Day 37: Men's Showers

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

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]

Comments

[tender-cruelty.livejournal.com]

Allelujah frowned when someone approached him, opening his right eye a crack and peering through his hair at whoever it was who had come up to him. Weren't there enough free shower heads that someone could leave him alone? It was a little frustrating. He scrutinised the boy carefully, absently noting the glove, but deciding that he wasn't much of a threat there and then. The nurses were paying too much attention to allow a fight to break out anyway.

He moved away from the shower head after a few moments, reaching for the shampoo and starting to wash his hair, keeping his eyes closed as he did so when he brushed his hair out of his face.

[wild-right-hand.livejournal.com]

Tokito kept covertly shooting glances at the guy next to him, just to make sure he hadn't moved any closer or started staring or anything weird. But he never looked for more than a heartbeat at a time, furtive little glances born out of nervousness more than anything.

Poking at the dispensers with his left hand--Tokito was much too stressed out to trust his right hand's strength--he eventually settled on washing his hair first. It felt weird to lather the shampoo in his hair with his hand still gloved, but anything was better than showing his hand to everyone in the room.