damned_institute | Night 48: M51-M60 Hallway

[M57]

Having no roommate pretty much sucked. Even if the first guy who'd been in here with him had just slept the whole time, at least there'd been someone else around. It was one small thing to focus on, even if only as a perplexity. Tieria had actually given him someone to talk to after that, but this evening the man had just never shown up. Did that mean he was gone? Or maybe the nurses switched things around sometime. If not, though, that'd make the second roommate of his who'd just up and disappeared.

Was he bad luck or something?

It looked like he had the room to himself for the moment, but that wasn't something Zack liked. He'd prefer to have someone to chat with over dinner, but instead he'd been forced to eat in silence and then scribble in his journal to pass the time. He'd made sure to get a hold of his flashlight before the lights went out, but since that was really the only thing he needed at this point, it wasn't like he'd had to do much preparation.

The announcements from the Head Doc spiced things up a little, but it was hard to care too much when Zack had barely any idea of what the man was going on about. Jill, a rebel... what was all that? Maybe he could ask Aidou, since the kid seemed to be well-informed. If they got the chance, anyway. He didn't know how much effort this task of theirs was going to take, but he'd stay focused on the matter at hand if that was what it came to. He was nothing if not a good soldier, as much as it hurt him to admit these days.

Once Landel was done talking, all Zack could do was wait. He stood in the center of the room and started in on some squats, figuring that he could limber up while he waited for Aidou to arrive. He hoped it wouldn't take too long.

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Rude had the eloquence of a demon wall so she didn't take his curt command personally. If anything, the Turk's initiative to say more than one word was a good sign. Being introspective and being ignored were two totally different things, and she never really appreciated the latter.

She took a seat on the edge of the bed in front of Rude's desk and quietly watched him fuck around. Hopefully Rude knew what he was doing. Well, he was a Turk, those smarmy bastards could probably build one in their sleep. But he was using parts from the institute. Who knew how stable that would be.

Maybe I should move back a bit.

Scooting a few inches down the bed, the young woman stayed quiet and waited. Waiting for what, she wasn't sure. Tifa kind of wanted her night to be a little bit more productive than watching a Turk build something. So she finally spoke up.

"Hey, do you--" But it was short-lived. "Shiva's tits, what are you doing?" Hopping off the mattress, the brunette rounded the desk with her flashlight so she could see what the suppressed commotion was all about. Holding the light above her with one hand, she pulled his arm out for inspection like a good mother. "You're retarded," was her ultimate conclusion. "Shouldn't you have gloves on or something? If you could find the parts for a bomb in this place, there should be some gloves lying around too..." Honestly, men; they were like little children.

Oh god, she was t- Rude's hand shook a little as he fought with himself, not sure if he should pull away or just stay there. He managed to keep it there and hold it still, staring at it. "Uh, no gloves," he shrugged.

He pulled his arms away and awkwardly fixed the tops on a few things and began to tidy, his injured fingers sticking out, stiff. Once the table was clear, he grabbed a bandage out of his shirt bag and began to awkwardly wrap his fingers and hand.

"Just...just a moment," he assured her. Then he'd be all hers.

Tifa wasn't going to just stand there and watch Rude do a shitty job or treating an injury. There were more hygienic procedures than just putting a band-aid on a potential infection. She assumed Turks would have better training on how to treat wounds. In fact, she was sure they would have to, which led her to wonder why he just skipped the more crucial steps.

"No, just stop, please..." Tifa took back his hand with a disappointed tsk and none so gently unwound the bandage around his fingers. "Where is your alcohol? We need to disinfect this..." It was a shame to waste good liquor, but losing a limb was a bit higher on the priority list unfortunately.

Some things were just more important that immediate medical attention and, generally, enemies (even newly old ones) didn't often give a damn about the otherside, so Rude was a little surprised when Tifa stopped him.

He bit the inside of his mouth so stop any signs of pain showing through.

He shook his head when she mentioned alcohol, however, and reached into the sack to pull out a little tub of surgical spirit. And then he nodded to the bed. "Keep the real stuff under the mattress," he told her. You know. To keep her interests.

Thin eyebrows rose; though in this darkness her surprise was probably not very apparent. Still, Tifa's brown eyes did their best to convey "Why didn't you just whip that out in the beginning?" before her attention moved away from Rude and toward his bed. "Alright, well, you can can manage easily enough..." As if she was going to clean and dress it. He was a big boy.

The brunette struggled to turn properly between the desk and the end of the bed, almost tripping on an iron frame post in the dark. She easily caught herself with a strong hand on the hard mattress and pretended as if she had simply intended to bend over to, you know, find the stashed bottle of liquor. She hadn't felt like a rookie in a long time and it was a hard reality to face.

Lifting up the mattress, her other hand blindly searched for the cold feel of glass, and found it quickly enough. "Yes..." But her optimism was dampened when she jiggled the bottle, finding that there was not all that much left. It was set on the table away from the mess Rude called a bomb.

Rude stared at her. Dammit. He kinda liked the idea of her nursing him. He shouldn't have mentioned the alcohol, but at least he got to see the fuzzy, dark image of her ass as she bent over. He'd even flipped his shades up for the honour. He cleaned and dressed the wound expertly. He'd been there plenty of times.

But then that left them either side of the desk, bottle between, in silence.

"This...a social visit?"

Tifa averted her eyes back down at the bottle where he fingers slid up and down the neck of the bottle. She tried to feel guilty for getting the man's hopes up, but this was do or die. She needed information and the brunette would use who ever needed to be used to get her way. They were both professionals; they should be used to give and take.

"Not really..." Eventually the young woman picked up the bottle and took a swig, the skin around her brown eyes crinkling as the burn ran down her throat. Setting back down in front of Rude, Tifa continued. "I wanted Cloud's room number, if you know it..." Though he probably wasn't there anymore.

Night 48: M51-M60 Hallway

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