Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxicspiderman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
Entry tags:
- adelheid,
- aidou,
- blitzwing,
- blue beetle,
- claude,
- daniel jackson,
- depth charge,
- edgeworth,
- edward elric,
- frey,
- guy,
- homura,
- junpei,
- keman,
- kenren,
- kio,
- leon magnus,
- lockdown,
- nataku,
- nigredo,
- okita,
- ren,
- ronixis,
- s.t.,
- sam winchester,
- sanzo,
- scar (tlk),
- schuldig,
- scourge,
- snake,
- sora,
- teisel,
- the doctor,
- the flash,
- the scarecrow,
- wesker,
- willy wonka,
- xigbar,
- yohji,
- zex
Day 40: Greenhouse [Fourth Shift]
Most days, fish and chips (and a cold beer or three) was pretty goddamned high on S.T.'s list of perfect expense-account lunches. Today, the idea of picking at greasy hunks of unidentified bottom-feeder odds-and-ends (politely known as scrod, to the delight of teenagers all across the Northeast) didn't appeal.
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
no subject
He felt his muscles relax, felt his breathing slow and his heartbeat return to something more regular. He still felt a little woozy, but that was probably the drug. He could feel Kakashi's hand on his back but was unsure what to make of it. Thinking seemed like too much effort right now.
"Well, that worked," he slurred slightly.
no subject
[and I'm out unless you guys need it again. Ping me if you do.]
no subject
"Naruto. You didn't do that just to get sedated..." It wasn't unusual for Naruto to show foresight when he wanted to. Not on Shikamaru's level, but Naruto could at least think a few steps ahead. That the boy might have done something like this on purpose, however, was a serious concern. Ninja had to deal with death all the time, and Kakashi knew how hard it could be. But turning to sedatives definitely wasn't the answer, especially not for Naruto.
Not when the ninja had always had such a strong spirit.
no subject
"Nah," he said. "But s'nice," he shrugged, wondering if Kakashi would get angry. Probably. But he couldn't deny it -- it was nice, to get a little break from the stress and tension he'd been feeling since first stepping here.