http://hes-deadjim.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
hes-deadjim.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2010-05-15 02:15 pm
hes-deadjim.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2010-05-15 02:15 pm
Entry tags:
- depth charge,
- hayes,
- kadaj,
- kibitoshin,
- matt,
- mccoy,
- prussia,
- reeve,
- the scarecrow,
- two-face,
- venom
Night 49: M41-50 Hallway
McCoy hadn't managed to get any sleep this time, instead spent the rest of the dinner nearly pacing with a nervous energy that seemed to to well up out of nowhere. He could feel it this time, his mind starting to drift on its own, back to those half-remembered thoughts earlier in the day, the ones that had had involved Chekov, Sulu. He couldn't remember the full details, he might as well have attempted to go catching smoke for all the good trying did, but it had something to do with their promotions. Sometimes Jim drifted in there, carrying some scars he didn't remember him having, and for some reason, the thought of him prompted a sense of wariness that shouldn't have been there.
He resisted actually pacing. He'd settled for lying on the bed and trying to get some rest. It was the sensible thing to do, because who knew how many hours they were actually getting of rest here? Humans needed a certain amount. He wasn't any different. And getting a few hour's shut-eye might be just the thing for the way he'd drifted off today and just now.
McCoy found himself instead staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest. There was that strange sensation that his limbs weren't quite long enough, his body temperature too low even though McCoy knew it was perfectly fine for a human. The room felt overly small, growing warmer by the minute...
The doctor was on his feet the moment the intercom sounded, relief flooding through him. He couldn't say he liked the sound of changes when it came to the Head Doctor. But to get out of this room and get his mind on work, instead of allowing it free reign to wander? An idle mind was a devil's workshop, something he'd learned in his youth.
He gathered his things quickly and stepped out into the hallway.
[to here]
He resisted actually pacing. He'd settled for lying on the bed and trying to get some rest. It was the sensible thing to do, because who knew how many hours they were actually getting of rest here? Humans needed a certain amount. He wasn't any different. And getting a few hour's shut-eye might be just the thing for the way he'd drifted off today and just now.
McCoy found himself instead staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest. There was that strange sensation that his limbs weren't quite long enough, his body temperature too low even though McCoy knew it was perfectly fine for a human. The room felt overly small, growing warmer by the minute...
The doctor was on his feet the moment the intercom sounded, relief flooding through him. He couldn't say he liked the sound of changes when it came to the Head Doctor. But to get out of this room and get his mind on work, instead of allowing it free reign to wander? An idle mind was a devil's workshop, something he'd learned in his youth.
He gathered his things quickly and stepped out into the hallway.
[to here]
no subject
He didn't have any time to ponder about the mental age of his roommate. He needed to deliver the blood to Edward and get the information he required or all of his effort was in vain. It was not going to be.
As he walked through the darkness, the doctor's words wandered through his mind, no longer ignored in favor of getting ready for the night. Visitors...?
The thought stung as much as it did amuse. A visitor? Who would visit him?
[To here]