damned_institute | Day 37: Men's Showers

Entry tags:

Day 37: Men's Showers

I wouldn't really call this a locker room. More like a bathroom with lockers. The place was uncomfortably crowded, with almost every adult male patient being hustled into the showers at once, but Phoenix wasn't as annoyed by the claustrophobic, milling throng of bodies as he might have otherwise been. Every extra person was one more person who might end up standing between himself and Edgeworth.

He knew that the prosecutor would have a fit if he found out about this. He'd known since he'd tacked that first response up on the bulletin board. And in a way, he couldn't blame him. Phoenix knew that he jumped into things all-or-nothing more often than most people. At the same time, he had some kind of reality testing. He wasn't going to learn the basics of how to defend himself and suddenly decide that he was Rambo.

He found an unoccupied locker in the southwest corner and glanced around, trying to gauge how long he could possibly stall in a locker room, looking as if he was expecting something, before people started looking at him strangely. It would have been easier if he'd known something of the description of the man he was supposed to be meeting. As it was, all he had was handwriting and a military rank, neither of which guaranteed any particular appearance.

It's not as if there was a better way to plan this, though. "Yeah, meet me by the lockers. I'll be wearing gray and a smiley face, just like about a hundred other guys."

[for Hughes]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kristoph paused in the menial after-shower item retrieval to gawk at the other man, not quite expecting the remark. Affable words from his nemesis, particularly with a certain exchange hovering over their heads like a waiting time bomb, were the last things he had imagined arising out of this conversation. Yet, even as the look faded, the man smiled with the sincerity of a child. He had no reason to doubt Wright; he had known him long enough to understand how honest his positive regard had the tendency to be. And if that was how fate played out, he would gladly take this over the previous state of contained hostility. Made life wonderfully simpler.

“Any time.” Kristoph reached for his towel. “There is more regarding your life for the next seven years, but I fear my time is up. Plus, a shower is hardly an appropriate setting to reminiscence, no?” Light laughter escaped his lips. “Let me know when you are ready for the rest; I will gladly provide it.” To an extent, of course.

Phoenix's reaction was tempered by that stare, a brief interruption in the steady stream of pleasant regard Kristoph had been exuding for the past several minutes. It wasn't enough to turn him immediately to the side of 'hidden evil schemes,' but it was definitely a little weird. He didn't think he'd said anything that strange.

And there it was again, friendliness and ease. Laughter, even. Phoenix noted, a little distantly, that Kristoph had a nice laugh. But he had a nice voice, too, so that wasn't so surprising. "Of course," he answered, giving small, friendly smile in return. All the same, he glanced to the side, struck by the distinct sensation of being watched.

He'd been wrong. He was not being watched. He was being glared at, and by none other than a very wet, infinitely unamused-looking prosecutor. Phoenix didn't exactly feel guilty in response, but there was more than a small amount of lead-stomached, cotton-headed, this-is-going-on-my-permanent-record-isn't-it dread.

Oh. Shit.

Oh, dear. It seemed as though they had attracted attention of some sort. Judging from Phoenix’s reaction (Kristoph was not about to stray too far in visual range.), likely unwarranted. Now who could possibly stare daggers in this particular direction?

Ah, well, no matter. Lunch was mere minutes away, and a meal with Crane sounded far more productive than figuring out who was looking at whom in the showers. “Wonderful.” Kristoph’s smile rose to the level of radiance. “Try not to get yourself killed.” Nothing doubly meant there, no.

He left his place in the stall, eyes strictly forward.

"Yeah, thanks," Phoenix replied lowly to Kristoph's back, finishing rinsing himself off and turning off the water. There was a slim possibility that it was completely by chance that the sudden spike in cheerfulness had come at the same time as the glare that Phoenix was pretty sure was going to start burning a hole through his head any second now. Phoenix tried to think of other reasons that didn't involve malicious schemes or creepy exdom. He wasn't having a lot of success.

Once he was sure that Kristoph was out of the room he grabbed up his towel, wrapping it around his waist and looking back down the row of stalls. He'd intended to go right over there, but Edgeworth appeared to have had the same idea, and was already coming this way. Now that the immediate crisis of there is a possibility that he is going to come over here and start a scene over absolutely nothing was past, Phoenix was flipping rapidly back and forth between concern and resentment, both obscured by a thin veneer of embarrassment. He knew that he'd promised to be careful, he knew that Edgeworth didn't let go of things even when there wasn't some kind of hypersensitive voice in his head-

I don't care what the reasons are, this is insane. He cannot actually expect me to apologize for speaking to someone he doesn't like without his permission.

Indeed, Edgeworth did have the same idea, and after angrily turning off the water and wrapping a towel around his own waist, he was storming over towards Phoenix. There was a moment's urge to yell - again - but instead, the reply came out as sharp, unrelenting sarcasm. There was no hiding the barely-suppressed anger.

"So. Fraternizing with the enemy, are we? You're laughing it up with the person who I'm still convinced is responsible for what supposedly happens. Is that your idea of being careful? Well. I'm glad to see that you're exhibiting such high regard for your own safety."

It would have been easy to slip a few added barbs into the sentence - the ones that got into the pangs of jealousy he'd been feeling - but he held out. It wouldn't do to come off as the more suspicious one of the two - or worse, overly possessive.

"'Laughing it up'?" Phoenix gaped and made no attempt to hide it. "I was polite. I'm not trying to become the best friend of everyone I don't plunk down at an interrogating table and put a spotlight on."

"Look, we don't know anything. All we have is one story from one person who we have no way of even proving the identity of. I'd like to know more about this, since maybe being disbarred is something I also have an interest in avoiding, but to get information I need to do this crazy thing called 'talk to people.' I'm not making friends, I'm not saying I unquestionably believe everything he says, I'm not giving him my social security number. I'm just talking." Even offended, there was a clear curiosity beneath his indignance, a 'what are you thinking'? "Do you really think I'm safer sitting by and not doing anything, not knowing anything?"

"I get that you don't want to sit idly by and let everyone else do the investigating for you. I do. But I know you tend to get in over your head. You think the world is full of people who are really good and just misunderstood. You've seen murderers, you've seen sociopaths, and yet you still believe that we're really all good people and no one could ever be out to get you. It's naive and it's stupid."

Edgeworth trailed off, crossing his arm over his chest and looking down and away. That last sentence had gone too far, and he knew it. The question now was how to apologize and yet not back down.

"Look, my definition of 'being careful' doesn't include having a laugh with the enemy in the shower. Call me paranoid, call me a stick-in-the-mud, call me whatever you want, but it's true. I'm just trying to look out for you, because you do tend to get in over your head." The last sentence was accompanied by a half-smile that - hopefully - communicated more than the words did.

The apology was a fortunate thing, because otherwise there would have been shouting. And accusations. And probably finger-pointing. Odds were that the staff would look unkindly upon at least two of those.

As it was, though, there was an apology. And that look. Phoenix could kick a man when he was down, and had on occasion done so with great relish. But that was only people he knew really deserved it. Edgeworth, though, had reasons he could understand, even if he didn't agree with them. He didn't deserve it -- even though right now, he came pretty close. Phoenix took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. It was enough to gather himself, and dull to a manageable level the urge to sarcastically call Miles 'mom'.

"I don't think that everyone's innocent," he replied at length, and though he spoke with conviction there as a shortness to his tone that betrayed a truth hard-won. "I know there are people who could be out to get me. But even if it means getting in over my head sometimes, I can't declare anyone an enemy that easily." If I could, you might not even be standing here right now.

He turned for the door, pressing the water out of his hair as he slicked it back. "At the same time, though, I know you have your reasons. So if it's really that important, I'll try to keep things professional." He smirked a little, finally, a look of grudging warmth that encompassed both 'I can't believe you' and 'you're lucky I like you enough to agree to this.' "For you."

Edited 2008-12-04 03:59 (UTC)

"I know you can't declare someone an enemy so easily. It's a strength of yours, even as it's a point of contention right now. But, Wright, I honestly think you're taking this less seriously than you should be. People who you think are acting in your best interests can turn around and stab you in the back at the blink of an eye. I don't think Kristoph Gavin is really going to be acting in your best interest."

Edgeworth sighed, turning to the door himself after taking a moment to smooth his hair into its usual style. He made a mental note to ask for a bit of that one hair product he usually used, because those little bits at the sides of his head liked to stick out occasionally, but they didn't seem to be doing so today, which was a relief.

"Thank you. I know it's a lot to ask, and I probably seem...well. I'm sure you have words for how I seem right now, that you'd rather I not hear. But I'm worried. It might be nothing, but I can't shake the bad feeling I have about him."

If this had been any other situation, Miles might have made the move forward to take Phoenix's hand. That would be a breach of etiquette, however, and more than that, it would draw the attention of the staff. Still, he couldn't help shooting Phoenix a look after that, one that said, 'I'd kiss you right now if I could.'

Why is there a bad feeling in the first place, though? Is it intuition? Your dad? Something you're not telling me? Or do you just hate the story he's giving us that much?

"I know," he answered simply, giving a subdued half-smile that made the nature of his response - whether it was directed to what was being spoken or what was left silent - entirely ambiguous. He was nearly at his locker when he remembered that there was something else he'd been meaning to talk with Edgeworth about, something that didn't involve mystery men from the past or future. "Oh, by the way, what room are you in?"

. . . okay, could have timed that better than on the heels of the Deeply Significant Look.

Edgeworth simply nodded, trying and failing to resist the brief urge to smirk. "I'm in M59. I assume you'll be by later? I need to make arrangements to pick up something tonight, but I'm free after that."

He quickly dressed again, careful to keep his eyes averted. "I'll see you tonight, then?"

"I . . . actually have plans for tonight." Hell, there was no use keeping this a secret. If anything, what he was planning on doing might be a relief to Edgeworth after their last conversation. Show a healthy level of mistrust in humanity or something like that.

"I can't afford to not know the first thing about fighting, not the way things work here." Not in a world where there weren't police or even laws. Definitely not in one with this many wild variables. Not when he knew that he already had people he'd want to protect, and if anything he'd just acquire more. Phoenix finished dressing and took his towel to his hair, trying to get it at least a little drier. "Mr. Hughes - I don't know if you know him - he's going to be teaching me some basics." He raked back his hair into a semblance of order, looking back at Miles. "If you need me around, though, I'm sure I can reschedule."

Edited 2008-12-04 06:12 (UTC)

"I believe we've met, though I also know him by reputation. He's been here a long time and knows a lot. You could do much, much worse than working with him." Edgeworth nodded as he spoke.

"In that case, I'll likely make arrangements to work with the History Club tonight. I've been working with them off-and-on for some time, and actually, the person I'm going to meet works with them as a weapon-maker. I'll be picking up something from them for myself." He looked expectantly at Phoenix, waiting for the surprise to set in.

"I know several people who are skilled with the use of swords. I'll be taking lessons from one of them at some point. I admit, I find the idea that I'd need to learn how to use one somewhat distasteful, but as you just stated, in this place, one needs to be able to defend themselves. I don't want another incident like the one the night before last, even if it did lead to..." He trailed off.

Phoenix blinked, caught off-guard but not enough so to honestly stare. A sword? He supposed it made a certain amount of sense. A sword was dependable; even if the edge dulled it had some value as a stabbing or bludgeoning weapon, depending on the type. With that shoulder, it would probably be closer to the former - something lighter, something that could conceivably be used one-handed.

The mental image was a little more appealing than it probably had any right to be, which only deepened the resulting flush when the last sentence trailed off into awkward silence. He looked back at the lockers quickly, pulling on his shirt. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he replied, reluctantly half-grinning in a way he was sure was probably perfectly adolescent. "Better ways to go about that, probably."

It could've been worse, I guess. I mean, I think I've ended up in most of my relationships because of actual murder. Assault and battery is a step in the right direction.

A hand intruded into his field of vision and returned from the open locker with an oddly-shaped white mass that Phoenix took a few seconds to identify as a folded-up sling. He quirked a concerned eyebrow, following the arm back up to Miles' face. "Do you want a hand with that?"

"I won't be taking those lessons tonight, for obvious reasons, but with at least one person out for my blood, as distasteful as I find the idea, I'm safer having something with which to defend myself," he said.

"And about that, I have to agree," Miles began, trying - and failing - to keep from blushing just a little in response. "But I suppose, in the situation we're in..."

Not helping, Miles. Even if it is somehow satisfying to think of spiting von Karma by, well, sleeping with his sworn enemy immediately after. That blush grew a few shades deeper at that thought, and he turned and looked away for just a second, long enough to let it fade. Why, exactly, am I acting like a teenager? Get a hold of yourself, man.

That last question of Wright's didn't help, either. Yes, it was true that he could use a hand getting the sling into place. On the other hand, though, if they were that close, he didn't know if he could easily resist that very strong temptation to lean in and...

He glanced around quickly - it seemed that most of the nurses were distracted for the moment, and there weren't too many people there. At least if one of them did slip and lean in a little too close, it would go largely unnoticed.

"I - er - yes, I would appreciate that."

Edited 2008-12-07 16:46 (UTC)

Laughing under his breath, Phoenix moved a few steps closer, taking the strap of the sling and trying to figure out exactly how it was supposed to be arranged. "You're right - hold still," he answered quietly, finally figuring out the length of nylon webbing and lifting it over Miles' head. He moved behind his shoulder, trying to straighten the whole affair and finding that the strap had gotten a little twisted in the slider that allowed for length adjustment. "Dinner and a movie isn't exactly an option these days."

Standing this close would have been nice - comfortable, even - except for the knowledge that there were nurses right there. Phoenix wasn't used to having to hide what was important to him - on the contrary, he was used to declaring it a little bit louder than everyone else. But that wasn't a safe thing to do in the Institute. He didn't want to see his affections weaponized and turned back against him. Not again.

At the same time, they weren't really being closely watched, and the crowd was starting to thin. And occupied as he'd been in figuring out the slider, it wouldn't really look out of place is he leaned closer, just for a second-

The kiss was quick, silent and unannounced and in that little bare corner between hair and ear. It was the kind of kiss that, given on the cheek, would have been platonic in a large number of countries. But it was, and that was what mattered.

Phoenix grinned, standing back and letting go of the sling. "There you go. Can you get the rest?"

"No, it's really not an option. We do what we can, though," he said, obligingly holding still while Phoenix made the adjustments to the sling's strap. "Shame it had to involve what it did, but hopefully it won't always be that way." It wasn't a flowery speech - Miles didn't think he was capable of the kind of big, flowery speeches that some other people were. Phoenix would understand that, though.

Then, that quick kiss happened, and he needed to bite his lip to keep from making a quiet, appreciative noise. He looked up and smiled. It hadn't been the kind of thing that would attract attention, but it had been just enough to dispel a lot of the quiet worry that had been building.

"I think I can manage," Miles grinned, making one last small adjustment before stepping into his slippers. He stepped up to where Phoenix was standing, and quietly said, "Be careful, all right? If I'm keeping track of the days correctly, people will be taken for experiments tonight. If that happens... well, if it happens, and if we're right about the way the voice works as a warning for people I'm close to, I'll find out. And I'll be there, with reinforcements." With that, he glanced around again, and noting that they still weren't being watched closely, thought damn proper etiquette and leaned in for a quick return kiss to his lips before stepping back again, turning towards the door.

Some kind of thank-you (in retrospect, Phoenix had no idea what he'd even been saying, but he assumed it was a thank-you) was cut off by an entirely unexpected, broad-daylight kiss. And for all that Phoenix would have thought he'd at least manage some sort of witty response to that sort of thing, he mostly watched Edgeworth walk away while his brain floated off on a fluffy, humiliating cloud of ♥ ♥ dur hur hur hur ♥ ♥.

Get a grip, Phoenix. Your nurse is going to ask what happened to you if you go walking out that door with a big, stupid smile all over your face. He shook his head, toeing on his slippers before heading for the door as well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Day 37: Men's Showers

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject