he'd been placed in some sort of waiting room. Castiel remembered looking into this room once before, though it had been night at the time. Now he knew what its purpose was.
He stood there awkwardly for a few moments before his nurse urged him to take a seat. Castiel found a chair and settled himself onto it, but he couldn't relax. He placed a hand against his injured shoulder, prodding at it for a moment. Who would possibly want to come visit him? There were a few options, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions.
As it was, Castiel had spent most of the day dealing with aches and pains on random parts of his body. None of it seemed to follow any pattern, and the rash on his hand was still there, making itself obvious to the rest of the patient body. He was, to be frank, exhausted -- and while part of him wished to fight against that because angels weren't supposed to get tired, the other part felt this urge to lie down.
He remembered how Dean had explained to him that he needed a certain amount of sleep each night. He also remembered how it had annoyed him at the time, how he had seen it as a waste. He would have apologized to Dean for his ignorance now, if he could have.
While the idea had been to spend the last shift in the Sun Room so he could at least lay down and rest, the nurses had another plan for him. He was told instead that there were some visitors who had come to see them, and before he knew it he'd been placed in some sort of waiting room. Castiel remembered looking into this room once before, though it had been night at the time. Now he knew what its purpose was.
He stood there awkwardly for a few moments before his nurse urged him to take a seat. Castiel found a chair and settled himself onto it, but he couldn't relax. He placed a hand against his injured shoulder, prodding at it for a moment. Who would possibly want to come visit him? There were a few options, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions.
no subject
After the child's acquiesce, Cris sat down carefully, hands folding languidly in his lap. "I know you don't know us, but we've kept you in our thoughts this past month. I wanted to check on you." He gave a friendly smile, then glanced Nigel over. "It looks like your injuries have healed, huh? Bet that was the easiest part of all of this."
no subject
"It's fine," he replied evenly. "Thank you for your concern. Though, to be honest, I didn't expect you to--" Here, he forced a hard swallow. Feigned discomfort could elicit a certain conversation path. "--visit me after that."
Whatever 'that' happened to be.
no subject
Though he did agree with Cris's prior argument. Nigel had a family. So why, when they called to see if they could visit, wasn't the one day that the child could have visitors already taken?
It was a bit too much to think about. Anything that Cris might have said was cut off by Jon coming forward, taking the plant up again, before holding it out. "You don't even know us, and we're talking at you like this."
Cris blinked at that, an almost comical show of surprise. "Oh! Right. I'm Cris, and this is Jonathan. We were never really introduced, ha ha."
Never introduced, but two men with a laid-back schedule could notice a child's likes. Cris had suggested bringing a plant, but it was Jon who acknowledged seeing that particular child staring at plants quite often. "Here."
The shorter man smiled wanly at the seemingly unfriendliness of the other, then filled in the blanks. "We thought you might like to have this in your room. Bring a little life into this place."
no subject
Finally, his face flushed a bright pink, and he reached for the plant with two awkward hands. "Thank you," he gave meekly, eyes fixed on the bright leaves. "I'll take good care of it."
And unlike most declarations to those unfamiliar, Nigredo meant this one to its very core. He had, after all, a fondness for plants.
no subject
The light-hearted reaction may have fit the scene, but Jon stared at Nigel, eyes locked on. "Will you take care of it? No matter what happens."
It was something of an irregularity to say, and Cris looking back at the other, before understanding. Something for stability. Something to care for when there may be nothing else. Something to focus, when the mind was shifting far too much. The shorter of the men dropped to silence, and let the interaction play out.
Jon continued, repeating the intention, "Can you promise to watch over it?"