snowblindrpg | [log] Noisy Black, Part One [closed]

[Yep, he figured there would be questions if people he knew are here. Not everyone could have been awake to see his post. The best he can do is keep working with a feigned air of chill.]

In the newly minted flesh. I died last night, Strange.

...Oh.

[If he sounds lost as well as sad, well, it's because he'd never even had any idea. Stephen breathes a haggard sigh, pressing his forehead against the bars.]

Welcome back. Looks like they really rolled out the red carpet for you.

And I'm wiggling my toes in the plush.

[He actually is, now that he says it. He hasn't had toes in literal years. The experience of feeling anything under his feet is made novel again, let alone warm carpet—even if it's the boring, grey, office kind.]

Sounds like you found the stopper to your verbal faucet. When did that happen?

This morning, apparently. It was still going strong last night when I got a House call.

[House call, get it?]

Edited (html, my true nemesis) 2017-07-17 16:59 (UTC)

[Davesprite huffs a sigh.]

Fuck House. He didn't hassle you any worse, did he?

Not really.

[This is the part where he'd spill House's secret -- if it is a secret -- in turn, tell Davesprite all about the other doctor coming to him for help getting off Vicodin. He still could. House would deserve it.

But he doesn't have to, and he doesn't want to. He agreed to help because it's a chance to make someone else's life less hellish and conserve what little medical supply they have left, and he's not going to throw away whatever little trust is between them for petty revenge.]

Didn't tell him much of anything new, either, don't worry.

At least there's that.

[He doesn't sound very satisfied about it. He shifts his stance, not used to standing yet.]

You know he didn't even feel sorry for prying that out of you? He talked to me last night. Told him to apologize to the guy affected; he flat out refused.

I know. I didn't even ask and he still told me he wasn't sorry. Almost like he's trying to get people to hate him, but gee, that doesn't sound like House, does it?

[DOES IT, HOUSE.]

The only point he apologized was when I called him on wanting me to do some experiment shit when I was in the middle of dying, and it was half-assed enough that I don't care how prickly he is to drive people off in everyday habit. He fucked up, Strange. He fucked up on multiple levels, and I wasn't going to take a sorry from him just so I could satisfy another mystery boner by recording what would happen after me and the cat died.

[His tone is heavy and pointed.]

[Stephen gives a little shake of his head. His tone is gentle and reasonable when he replies, one of those rare moments when he can summon up a serious attempt to talk another person through something difficult.]

You don't have to forgive him. Sometimes if someone's driving you away, it's kind of alright to just get out instead of going on taking it. I don't think you really need me to tell you that, though.

[It strikes him all in a different way than it could. House is the main thing, sure, and with him he knows. Even if it hurts to have that wedge there. But being like this, in this body, has the subject of John Egbert never far from mind.]

[Sometimes if someone's driving you away, it's kind of alright to just get out instead of going on taking it.]

[Norfinbury had to complicate it all the more with their anomalies, and then with Winter telling him what brought in wrong means. He scrubs a hand through his hair, and tries not to get distracted with the difference in texture without bird scales covering his fingers.]

I'm not going to without good reason.

[That's the easier answer. He's not going to speak for the ache that wants to anyway.]

[For Stephen it's a matter of looking at it from the other side, accepting that when Christine finally abandoned him it was because he'd made things so completely untenable for her that she'd had no other reasonable option. That hurts worse now that he's seen her brought here wrong, her specter weighing on his mind whenever his mind goes down this path.

He gives Davesprite a long look and a slow nod, not entirely happy with the answer even though it's the same answer he gave by agreeing to help House with his withdrawal...not that it looks like they'll have the chance now.]

That's your choice to make.

Yep.

[Easy answer. He doesn't really want to think on it more than this, though. Whatever House will do in the hereafter will just have to happen when it happens.]

[He turns his thoughts aside.]

You got any ideas what we're being imprisoned for?

Edited 2017-07-18 21:10 (UTC)

None that I like. They don't want us dead, at least.

[Which is not actually reassuring in the slightest. The office building means they're in the industrial area, which in turn means they're in cult territory. Winter had suggested there might still be cult members alive and pulling their strings, and Stephen has some pretty strong suspicions about what they'll be in for once their keepers show their faces.

And he's not going to share any of those thoughts with a scared teenager.]

[Stephen may not say it, but it definitely turns the tone of his thoughts. His tone turns more restrained as he says,]

Put me down for not liking it either.

[There's a lot that can be done a person without killing them.]

[Stephen presses his mouth into a line, unable to offer comfort.]

They'll probably try to transport us somewhere else if they're going to do anything. That'll be our best chance.

[He nods a little, not looking at Stephen.]

Probably. And if somebody does come along, we're bound to notice unless we get paralyzed or put to sleep tonight.

Yep.

[He hasn't wanted to consider the admittedly strong possibility that they'll be paralyzed, unable to fight back at all when someone does come for them.]

...How is the walking coming?

[This topic is easier, and his tone picks up obviously for it.]

Like somebody keeps tilting the floor when I'm not looking. I can feel when my balance starts to tip, but actually catching myself? That's the hard part. I've got bruises on top of bruises. But I've got enough advice that I roughly know what I need to do, it's just getting it all going at once that's hard.

You picked a hell of a time to start rehab, kid.

[Hah. Ha.]

I could give you more advice. Explain it step by step.

Zell sent me a video doing that with Jim's help last night, but I'm not going to say no if you've got extra pointers. I haven't exactly got my tablet to refer back to.

[He wishes he has something more to hold onto than just the bars on one side. Don't people in rehab have those bar things to support themselves with? His legs aren't even weak, but if he could get the hang of that much, it would make the rest so much easier.]

[Too bad the morgue was bound to kick him out come morning, but what can you do in a place like this?]

I never really listened in physical therapy.

[And it wasn't for his legs, besides.]

It was...step by step. A joke.

[Well, now that he says it. He hangs his head, shakes it, looks back up.]

You really punning with me now, Strange? I should have caught that. I've been fired from the baseball league, too many fly balls gone on my watch, and now the umpire's pitching a fit because how are they going to run a game when the catcher's out of strikes?

[He knows jack and shit about baseball.]

Don't mind me, man. I can't even pay attention to everything going on when we're stuck like this.

[Stephen chuckles, pretty sure Davesprite got his metaphor wrong but no more an expert on sportsball himself.]

I think that's when they walk you to first base, though.

Is it? Do they just rotate the players like that? Shit, maybe that's why they call it the outfield.

[He is seriously considering this.]

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