Day 69: Sun Room

[envy_the_sinners]

[From here]

Scar lumbered into the sun room, hair still damp from the shower. He had been sure to be as quick as possible. The damn communal shower was miserable.

He settled down in one of the couches, his shoulders drooped and eyes tired. What the hell had happened out in the courtyard? One moment, he had been fine, and the next he had been completely deaf. Had something been done to him when he died? His ears were fine, as far as he could tell.

At least he could sit in a comfortable chair in the sun. The small luxury was something he would never take for granted after camping in the wilderness and the sewers of Central for years. There was too much on his mind, too much to keep track of. The simple knowledge that Frank was dead was enough to sap the energy out of him. He was too tired to even be angry.

[Alphonse!]

Comments

[avengingfists]

[from here]

Ilia's first move once she finished up her shower was to head for the bulletin board. A few more patients had responded since the last she had checked. There was even a note from Lana, which Ilia replied to as quickly as possible. That done, she had the rest of the afternoon to herself.

Ilia moved to one of the chairs that was vacant and sat. Immediately one of the kittens left to roam ran over and began swatting at her leg playfully. Smiling, she picked it up and scratched behind its ears. The grey color of it was almost blue, and she was reminded of Roddick... Looking up, another guest of the institute was nearby and Ilia had no qualms about making some conversation. At least it would pass time until dinner. "Had a good day so far?"

[toxicspiderman]

"On a scale of phone banking to a holding cell in Delaware," S.T. said, looking like he was giving it real consideration, "I'd put it at waiting in line for tickets to a show that probably sold out over the phone an hour ago. The possibility of something actually happening is just non-zero enough that everyone hasn't gone home." He'd never actually had to phone bank. He'd come in to GEE later, as enough of a big shot that he could rally the troops and bring pizza and then go be flashy in the harbor to get at least one yuppie to dig out his satellite phone and call in from his yacht.

It all meant Sangamon was used to impossible odds, and he said so. "I'm an eco-activist. Spitting upwind in an acid rainstorm is what we do. But when we lose we know it. None of this falling asleep halfway through the ballgame and not even being able to pick up a paper with the scores in the morning."

Well, there was the body count. Shitty way to keep track, and half the people had cheat codes. Just not the people he wanted to see alive. Even Two-Face, who didn't get to be permanently dead, since the only people who stayed dead in Batman were his parents.

[avengingfists]

Ilia chuckled. Clever guy, huh. She had to wonder how he would do in a battle of wits versus someone like Rose, but she pushed the image aside before thoughts of the lost girl left her empty. "Could be worse, I guess. Boredom is better than action here, since action often leads to a syringe happy orderly."

"I'm a sort of eco-activist, too," Ilia said with a shrug. "Personally, I don't take losing sitting down." Though she was sitting down right now, but that was a different point entirely.

She waved to the chair nearby. This could be interesting. "Been here long then, I would assume?" He seemed familiar, even if she didn't know him. Just a common face seen around the institute since he arrived.

[toxicspiderman]

Someone else who knew what the words eco-activist even meant. The dead-eye stares were worse than the sneers at the poor deluded duck-squeezer who thought he could make a difference. Then again, the Institute grew back missing wings like an earthworm on steroids. Conservation politics were kind of irrelevant when conservation of matter wasn't even on the table.

"It's harder to throw someone out of the Capitol when they're sitting down, actually." Basic non-violent resistance training. The drum full of fake-toxic sludge just helped. (Faking the toxic, not the sludge. Good old dirt, with only the usual dose of heavy metals found anywhere that pre-dated unleaded gasoline and post-dated cars.) He threw himself into the chair. "A day was too fucking long. It's been a month or so."