damned_institute | Day 25: Intercom, Evening

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Day 25: Intercom, Evening

The intercom clicked on with its usual jingle, the Head Doctor's voice carrying with a bit more authoritative ease than it had earlier.

"Good evening, patients, and I'm pleased to announce that we've finally finished organizing when our new batch of patients will be introduced, and unfortunately, it'll have to be tonight while you're all in bed. Truly sad, that, as I'm sure all of you are eager to see our new faces as soon as possible!

"In any case, the dinner that will be brought to you tonight will be herb-marinated pork roast with buttery corn-on-the-cob and fluffy mashed potatoes. Of course, we have our usual vegetarian salad available to those who request it, along with our regular assortment of drinks."

He paused and sighed. After all, it had been a long day.

"Oh, of course--Some of you may be unhappy to hear that Dr. Crane and Dr. Jiyani will no longer be serving us here at Landel's Institute. For those of you who were scheduled to have sessions with them, we'll be providing a substitute group therapy session in upcoming days. More details on that tomorrow.

"I believe that's all for now. Enjoy your dinner!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ As always, post to this entry with separate threads for each set of roommates. Thanks! ]

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Midway through the silence, Renji realized that he was grinding his teeth. He made himself relax by force. Out of habit, he ran his fingers through his hair, only to encounter the nasty snarl that the... gag that had been tied on to him had left behind.

He sat up; he managed to keep that slow, because he really did feel tired. But as he began working his fingers through his hair, trying to get the knot out, there was a tremor to his hands and a jerkiness to the movement of his arms that made the motion frantic even if it was slow.

The nagging, biting, just plain annoying feeling to ask finally won out as Hisoka watched his roommate. He was too frazzled, something Muraki was wonderful at doing to others. Things were adding up and as paranoid as it sounded to constantly blame the silverhaired doctor, Hisoka was now positive that it had something to do with him. So without further ado, the boy casually turned his eyes to his fork, watching Renji out of the corner of his eye.

"You had Muraki..."

Renji froze for a moment, then visciously tore the remains of the knot out of his hair. He dropped the ragged ball of hair on the floor, then laid back down.

"Does it matter?" he asked. Hearing the name made him feel sicker, made his voice thick.

It did, because it answered everything.

Absolutely everything.

Hisoka could feel a vicious lash a hatred well up in his chest at the knowledge that there was something else Muraki had ruined. Someone else Muraki had broken. The boy didn't want to know what the bastard had done and merely took another bite from his dinner, not replying to Renji's question.

Renji squeezed his eyes tightly closed, glad that no one could see the shameful expression. "Don't," he said, quietly. "...please."

...He sounded like Tsuzuki. He sounded like the idiot behind his mask of smiles and laughs whenever something was wrong. The similarities sickened him.

A part of Hisoka was waiting for the other man to straighten up and laugh it off like whatever had happened was nothing.

"...Don't what?"

What was he thinking? This was Hisoka. The kid would leave him alone if he just shut up. Or at least he could hope. And... whether he knew or guessed or what, he knew he could at least trust him to keep his suspicions to himself. That was the way Hisoka was.

The kid already hadn't liked him, probably hadn't respected him. Nothing changed. Except now, Renji didn't feel like he deserved any respect, either. So it didn't matter. None of it.

"Never mind."

Never mind.

Never mind.

Hisoka didn't get what irked him by those words so much, but just as Renji suspected, he kept quiet. He had learned exactly what he wanted to learn even though that changed just about nothing. Muraki was still as untouchable-- unkillable-- as ever. Knowing that he had done something else (and that he, himself, was bound to see him tomorrow) did not do anything but make the boy sick with hate. He pushed the mashed potatoes around his plate, eyes narrowed as he fought to think straight.

And not about murder either.

Renji opened his eyes. He didn't want to stare at the wall any longer. Hisoka had brought it up, had shattered his fragile illusion that he really was just going to take a nap. He had things to do before the doors opened. He needed to be responsible, to stop being so pathetic and weak about it. He'd already been pathetic and weak enough for one day.

He stood, still a little unsteady on his feet, and started pulling the sheet off his bed.

Despite Hisoka's attempts, thinking straight didn't come to him easily. If anything, it didn't even bother to grace the empath with even a moment of clarity, leaving the boy even further frustrated and enraged.

Why pick Renji? Did Muraki know he was a shinigami or was whatever had been inflicted done for kicks? Wrong place wrong time...?

"You were beautiful that night."

Hisoka nearly shot out his desk, deciding to follow Renji's lead in preparing for nightshift. Sitting here thinking would only lead to further disaster, he knew this from experience. He didn't always finish his paperwork for nothing...

Renji glanced at Hisoka. Maybe he needed to get stuff ready to. Or maybe... stuff he didn't want to think about. Renji gave himself a little shake, then went back to pulling the sheet off his bed. He laid it out neatly and started collected the metal from the previous night from the places around the room he'd hidden it in. He arranged it carefully on the sheet, mostly so it'd make a manageable bundle that wouldn't clank too much as he ran. Mostly.

And the more detail, the easier it was to ignore everything else.

There were many things he could do right now. He just had absolutely no idea what his assignment would be and bringing the proper equipment would probably help-

It took three long seconds to realize he was itching to pace. He hated dinnershift, being locked in a room was always enough to drive him mad, but being locked in with someone else...?

Hissing under his breath, the boy turned sharply and stalked over to the closet. He could figure out what to bring later, he might as well train now. He had been putting it off for too long already.

Renji paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to see what Hisoka was doing. It was more a nervous tic than any real curiousity. The kid was just getting ready for the evening, he guessed. Which was what he ought to keep working on.

Renji went back to getting the metal into order. After a moment of consideration, he pulled the pillow case off his pillow. He could use it to pad and muffle things a bit. He also had the old, dirty sheet from last night as well.

He found the metal bar easily enough, considering how pitifully it was hidden, and pulled the thing from the closet. Rather than return to the place next to his bed-- and frazzle Renji further (Hisoka could remember how he was when he learned that...)-- Hisoka set the bar on his desk and began stretching.

He wouldn't be able to run like his father trained him to do and archery was out of the question, but he could still do the basics of what he knew...

Renji started tearing the old sheet and the pillowcase into strips; they'd be easier to use that way. He glanced over his shoulder again when he heard Hisoka move and watched for a moment, then nodded and went back to what he was doing. He recognized the stretches. And in the back of his mind, he was a little curious as to what sort of style Hisoka had learned.

But first things first. Business needed to be taken care of.

Finishing up the stretching with a few exercises, Hisoka straightened up and began going through the familiar motions his father had shown him.

Breathe...

It was almost like home. Just without as much hate and fear.

Renji finished up with the pipes and bits of metal. By the time he was done with the needlessly nitpicky task, he felt something approaching normal. Keeping his mind on what needed to be done, on duty, was the key. He focused on moving on, on planning the tasks for the evening out, and shoved the rest away.

I don't have time for being weak.

With the metal wrapped up, he began laying out his other supplies for the night, keeping an eye on Hisoka the entire time. Half of it was curiosity, and half was a sort of paranoia that he didn't want to name.

The feel of Renji's eyes on him the entire time was somewhat unsettling, even though Hisoka could guess the cause. The boy could ignore it easily enough, but he hadn't been watched at all ever since he became shinigami. Dying took away his status of heir to the Kurosaki name, he no longer needed to be constantly pressured to do this or that.

Regardless, Hisoka kept training, the motions almost as familiar as breathing. The five (or six?) days spent not training hadn't done anything to hinder him. For now he would kept practicing though, he could wait a bit before he went to the metal bar (AKA: The makeshift sword)... And he could ignore Renji for the time being. He could try anyway.

Renji did his best not to be creepy about watching. It was just... better than thinking about other things. He was always happy to think about combat, about swords.

He finished laying out everything for the night; the doors were still closed, so he needed some sort of busy work, and he still wasn't feeling steady enough for copying maps. He began to do his own series of stretches, trying not to notice how stiff and sore his arms were.

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Day 25: Intercom, Evening

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