With his shoulder and upper back bleeding through his layers of shirts, and with his vision spotted and starred and his head feeling cracked clean in half (amazing: not good fortune, as good fortune would have been not being whacked in the head with a baseball bat by his partner, but something: his glasses had not broken), Uryuu wouldn't have been surprised if he'd blacked out. He had not--he did not think so, but after dispatching the creature, the brunt of his injuries staggered him, and things became fuzzy. Coinciding nicely with the crackle that did not reach the field outside.
Then it was day. His eyes opened as they had before: without his remembering closing them. It was still disorienting, and it took a moment for him to situate himself in the time, to fully wake. His still pounding head, a throb originating now in his left eye, did not help clarity. Always a morning person, even here, his body resisted sleeping in and stirred before the first announcement. Not long before it, not even a minute; he hadn't fully shaken the last dregs of drowsiness, that uncharacteristic sticking grogginess. Thus as the Head Doctor's voice filled the room, Uryuu still laid prone, staring blearily into the dark room, not even having put on his glasses. He did as much as the intercom silenced (his glasses coming to rest over a bandage high on his nose), and climbed out of bed. The sharp pains as he moved and skin and muscle shifted on his back chased away any lingering tiredness. As with before, his pillow has no casing. The room was as empty and devoid of another person's touch as it had been the night before.. He moved to the closed, opening the door to find a discouraging absence.
There sat, as expected, the makeshift bag, bulging with what he'd packed into it the night before. Yet: no bat. No other things if he took it. Had it been a waste of time, had the Institute cracked down on items discovered during the night? How much time would be wasted each night, then, and what of those with swords? That would be especially unfortunate for Poole-san. Not that he felt particularly generous toward the man at the moment. Pressing his lips thin, he bid back the frustration and kept to task. Bending, he unwound and unpacked the case, so to hang back up the sweatshirts and retrieve his journal. The flashlight and radio he left there. Shutting the door, he set the journal on his desk as he slid on his slippers, and his door not yet having opened to a nurse, made the bed.
As he finished tucking the sheets and blanket beneath the mattress, the door clicked and swung. His same nurse, Uryuu noted, with that same smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Way! Gosh, ready to go, aren't you? You know, you don't have to do all that; you'll put a custodian out of work!" That same annoying chirping. Now with no acknowledgement of his wounds, no look or word. It struck him that he hadn't bothered to learn her name yet; a rude oversight, but he had not been very concerned with showing deference to the staff. Gerard Way, however... he glanced at her tag while taking hold of his journal and a pen.
"Good morning, Susan-sa-- Miss Susan. If I may, have I been- that is, I'm a little muddled this morning," his best go at a sheepish smile; not a very good one, "I feel like I've lost time. As far as I can remember, just yesterday I was all wrapped up," lifting his free hand, wiggling his fingers, "but today-"
The nurse, who had to this moment cycled through a smile (at her name) that turned distinctly vacant, now interrupted with a laugh. "Oh, Mr. Way. Don't be ridiculous. Off to breakfast, let's go!"
She swept him out the door, and Uryuu struggled to prevent his mouth from twisting sour. Why had he ever thought it might be worth even trying to ask them anything? She did allow him his stop to wash up at the bathroom (he grimaced at the giant bruise over his eye, an ugly and violent purple so dark it was nearly black, at the swelling high in the bridge of his nose, wrapped just under his glasses, at the bandages he could see just creeping past his collar and feel over his shoulder, down his back), and another at the bulletin board, before depositing him on line at the cafeteria.
There were a few patients already here. The "Head Doctor" had called the choice this morning pigs in a blanket, a turn of phrase Uryuu had not yet heard in relation to food. It must be an American thing, he thought, and began to humor the thought of what Inoue-san might imagine if she could hear it, until he saw the stuff. It looked and smelled like beef in bread. Still no rice, and a bit too much to experiment with first thing. Thus, he turned to the provided, staple alternatives. A glass of water and a fruit cup would do. Though in fact having no appetite (his head groaned at it), the importance of breakfast was too ingrained in him to shun it entirely. Plus... free food. With his meager portion gathered, along with a fork and napkin, he sat down at a table near to but not directly in front. He faced the door so to watch the others file in. Not directly staring; the fruit cup helped with that.
His right side bearing the brunt of the talons, Uryuu held the cup in his right hand and managed to move with little evidence of stiffness; being left-handed a boon in this instance.
no subject
Then it was day. His eyes opened as they had before: without his remembering closing them. It was still disorienting, and it took a moment for him to situate himself in the time, to fully wake. His still pounding head, a throb originating now in his left eye, did not help clarity. Always a morning person, even here, his body resisted sleeping in and stirred before the first announcement. Not long before it, not even a minute; he hadn't fully shaken the last dregs of drowsiness, that uncharacteristic sticking grogginess. Thus as the Head Doctor's voice filled the room, Uryuu still laid prone, staring blearily into the dark room, not even having put on his glasses. He did as much as the intercom silenced (his glasses coming to rest over a bandage high on his nose), and climbed out of bed. The sharp pains as he moved and skin and muscle shifted on his back chased away any lingering tiredness. As with before, his pillow has no casing. The room was as empty and devoid of another person's touch as it had been the night before.. He moved to the closed, opening the door to find a discouraging absence.
There sat, as expected, the makeshift bag, bulging with what he'd packed into it the night before. Yet: no bat. No other things if he took it. Had it been a waste of time, had the Institute cracked down on items discovered during the night? How much time would be wasted each night, then, and what of those with swords? That would be especially unfortunate for Poole-san. Not that he felt particularly generous toward the man at the moment. Pressing his lips thin, he bid back the frustration and kept to task. Bending, he unwound and unpacked the case, so to hang back up the sweatshirts and retrieve his journal. The flashlight and radio he left there. Shutting the door, he set the journal on his desk as he slid on his slippers, and his door not yet having opened to a nurse, made the bed.
As he finished tucking the sheets and blanket beneath the mattress, the door clicked and swung. His same nurse, Uryuu noted, with that same smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Way! Gosh, ready to go, aren't you? You know, you don't have to do all that; you'll put a custodian out of work!" That same annoying chirping. Now with no acknowledgement of his wounds, no look or word. It struck him that he hadn't bothered to learn her name yet; a rude oversight, but he had not been very concerned with showing deference to the staff. Gerard Way, however... he glanced at her tag while taking hold of his journal and a pen.
"Good morning, Susan-sa-- Miss Susan. If I may, have I been- that is, I'm a little muddled this morning," his best go at a sheepish smile; not a very good one, "I feel like I've lost time. As far as I can remember, just yesterday I was all wrapped up," lifting his free hand, wiggling his fingers, "but today-"
The nurse, who had to this moment cycled through a smile (at her name) that turned distinctly vacant, now interrupted with a laugh. "Oh, Mr. Way. Don't be ridiculous. Off to breakfast, let's go!"
She swept him out the door, and Uryuu struggled to prevent his mouth from twisting sour. Why had he ever thought it might be worth even trying to ask them anything? She did allow him his stop to wash up at the bathroom (he grimaced at the giant bruise over his eye, an ugly and violent purple so dark it was nearly black, at the swelling high in the bridge of his nose, wrapped just under his glasses, at the bandages he could see just creeping past his collar and feel over his shoulder, down his back), and another at the bulletin board, before depositing him on line at the cafeteria.
There were a few patients already here. The "Head Doctor" had called the choice this morning pigs in a blanket, a turn of phrase Uryuu had not yet heard in relation to food. It must be an American thing, he thought, and began to humor the thought of what Inoue-san might imagine if she could hear it, until he saw the stuff. It looked and smelled like beef in bread. Still no rice, and a bit too much to experiment with first thing. Thus, he turned to the provided, staple alternatives. A glass of water and a fruit cup would do. Though in fact having no appetite (his head groaned at it), the importance of breakfast was too ingrained in him to shun it entirely. Plus... free food. With his meager portion gathered, along with a fork and napkin, he sat down at a table near to but not directly in front. He faced the door so to watch the others file in. Not directly staring; the fruit cup helped with that.
His right side bearing the brunt of the talons, Uryuu held the cup in his right hand and managed to move with little evidence of stiffness; being left-handed a boon in this instance.
[ for Kratos, then eventually the derps ]