Manfred von Karma (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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damned_institute2010-03-07 11:32 am
lawful_perfect) wrote in damned_institute2010-03-07 11:32 am
Entry tags:
Day 48: Sun Room [Second Shift]
Hmph. While this Rude was the proverbial "man of few words," von Karma found more potential use from him than a number of the other patients he had met put together. He would still ask Franziska about the man... as well as the other people he had learned that she had been spending time around. Many of them were utter fools, especially that Kibitoshin.
He ignored the nurse as she insisted that he stay indoors, lest he "catch his death of pneumonia." Already having planned to meet his daughter in the Sun Room, the prosecutor had no intention of spending the cold, gloomy morning in the Courtyard anyway.
It appeared that he was the first to arrive in the spacious room. Gray light from the overcast sky filtered in through the glass windows high above, making it somewhat more difficult for von Karma to peruse the notes on the bulletin board as he awaited Franziska's arrival.
The lines in his forehead furrowed as he saw Kibitoshin's note to her, asking her whether she was "feeling better." What made that blasted oaf think that it was any of his business how she was doing or to worry about her?! She had been raised to take care of herself, damn it! ...Did Franziska say or do something that would lead the clumsy idiot to think otherwise? This, among other things, von Karma would ask her.
After removing his daughter's response to his original note from the board -- and noting that Ms. Taura had yet to reply to his other note -- he sat down at a table in a remote corner of the room, claiming this space that would afford him and his daughter the most privacy.
Mew?
What was that noise? And what was that tugging sensation at the leg of his pants? He peered down in the direction from which the irritating sound had come and was greeted by a tiny orange kitten that had the mistaken notion that his leg was a climbing post. Infernal creature! One glance at his face, and the furry little nuisance was suddenly at the other end of the room, having cleared it within several skittish bounds. Good riddance!
[Waiting for his Dear Daughter]
He ignored the nurse as she insisted that he stay indoors, lest he "catch his death of pneumonia." Already having planned to meet his daughter in the Sun Room, the prosecutor had no intention of spending the cold, gloomy morning in the Courtyard anyway.
It appeared that he was the first to arrive in the spacious room. Gray light from the overcast sky filtered in through the glass windows high above, making it somewhat more difficult for von Karma to peruse the notes on the bulletin board as he awaited Franziska's arrival.
The lines in his forehead furrowed as he saw Kibitoshin's note to her, asking her whether she was "feeling better." What made that blasted oaf think that it was any of his business how she was doing or to worry about her?! She had been raised to take care of herself, damn it! ...Did Franziska say or do something that would lead the clumsy idiot to think otherwise? This, among other things, von Karma would ask her.
After removing his daughter's response to his original note from the board -- and noting that Ms. Taura had yet to reply to his other note -- he sat down at a table in a remote corner of the room, claiming this space that would afford him and his daughter the most privacy.
Mew?
What was that noise? And what was that tugging sensation at the leg of his pants? He peered down in the direction from which the irritating sound had come and was greeted by a tiny orange kitten that had the mistaken notion that his leg was a climbing post. Infernal creature! One glance at his face, and the furry little nuisance was suddenly at the other end of the room, having cleared it within several skittish bounds. Good riddance!
[Waiting for his Dear Daughter]
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"Thanks for the advice, though," he finished with a smile. Try as he might, though, he couldn't pull his accent out of his voice. He didn't think this guy was a particularly bad guy--but the last thing Kurt wanted was someone connecting 'Kurt Wagner' with 'Nightcrawler'. Especially in a place where if someone found out his room number and wasn't a fan of mutants, he'd be a sitting duck. Well, no doubt Terry would get involved, but that was the last thing Kurt wanted: someone fighting his battles for him.
"Do you deal with this sort of stuff often?" Kurt asked, indicating his eye. He'd gotten beat up plenty of times, but back in Germany he'd usually just stayed in his house until he'd healed. And usually after those incidents, Kurt wasn't too keen on interacting with the general public anyway. He'd never really been punched in the eye twice, so he didn't really know much about injuries besides that they hurt. "I never really learned to patch myself up before. Well, besides band-aids and stuff." And his experience with band-aids told him that sticking them on his fur was a hopeless venture. And if they did manage to stick? Heaven help him, they hurt terribly. "My mother always used to say that smaller injuries just needed time. So I'd just kind of wait them out... would something get rid of them faster?"
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What Indy thought but didn't think it was necessary to add was that the bruises would probably go away fast enough on their own. In his experience, a black eye usually lasted a week or two, but with the way injuries healed around here.... That was another thing to look into someday: what medical technology Landel's was using. Not to mention whether it was all somehow connected to that resurrection project Landel or the girl or both of them had been working on.
But Indy had more immediate things to wonder about at the moment. The more he heard the kid talk, the more convinced he was that they'd already spoken at least once. It wasn't just the accent; the voice itself seemed familiar, although it was unusual that he couldn't place the face.
What the hell, Indy thought, might as well ask. He put on his best apologetic smile and said, "Sorry, but have we met before? I'm Dr. Indiana Jones."
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"Euh... Maybe?"
...that was honestly the best he could do without sounding completely fake.
"I mean, I've been here a while. It's... possible you've seen me around or heard me talk or something. Or maybe you know someone I do?" What type of person would Indiana talk to, Kurt wondered? "Maybe euh... Steve, or Mr. Stark, or Logan, or Peter?"
Kurt could have kicked himself in that moment. He hadn't meant to mention Peter, but he'd put himself in a 'superhero' mode of thought. Plus Peter was one of his best friends here--it was hard to put him out of mind for very long.
"But it's nice to meet you, all the same!" Kurt said, trying to sound as friendly as possible, even though he felt like his stomach was going to flip inside out.
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--Aha!
"Weren't you the one with him that night in Doyleton last week?" As soon as he said it, he felt even more confident about it: yeah, there had been a fourth person at the periphery of his memory, yelling in a German accent. But that wasn't all. Improbable as it was, there was one strange detail Indy knew he hadn't imagined, something that had slipped his mind in the last week and was resurfacing now. "You were--painted blue at the time, if I recall."
He wasn't planning on asking in so many words, but Indy was immensely curious about why. Did the kid have a thing for Celtic war paint or something?
no subject
He had two options now: admit that he was Peter's friend and he had been the one fighting with him in Doyleton but wasn't painted blue, or run like heck. Which totally wouldn't be suspicious at all, and wouldn't prompt Mr. Jones to ask Peter why Kurt Wagner had run away in a panic. Nope.
"Y-yeah, I was," Kurt said, dropping his voice down to a low mutter. He twisted his fingers around nervously, worrying his previously stitched lip. "But I... wasn't painted. That's how I look. All the time. Except uh... now."
Now he just sounded crazy. "I have a different gene that most people don't. It makes me look much different from people without this gene--blue fur, yellow eyes, tail, three fingers..." Kurt found it much easier to tell the truth, though he was watching Mr. Jones' face for any cues that he should get up and run. "I'm a mutant."
Kurt swallowed hard, leaving his lip alone for the moment. "Please... please don't tell anyone."
no subject
This one still threw Indy for a loop.
"What?" he said intelligently, his first thought being that he must have misheard. But the kid looked serious. Probably delusional, Indy decided a beat later, feeling reassured by this. Richter had claimed to have glowing eyes or something equally ridiculous at night too.
After a quick glance around, he switched to German and added, "Err--I won't tell anyone," since the kid was obviously worried about his secret getting out (Indy couldn't blame him; who'd want to advertise the fact that he thought he sprouted fur and a tail at night?). Once he'd done that, though-- "A tail?" Indy couldn't help repeating incredulously. At least most of the patients made claims that couldn't be so easily disproved.
no subject
"Yeah..." Kurt replied, speaking in German as well. "It's not like a dog's tail either--I can move it any way I like." He bit his lip again. "I know it sounds kind of insane, but it's the truth. You can ask Peter, if you want. About... Nightcrawler." He figured that if Mr. Jones started asking questions about Kurt, Peter might cover for him on the pretense that Kurt had just had the tar kicked out of him for being blue and fuzzy. Though if he gave Peter Kurt's X-men name, he'd know that the only way Mr. Jones could have gotten it was through Kurt... right?
"But thanks, for keeping it a secret. I don't really want people to know because... Well..." Kurt smiled sheepishly. "I don't want to walk around looking like I lost a fight all the time. And if everybody knew what I looked like and who I was during the day, they could find me at night, y'know?"
Maybe he was being overly paranoid, but the last time he was lax about things he'd ended up with a stitch in his lip and a black eye. He had to be careful from now on.
"Oh, my name's Kurt, by the way," he flashed a friendly smile. "Kurt Wagner."