damned_institute | Day 29: Sun Room

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Day 29: Sun Room

It was with some relief that Yuuhi awoke the next morning, in his own bed, sore and tired and achy. He would've slept more had they let him, his face down in the pillow, away from all the others and their questions and their concern. He didn't want to see them, but he managed a little smile when the nurse came in and didn't object when she lead him out into the open hallway that had been splattered with blood, plenty of it his, just last night.

The Chapel or the Sun Room? He felt he had good reason not to be terribly religious and had a feeling he wouldn't be very welcome there anyway. The Sun Room would be nice though. It was bright and cheery and he could always doodle or write notes on the community board if he'd nothing better to do. Besides, the nurse was kind enough to let him take a book with him.

He found a seat on one of the couches, far from the entrance and seated himself in the far corner, legs scrunched up against his chest so he only took up one of the cushions. He opened up where he'd left off, fingers carefully turning the worn pages of Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz.

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Mason awoke feeling as refreshed as was possible in this horrible fucking place. His injuries from the bird attack seemed to have healed, and his back and feet were considerably less sore, although still bright blue. Also to the good was the fact that the leather pants and frilly perfect shirt had vanished, but Gone With the Wind had not.

He briefly considered leaving the book in his room, but decided that he liked having it close to him, so he stuffed it once more down the front of his trousers, along with the cheaper pack of fags. He took a good long swig of the Jack, and stashed the bottle carefully back under the mattress before heading off in search of this "Sun Room" place.

As soon as he got there, enjoying the sorely-missed buzz the alcohol gave him, Mason bumped into a weird-looking kid huddling in a corner. Instead of getting angry at the boy, Mason grinned cheekily. The whiskey had put him in a good mood.

"Hey kid, what's your name?" the reaper asked.

Zelgadis was observing the sun room's patients when a scruffy looking man bumped into him. He smiled, disconcertingly looking like that damned trickster priest.

Oh great, a drunk.

"Watch where you're going!"

He turned to walk away.

Mason's good mood evaporated almost instantly when the scrawny tit said something mean and turned his back on Mason.

"Fine," Mason grumbled. "You know you're a right little fucker!" He flipped off the boy's back, and then, just 'cause he hated this fucking place and he wanted the entire world to know, jogged after the retreating teenager and gave him an unfriendly shove.

Zelgadis ignored the man's drunken shouting (most of it seemed to be gibberish, anyway). But as he began to walk away, the bastard pushed him from behind.

Instinctively, Zelgadis reached for his sword, only to realize he didn't have it. Or any magic.

God damn.

"You fucking cocksucker," Mason taunted, doing a little dance around the teenager. "What're you gonna do about it, cocksucker?"

His taunt-dance morphed into a somewhat overenthusiastic boxing move. The reaper raised both fists and started making jabs in the teenager's direction, goading him on to fight.

Zelgadis stared at the ridiculous looking man, poised in a fighting stance but jumping up and down like a mentally challenged kangaroo.

"You're an idiot."

He turned to leave again.

Well, Mason didn't like being called an idiot. So with a defiant yell, he leapt in front of the teenager and aimed a punch straight at the boy's nose.

Zelgadis was surprised to see the drunk leap in front of him, and even more so when the man aimed a fist into his nose. He reeled backwards, clutching his now bleeding nose.

"What was that for, you bastard?"

"For..." Maybe the alcohol was making him hazy, but he couldn't quite remember why he had started hitting this teenager. "For being a right cocksucker, that's why!" the reaper grumbled.

"I asked your name, and you never fucking told me what it is. That," Mason instructed the boy, "is impolite."

Jack was hardly surprised (though ever annoyed) to inexplicably awaken in his room once again. Why was it whenever he and Kou were on their way out, the night would end and he'd find himself back where he started? No matter, he had to assure himself; he hadn't been in the soberest of mindsets last night, what with the sedation. But they had been so close to the exit, damn it! They had been OUTSIDE THE WALLS.

There was no use crying about that now, though. He made his way to the sun room with his nurse, surprised to discover that they weren't immediately going to breakfast as had become the routine. But who was there to socialize with here?

Motion caught his eye and the Fable turned towards it. There appeared to be a fight underway. One of the combatants was that odd guy he had met two days ago at breakfast and the other was a stranger. What were they so up in arms about? Jack said nothing, opting instead to just watch for now, and folded his arms across his chest until he had a chance to say something.

Zelgadis looked at the man, wide-eyed. He could feel the blood from his damaged nose dripping down his face.

The man muttered something nonsenical to Zel, but didn't attempt to hit him again, thank god.

He stared, unable to think of anything to say.

Mason rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers in front of the teenager's face. "What," he said very VERY slowly, "IS. YOUR. NAME, cocksucker?"

Jack snorted to himself. The stranger seemed fond of the word "cocksucker", though the one he knew seemed as out of it as he had been before. He wondered if he shouldn't just walk over himself and break the fight up. Then again, he had no investment in either party, so what was the point of getting involved? He continued to watch, mildly amused.

The drunken man with the accent continued to speak, this time making himself mildly more clear (though Zelgadis wondered what "cocksucker" meant.)

As a preventative from being hit in the face again, Zelgadis replied,

"Zelgadis. My name is Zelgadis Greywords."

It seemed this kid could only understand words if they were spoken very slowly and loudly. Maybe he was from France, or something. Mason shuffled a little closer, and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"MY. NAME. IS. MASON," he informed Zelgadis (which was a fucking retarded name, Mason thought). "IT'S. NICE. TO. MEET. YOU."

He held out his hand. "NOW IT'S POLITE TO SHAKE HANDS."

Well, Jack had seen enough. He wandered over, hopping into the conversation as the reaper finished talking, interjecting, "No need to shout, pal. We all can hear you just fine."

He turned to Zelgadis and smirked. "So, we meet again, eh? Ever get that 'magic' thing worked out?"

Zelgadis stared wide-eyed at the screaming man. Did he think Zelgadis was deaf, stupid, or both? The drunk man was most definitely one of the two.

But then Zelgadis' luck truly began to turn (not that it was ever good)-- the stupid blonde man he'd met the first day approached, ever sarcastic.

"You speak as though you don't believe magic exists."

Which was absurd, of course-- hadn't the scruffy blonde man ever met a sorcerer?

Mason glanced in this new guy's direction. He wasn't sure he liked him.

"I wasn't shouting at you," the reaper explained. "This fucker," he gestured in Zelgadis' direction, "doesn't seem to understand bloody English."

And magic? What was that about? "And you wanna see real magic, you just find me a pea and three walnut shells, and I'll show you some real magic." Mason grinned conspiratorially at the other two. If they had any money, maybe he could trick them out of it.

Jack couldn't say, "Oh, I know magic exists!" That wasn't allowed, not in the company of Mundys. Instead he took the ignorant skeptic road, scoffing loudly at Zelgadis. "Yeah, right."

Jack wasn't too sure he liked Mason either, but when the reaper opened his mouth to speak, Jack caught a whiff of something on his breath. He blinked in surprise. There wasn't any possible way this guy had been drinking....

"Whiskey," He stated, looking Mason right in the eye. "You have whiskey."

Oh, was he EVER going to make this Mundy share...

Zelgadis knew all about the drunk man's walnut and pea trick-- he saw it whenever he went into shady bars (which was more often then he liked.) He definitely thought Zelgadis was stupid-- though how he got this idea, he had no idea.

Meanwhile, the blonde was most definitely stupid-- he seemed to believe that magic was impossible, which was a stupid country bumpkin idea. And he'd finally caught on the brown-haired man was drinking, which was awfully slow.

"It took you a long while to figure out this idiot was drunk off his ass."

Mason glanced sideways at the blonde man. "Yeah, I got whiskey," he admitted, ignoring whatever the teenager was saying. "What's it to you?" Maybe if he couldn't trick them out of their money, he could overcharge them for alcohol.

Jack smirked. "What's it to me? I'll tell you what, buddy. You hook me up with some of that whiskey and maybe I can help you out. You know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. What do you say?"

He pointed at Zelgadis. "Hey, can you wait a minute? I'm talking business here. When I'm done, you can go back to whatever complaint you had."

Zelgadis stared at the blonde man. He had a lot of nerve! But he couldn't bring himself to care much, truly, since the drunken man seemed pretty violent.

He shrugged, deciding to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Mason glanced sideways at Zelgadis. "Piss off," he said, waving at the teenager dismissively.

"As for you... I might indeed have some whiskey, but you don't look like you've got much to give me in return." Mason smirked back. He might not have Roxy's intimidation techniques, but he sure as hell could smirk and act shady with the best of them.

Jack folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. "What's your price? I may have a thing or two I can offer."

Rather than show all his cards at once, the Fable instead opted to see what the reaper would ASK for. Speaking of cards, though, another thought crossed his mind. "...or, perhaps, you'd like to make a wager?"

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