Day 52: Game Room

[full-score.livejournal.com]

Lunch had taken his mind from his worries, if only for a few minutes. But after the intercom sounded and the nurses began leading patients onto the next activity, one look at the bulletin board brought everything back in full force. No replies from Ashton, Dias or Dad. By now Claude felt like he was practically counting down until the end of the day, when he was going to have to finally grapple with the real possibility that most of his friends from before Landel's, as well as his own father, had fallen victim to the institute.

And now he was going to have to deal with his mother being here on top of that. It didn't seem like a coincidence that she'd show up right when his father's whereabouts were so up in the air. But what did it mean? Why couldn't Landel leave his family out of this?

Normally, the announcement about new video games would have made him perk up, but his eyebrows only knit together with concern as his nurse led him into the game room. That didn't seem to stop her from trying to get him to unwind, though.

"Oh, come now, Thomas, you've worn that expression for most of the day!" she told him with a frown. "Why don't you have a bit of fun now that your eyes are all better? I'm sure you could use it."

The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his "sleep studies", he darkly thought to himself. But before he could protest, his nurse had sat him down in front of one of the television screens. There was an old gaming console, one Claude had never seen before, and he glanced at her with a confused expression. "Go on," she encouraged as she placed one of the controllers in his hands. "I know how much you enjoy these kinds of things. Someone will come play with you soon, too, I'm sure. Doesn't that sound nice?"

He didn't have time to answer her, because she'd soon bustled off to tend to some of the other patients. Claude watched her leave with a sigh. He realized the daytime staff meant well, which made knowing what they turned into at night even worse to think about. But now he was just being negative for the sake of it, wasn't he?

Taking in a small breath, he reached over to the console and turned it on. As long as he was waiting for some kind of answer from the bulletin, there probably wasn't much he could do except pass the time. Claude watched the title screen appear on the television, his expression growing more curious in spite of himself. Super Mario Bros....

[For Prussia!]

Comments

[affictitious]

So he was only taking very little enjoyment in the fact he was able to hang all these incredibly accurate hints over everyone's heads and chant about how the future was so great and had flying cars and everything. Really.

Except for the whole died for the meatsuits to save them and the ex and didn't get so much as a thank you or a few hail Marys. Unjustified irritation? Totally. But it was there, since he sure as hell wasn't having any altars dedicated to him for that whole martyrdom thing. Not to mention he and Dean had had such a profound bonding moment, and the kid was still itching to gank him. Again. Permanently.

Which, considering how last night had gone, was feasible - the ropelike bruises on his wrist were a reminder of how mojoless he was. And being staked now? Would kind of hurt.

Maybe after his plans tonight, he'd be... kind of... formidable. Or at least have a large, pointy stick in his hand. That would be kind of off-putting for attempted murder, right?

"Right, that one. Well, you know. Trickster and all. S'what we do. I was kind of annoyed about that, actually. It was a good offer, and you ruined my shirt." Well, janitor uniform, but the principle was the same. He wasn't a big fan of big sharp things near him at all, and after the fourth stabbing... it had gotten a little old. "Ahh, but don't worry about it! It's all in the past. You'll get a bunch of shit for it eventually, so I figure why worry?"

[kindalikedit]

Dean's eyes narrowed.

He almost slugged the douchebag in the face right there and then.

Actually, screw that. Screw every evil thing out there rubbing it. He was sick and tired of them trying to go for the same old ball shot.

Dean was still smiling, right up until he wound up and decked the Trickster smack in the face. He had to admit it felt damn good, even if this could be his last two seconds before he got turned into a goat or teleported headfirst into the Bermuda Triangle.

What was it with these creatures and them all knowing about the deal, enough to gloat about it like it wasn't going to go out of style? How the hell was it traveling this fast down the grapevine? Just exactly how long had it been since he'd been taken? This was way faster than him being out of commission for just a few weeks. Either way, he figured he didn't have long to enjoy punching out a demigod and it was weird already when it hadn't hurt as much as he'd expected to hit it in its smirking face. He would've thought y'know, demigod, it should've been like punching a brick wall, but it didn't feel too much different from when he'd gone up against humans. Yeah, his knuckles stung and he could hear one of the nurses coming over to break up it up, but as far as he could tell, he hadn't broken anything.

Now it was just a matter of seeing if the nurse was gonna get there first or he could expect that one way vacation to Bermuda any second now. Dean's teeth grit as he shook his stinging hand, nostrils flaring as he breathed in angrily.

Maybe he had enough time to punch the Trickster a second time, Dean still raring to go bad.

[damned-nurses.livejournal.com]

The cracking noise of one patient's fist connecting with another patient's face was actually loud enough to cut through all of the music and sound effects coming from the televisions that had been set up in the room. One of the nurses, who witnessed the punch as if it had been playing out in slow motion (she'd watched it happen, but with no way to get there fast enough to stop it!), moved from her post against one of the walls of the Game Room and marched over to the two, with one orderly following after her.

"Mr. Derringer, how could you?" she asked as she reached the pair. "Noah here is a new patient. You can't be treating him -- or anyone else, for that matter -- like that!" With the scolding done and her hands placed firmly on her hips, she pulled forward to grab the controller and place it in the man's hands again.

"Now," she continued, "are you two going to play nice?" She glanced from Dean to Gabriel, giving the latter a sympathetic smile.

[affictitious]

Okay, ow didn't really cut it. Maybe really ow or super ow. But being the super touch angel he was, he didn't voice his pain. He just winced a little, cupping his nose in his hands. And maybe kicking the ground in pain a little.

And some muttering about what a dick the smaller Winchester was.

He would have made his way away from the inevitable second punching (he saw those nostrils a-goin' and that meant, in now-human terms, to get the fuck out) except for the interruption. New nurse, while not sufficiently hot as Piccowang, was not up to the standards that came with giving jerkoffs like Dean a good dick kicking. Shit, he sure as hell hadn't expected the kid to hit him. That was just asking for proverbial hell to rain from the skies. Angels didn't tend to forget grudges, either. Ever.

"I'm am so setting your ass on fire later. I don't mean that metaphorically," he said, with some slight honking with his words. At least he wasn't bleeding. That would've really pissed him off. As for nurse, he was unappreciative, for the most part. "Come on, I don't even get a sympathy sucker punch? This place blows."

[kindalikedit]

"What's stopping you?" Dean shot back. If he was gonna end up with a live reenactment of Backdraft, then what was the hold-up?

He wasn't sure if he would've picked Backdraft or death by Bermuda Triangle. They both kinda sucked.

Dean's hand stung like a mother. Slugging someone usually did and he'd broke his fingers a few times before 'cause he hadn't been careful. Hell, he was lucky he hadn't this time - he'd been so pissed he'd just reacted instead of taking that extra second to properly plan how he was gonna deck this douchebag in the face. He shook his hand, taking in the way the Trickster was cradling his nose like it hurt, even if they both knew perfectly well it wasn't even a flesh wound. Damn shame. He wouldn't have minded breaking the damn thing's nose.

"Look, sweetheart," Dean kept his eyes on the Trickster, even as he spoke to the nurse. He put the controller down next to him, close enough to use as a weapon if he had to. "I'm not gonna sit here and play a friggen video game with this dick."

It was almost surreal. He never thought he'd be sitting here scolded like some snot-nosed kid just 'cause he didn't play nice with monsters.

[damned-nurses.livejournal.com]

While the two men were still flinging threats back and forth and generally acting far younger than their ages suggested, the nurse was glad to see that both of them had seemed to calm down when it came to outright physical hostility. That was a marked improvement, though they were still giving her a lot of attitude, which caused the woman to cross her arms over her chest.

"If the two of you honestly can't get along, then that's fine, but there's no need to resort to attacking each other. If one of you would mind leaving this spot, I'll be more than happy to escort you to a different part of the room."

If she was able to get them to agree to that without either one throwing another punch, then maybe this would be easier to resolve than she'd expected. That would be a nice change from how patients usually acted during interventions like this.

"Also," she added as an afterthought, giving Eric a sideways glance, "there's no need to call me 'sweetheart.'"