damned_institute | Day 51: Men's Showers [Second Shift]

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Day 51: Men's Showers [Second Shift]

Bah. So much for yet another suggestion of von Karma's. Such priorities this Institute had. They would implement a foolish suggestion to introduce origami lessons and to offer sewing supplies to select patients, yet refused to allow them to cleanse themselves more often than twice a week -- and, of course, without any additional privacy? How many more of his reasonable suggestions would the Head Lunatic make a point of ignoring?

von Karma scoffed, shaking his head as he entered the shower facility. Fortunately, it appeared that he was the first one in here. As soon as the announcement over the intercom had blared out signaling the shift change, von Karma had been quick to excuse himself from his conversation with Naraku to promptly head for the showers. It had been bad enough last time that there were already three men in the showers by the time he arrived. This time, he would make certain that he would be the first one there.

Without wasting a single second, he disrobed, meticulously washed off the grime from the past several days, dried himself, then got dressed. All within a perfect three minutes, zero seconds, before anyone else had a chance to enter. He would have preferred a much longer time to devote to hygiene, but he didn't want to risk any needless immodesty in front of anyone.

Now finished, he exited the restroom and entered the Sun Room.

[To here]

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Showers. Communal showers. Goodness, the last time Gant had been forced to shower in front of others had been back when he'd been on the swimming team in high school. That was over forty years ago, and the chief wasn't sure how he felt about stripping down in from of all the other men.

... Well, it couldn't be that much different than wearing only your swimming trunks when at a public beach. In fact, it would be exactly the same. Only without the swimming trunks. And the balmy atmosphere. Problem was everyone would see his tan lines. He'd just have to think of it as a necessary evil. After all, his hair was starting to look a bit weighted down from the past two nights' perspiration.

He stripped down and moseyed over to a free shower head. He whistled a peppy little tune as he washed, paying close attention to his hair. He wondered briefly if they would provide him with any kind of haircare products to help get his bangs back in order, but something told him not to hold his breath.

Speaking with that Hammer idiot had more or less been a waste of time, and now he was being forced into the showers. It was bad enough when he already had bandages covering half of his face, but now he also had them wrapped around his side thanks to Little Miss Frilly from last night. Harvey tried to reason with a nurse about it, but in the end all she did was offer to "help" him get clean, which was the last thing he needed.

In the end, he pushed past her into the changing room and quickly stripped, which ended up being a bad idea because it pulled at the wound. He grumbled to himself out of frustration and then snatched a towel off of a shelf, wrapping it around himself as he walked into the steamy room. He had to admit that it felt good on his skin, but what he didn't want was someone coming to bother him about his wounds. It seemed like people would be ten times more likely to ask in the showers because the whole lack of clothing thing seemed to emphasize it.

For that reason, he tried to make quick work of his shower, squirting the body soap out of the containers on the wall and then running it over his body while making sure to avoid both sets of bandages. He knew this couldn't be sanitary or good for his injuries, but he clearly wasn't getting out of it. Luckily, he'd gotten enough practice doing this by now that he wasn't getting soap into his wounds much anymore.

Gant heard more than saw someone else take the shower next to his. He didn't particularly mind it, but he glanced over just to see if it was anyone he knew. It wasn't. His eyes returned to the soap dispenser in front of him for a moment, then after a few seconds he turned back in an abrupt double-take. The tune on his lips died and his mouth fell open a bit in horror.

The man was absolutely coated in bandages; the whole left half of his face and his side, dressed and covered. What kind of monster could have gotten hold of him and left him injured quite like that? He'd seen some patients with injuries milling about the day before, and just this morning he had run into Gren and his arm had been bandaged. But this... this was ridiculous.

"Um, had a tough night there, sonny?" Gant asked, returning to his washing though his eyes remained fixed on the half-mummy man beside him. Gant needed to what it was and where it had attacked him, so he could make note of it and avoid it like the plague. He was not going to lose half his face and hair to any monster here; he liked his looks too much for that.

Had he called it or had he called it?

Granted, Harvey wasn't quite used to someone asking after him in that way, and so it was mild surprise that caused him to look to his side at the questioner against his better judgment. The man he saw was unexpected for a few reasons: one, the fact that he was far above the normal age range here (Harvey already was, and this stranger probably had about twenty years on him), and two, that he had a seriously impressive tan going on.

Normally he would have been annoyed at someone calling him "sonny" (it screamed condescension), but for the moment he was just too flabbergasted to think much of it. He realized that he looked even worse for the wear considering the burn wound on his side (he was sure it complimented the one on his face so well), but nonetheless, that didn't mean people needed to fret over him.

"Yeah, you could say that," he said with a sigh as he angled his body under the spray of the shower so that he could rinse without soaking the bandages around his side. "But you wouldn't believe me if I told you. One of the brainwashed patients kind of went overboard." She hadn't even given them a fighting chance, which just seemed even more insulting than some run-of-the-mill monster. At least they were straight-forward and didn't randomly change around body parts like that.

Wait, it was a patient that did that? Gant glanced away to give the man some privacy while he rinsed, but the chief's mind stayed on those injuries. Brainwashed patients that attack other patients--hadn't he heard that somewhere? That's right, Showy had brought it up just last night but he had made it sound like they were just supposed to act as guards. Well, with people like Recluse around he shouldn't be surprised to find others with cruel, killing spirits here.

"Heh heh, I think 'overboard' might be an understatement," Gant mumbled, more to himself than the other man. Eh, at least he didn't have to worry about the same monster that attacked this guy to be hanging around every night. Showy and Recluse made it sound like it was just a sporadic happening. But he'd keep it in mind.

He turned back to Harvey with his large, trademark grin. "Well, you know what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Gant certainly wasn't know for his gentle and understanding nature. "You must be made of some stout stuff. By the way, the name's Gant. Chief Damon Gant."

Yeah, yeah, it was an understatement, but that was because laser eye holes weren't supposed to exist and changing someone's gender with a snap of a finger wasn't supposed to be possible. But there was no point in getting hung up on what was and wasn't doable when it had all clearly happened. As expected, the two teenagers were back in their male bodies now, but he wouldn't be surprised if they ended up needing years of therapy after all that.

But man, this guy had thrown out a wildly insensitive comment and a compliment in the same breath. Harvey wasn't sure about it making him stronger; it had certainly made him more ruthless, more willing to grab a gun and pull the trigger, but... Did that count as strength? Probably not. He'd tried to be the white knight who was always strong and always played a fair game, but that clearly hadn't worked.

The thing was, sometimes there were instances where it seemed like death would be the better option. Not that he was going to say that to Gant here, but...

"Chief?" he asked with a tilt of his head, his expression somewhat pinched. He wasn't sure if he really liked this guy all that much yet, but he wasn't going to write him off too quickly either. "Chief of what?" He reached out for another dispenser, getting some shampoo this time around. "Oh, and it's Dent. Harvey Dent." There was no title necessary anymore.

From the look on his face, Gant judged this man to be kinda like Manny. That is, a sourpuss. What a shame. And Gant hadn't even invited him to go swimming yet! But with those injuries, maybe it was better to hold on to that invitation for a later date.

Gant lathered up some more shampoo and attacked his hair again. These cheap products the institute provided for them likely wouldn't do much cleaning, but he really hated to look like a slimy mess when meeting new people. How could he make a great impression if he looked like a slob? They'd already taken his lovely orange suit and rosy spectacles away. If he was going to wear those god awful sweatsuits around all day, the least he could do is have his hair in order.

"Why, Chief of Police, of course!" he exclaimed, repeating the rinsing process. He certainly didn't look like a Fire Chief or some random Chief of Staff, in Gant's opinion. And what other kind of chiefs were worth knowing, anyhow? "Work for the L.A. police precinct. A pleasure to meet you, Dent old boy."

And yet another patient that lacked good nicknaming prospects. Probably the worst he'd heard yet. Just changing "Harvey" to "Harv" was boring. And you couldn't shorten or pretty up something as straightforward as "Dent." Had great potential as a cop name, though. "Got yourself an occupation there, Dent?"

If he really was a cop, Gant would be thoroughly amused. But he would rather meet someone with a career that involved cultivating vast influence. Or at least someone who held more political clout than a teenager, a musician or a dictator of some fake country.

While Gant was shampooing his hair with what seemed to be great gusto, Harvey was left to do the exact opposite. Getting any of the shampoo onto the left side of his scalp would hurt enough to make him scream like a girl, and that was the last thing he needed to be doing in a shower room full of other naked men. For that reason, he was extremely careful to only draw his fingers through what was left of his hair. It had been making an admirable effort of staying on his head despite the fact that half of his scalp had been burnt to a crisp, and he wanted to keep it that way. As much as he didn't want to salvage his injured side, he might as well make sure that the intact half of his face was in good order. Call it a remnant of some previous vanity.

Letting the shampoo sit in his hair for a moment, Harvey focused on Gant's response. The Chief of Police? That was nothing to sneeze at, but it also wasn't as ridiculous as Hammer's claim that he was the CEO of some super-important company that he'd never even heard of. Nonetheless, it certainly didn't warm Harvey to the man any. The police department he knew was notoriously corrupt, and while he knew that wasn't necessarily the case in other cities, he wouldn't be surprised if Los Angeles suffered from it as well. The disease of corruption was hard to root out, but it was hard to imagine that the chief wouldn't be well aware of it.

And so Gant's pleasant attitude quickly started to grate at Harvey. This was a man who probably hid all the things he'd let slip under his nose with a nice old man demeanor, and he didn't like it. Nor did he like that fact that he'd just been called "old boy."

He put off answering for a moment by rinsing his hair off, once again taking a lot of care to make sure that his wounds didn't get too soaked. In the end, he didn't think it would be a good idea to let Gant know that he'd given up his original occupation. It was better to play it straight -- if the guy came to his own conclusions, that was his business.

"I'm an attorney," he said with a shrug. It occurred to him that Gant was yet another example of someone involved in law enforcement who had been brought here, which brought the number by one. Maybe he'd let Lana know, if he happened to run into her.

Nice, standoffish pause there, mummy man. This guy sure could make someone feel right at home. Maybe Dent had an attitude because he was just wanted get clean and didn't like being distracted. Well, tough! Gant wasn't about to let anyone brush him to the side. If anything, this kind of behavior only challenged him to be even more friendly.

"What a coincidence! I'm friends with lots of attorney back home! Prosecutors, mostly." He actually preferred prosecutors. They helped him get criminals canned, while defense attorneys were on the other side, helping those maggots when they got caught. Wrighto may have been different, but most defense attorneys were no better than the scum they represented.

Gant finally started working on washing his body, but he was pretty routine about it. Not nearly as devoted as he had been with his hair. "A few of those prosecutor friends are here, in fact." And one's about as quiet and cold as you. "Hope they survived last night."

It made sense that the Chief of Police would know some prosecutors, though Harvey had to wonder if the man was really "friends" with them. His own relationship with the police force had always been tumultuous, and he still had a grudge the size of his burn wound against Gordon. That was for a number of different reasons, though. They'd only sort of gotten along to start with (there had been a lot of distrust brewing there), and that had all fallen apart when the man's dirty hands had led to Harvey and Rachel's kidnapping.

When Gant also mentioned that some of the attorneys who he knew were here, Harvey had to wonder if they were the same ones he'd come across during his time here. "That so?" he said with a glance around, looking for that Edgeworth guy first and foremost. He hadn't seen the younger man in a while, though; it was the female prosecutors who he'd spoken to more recently.

"I've run into a few, too. A young German girl and a woman in her mid-twenties." He wasn't going to give names just yet. He didn't know why, but he was going to play it safe with this Gant guy. "Ring a bell?" If it turned out they were all from the same district, that would certainly stand out. Why so many attorneys from the same area? And why did he seem to be the only one from Gotham?

"Hmm, 'fraid I don't know any young Germans, though there is an older gentleman prosecutor I know, and he's most certainly German." Oh, Manny. It was hard to believe he could be alive and kicking when Gant had been sure his death sentence had been carried out. He'd even attended the man's funeral; they'd known each other for so long, it would have been shameful not to, even after the prosecutor's fall from grace. But... it must have all been some elaborate ruse of the institute. However they had managed to smuggle him here without anyone figuring it out was really beyond Gant's imagination.

"And as for a woman in her mid-twenties, you wouldn't happen to be talking about Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye, wouldn't you?" Gant was almost certain he was referring to her--really, how many prosecutors could there be in one place? Well, if he was correct in assuming Landel was collecting people of influence, then maybe there were more female prosecutors worth noting than Gant had surmised. But that begged the question as to why people like Gren and Niikura were here. Sure, Gren was a musician, but was he influential? And Niikura... now, that boy had some secret about him, but what was it really? Something big enough to get him trapped here, apparently.

Gant turned off his shower head and began ringing out his hair, contemplating the endless questions that swam in his head.

How many German people involved in law enforcement were there in this place? First Franziska, then Lunge, and now this other unknown person. Harvey hadn't come across anyone like that himself, but it didn't seem like Gant would have a reason to lie. His words would have been seen through too easily, after all. He had to wonder if this older German man had been factored into the number that Lana had come up with, but it was hard to know.

But it turned out that Gant did know Lana. She hadn't even been around here that long, so they must have met up recently, which made sense if they knew each other from home. Harvey was kind of curious to know what the woman's opinion of the police chief was, but he clearly wasn't going to find out until he spoke with her again. He would just have to make a point of tracking her down soon.

"Yeah, I know her," he said with a shrug. "I helped her out her first night, and we've spoken a little bit after that." He was assuming that Gant already knew about the nightshift. He was probably on the newer side of things, but he wasn't totally clueless. He certainly seemed to have the showering portion of this down pat, seeing how he was already done. Granted, Harvey was just as eager to get this over with, and so he turned off his own shower head in turn.

"Did you two work in the same precinct?" he asked as the water slowed to a drip, glancing over his shoulder at the older man.

So he'd helped out Lana? What a good Samaritan good ol' Dent was turning out to be. Gant had a feeling they'd gotten along swimmingly that night. Well, half-way decently at least. Both were pretty cold but Lana may have disliked Harvey's reluctance in sharing information, unless he happened to just have a soft spot for women.

"Glad to hear you've been taking care of Lana." Not that she needed much help defending herself, but going into the night blind could have been pretty tragic. And Gant really was grateful for Harvey's help; having Lana in one piece was better than having her in pieces.

"That we do!" Gant laughed, emphasizing the present tense rather than the past. "Lana was actually my partner a few years back, when I was still just a lowly homicide detective. She had a lot of talent as a detective, but her dream was always to be a prosecuting attorney."

Grabbing his towel, Gant began to rigorously dry his hair. His next words probably came out a bit muffled. "'Course, she may not have been promoted quite so quickly without a good word from me... But, she certainly deserves every promotion she's gotten. With her as Chief Prosecutor, we've kept the city cleaner than it's been in years." He didn't want to make Lana out to be a complete charity case, but she certainly owed him quite a bit. But perhaps the ones who owed him most of all were the citizen of Los Angeles. Why, without his brilliant work, both in the Police Department and the Prosecutor's Office, they'd never feel safe walking the streets. He really was a hero, no doubt about it.

"I don't know about taking care of her," Harvey responded a bit sharply as he grabbed for his own towel and started to dry off. He honestly wanted to get back to the changing room so that he could get some clothes on again and take a proper look at his wounds (and ask for new bandages if need be), but Gant seemed intent on continuing the conversation where they stood. And the subject matter was too relevant for Harvey to just walk away.

In any case, he didn't really like the implication that Lana would have needed his help. He didn't know if there was some sexism involved there, but he was going to hope that wasn't the case. "She was pretty much on top of things. She caught on quickly and made sure she was a help rather than a burden." All of which was true. While their night together hadn't earned them more than some scalpels, at least he hadn't spent the time annoyed.

It sounded like both Gant and Lana had started as detectives, but he had become Chief of Police and she had moved on to being the Chief Prosecutor. What a matched pair. Harvey didn't really like the implication that Gant had helped the woman get to where she was, as if she wouldn't have been able to manage it on her own, but he left that alone for now. Maybe it was true; the system was a broken one, and women could have a hard time breaking through. Rachel had often mentioned how people didn't take her seriously, as ridiculous as that was.

But to move away from that thought as quickly as possible, Harvey found himself tensing at the mention of a clean city. It was what he'd always wanted for Gotham, and yet the task had been too large for him. It was too big for anyone, Batman included. That costumed crazy just hadn't figured it out yet; he hadn't been broken quite enough yet.

"It looks like Los Angeles is in capable hands, then. She seems very good at what she does." Harvey wasn't going to comment on Gant's ability. The man hadn't really shown himself to be anything other than grating thus far, but he probably had connections, and sometimes that was all that mattered, as frustrating as it was to admit.

"Lana's certainly something else." Gant wasn't sure if he liked where this conversation was going. If anything, Harvey sounded snippier than ever. Maybe it would be a good idea to start heading into the changing room and finish up their talk there?

"She's usually very capable and cool-headed about most things, but she wasn't at her best the night the doors went all wonky." Gant looked over his shoulder to see if Dent had moved with him, then started pulling on his clothing. "Seems her dear little sister had been taken in for a sleep study. At the time I wasn't knowledgeable of all that entailed, so I'm afraid I may have been a bit insensitive that night."

There wasn't much remorse in his voice, but he could still sound worried when it suited him. "Just want you to keep in mind, she can push herself too hard sometimes. Not that it isn't admirable, but I worry about her health."

He wondered if he was helping or hurting his case by trying to show some concern. Dent could think whatever he wanted, but Gant would rather the man left with at least a half-way decent opinion of him. But it certainly was harder to show off his capabilities here than it had been back in L.A. And few people could vouch for his abilities without simultaneously revealing a little of the questionable side of nature.

He could only hope Lana wouldn't suddenly decide to remember the outcome of the Goodman case if Dent ever pried. He seemed reluctant enough to give Gant a break as it was, and they barely knew one another.

It looked like they were starting to move back toward the changing room, which Harvey was more than happy to do. He quickly wrapped his towel around his middle and crossed the room as he took in Gant's words about Lana. So it sounded like there were certain things that would break even through her calm exterior. That wasn't something he took much joy out of learning. He honestly wouldn't have had a clue that the woman had a younger sister here, which showed just how good she was at keeping her personal issues to herself.

But in Landel's, that sort of thing always caught up with you in the end. They had taken Rachael's death and shoved it in his face more than a few times, and he didn't keep his composure that well in those instances either. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said with a shake of his head. Chances were that Lana's sister hadn't deserved whatever she'd been put through. Harvey could get behind the idea of making people pay for crimes they'd committed, to the point of their punishment being a bullet in the head, but the torture of someone innocent just got under his skin.

Reaching the changing room, he grabbed for a fresh towel and then dried himself off more thoroughly. He nodded when the man expressed some concern about Lana overdoing it. He could only imagine: she would try to bottle up her anxiety about her sister and keep going, and it would catch up with her. He knew what that was like.

"Sounds like you might have good reason to. I'll keep it in mind if I run into her again." Not that he was very good at the comforting thing, but he wouldn't add any undue stress onto her. At the same time, distractions could be good. It was just a matter of finding the right balance.

God, why did the uniform here have to be gray? It was bland bordering on ridiculous! If it had been a suit maybe it would have been different, but these were more like pajamas than anything else. Gant hated people seeing him dressed so casually, but if that's all the institute would offer he had to take it. If another comment box went up on the bulletin in the future, this would be the one thing he would insist on changing. And perhaps the addition of a pool out back.

"She's had it rough, that girl," Gant said, a bit distracted as he combed his fingers through his hair, glancing into a nearby mirror on occasion. He actually hadn't heard anything about Ema's condition but he was sure it wasn't pleasant. Even Manny hadn't looked completely disinterested in the subject, which was as close to sympathy as it got as far as the perfectionist prosecutor was concerned.

"Glad to hear she has your support!" Gant turned away from his reflection completely and back to Harvey. "If she would just take a vacation now and then, I wouldn't be so upset, but..." He shook his head, as if to say 'what can you do?' Then, giving the other man a not too hardy clap on the back (even Gant wasn't so insensitive as to hit an injured man too hard) he grinned and said, "Anywho! It was a pleasure meeting you, Dent! Hope we get along in the future. But for now, lunch is calling my name." And with that, the chief took his leave. Hopefully it looked less like a retreat than it felt.

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Day 51: Men's Showers [Second Shift]

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