Scott McCall (
semifreakingnormal) wrote2014-07-30 10:01 am
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( 019 ) Ω ( VOICE + SPAM )
[When the audio comes on, there's some wind, distant bird calls; it doesn't take a great detective to tell that he's in the CES.]
Peter's gone. His door's - normal again.
[He lapses into silence for a moment, then lets out a long breath.]
Does this always happen in groups?
[Infirmary Wardens Filter]
[Scott's not sure how to start, here. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, but he owes Jack this, and he's not going to back away.]
I know inmates don't usually get keys, but after what happened last week, I think Jack needs one. I can tell you - as his warden - that the reasons he's here have nothing to do with what he can do as a doctor. He's a good one, and he's not gonna get anywhere without trust. I'm going to ask the Admiral for a key for him, but...I wanted to talk to you guys about it, first. To see if there are any problems I'm not seeing, I guess.
[Open spam in the CES]
[He's burning off energy with a lacrosse stick and a few balls and a make shift net. He scoops and throws, scoops and throws, and it's not helping, so he scoops faster, throws harder. When one of the balls tears through the goal and Scott is seeing in red, he twists his hands around the stick until he hears it creaking, and throws it at the ground.
There's nothing he can do. There's nothing he can do but keep going, and he's so--
Scott isn't good at talking things through. He's bad at finding the right words, using them right, and part of him just wants to take off running through the woods. He doesn't. He knows he can't run away from what he's feeling. Instead, he rakes his hands through his hair, down his face, clenches them into fists and yells up at the tree tops. It's not a howl, he doesn't make the trees around him shake, but there is an unearthly undertone to his voice, a growling baritone underneath it that stands as a reminder of what he is. When his voice fades, he picks up his stick and starts again.]
Peter's gone. His door's - normal again.
[He lapses into silence for a moment, then lets out a long breath.]
Does this always happen in groups?
[Infirmary Wardens Filter]
[Scott's not sure how to start, here. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, but he owes Jack this, and he's not going to back away.]
I know inmates don't usually get keys, but after what happened last week, I think Jack needs one. I can tell you - as his warden - that the reasons he's here have nothing to do with what he can do as a doctor. He's a good one, and he's not gonna get anywhere without trust. I'm going to ask the Admiral for a key for him, but...I wanted to talk to you guys about it, first. To see if there are any problems I'm not seeing, I guess.
[Open spam in the CES]
[He's burning off energy with a lacrosse stick and a few balls and a make shift net. He scoops and throws, scoops and throws, and it's not helping, so he scoops faster, throws harder. When one of the balls tears through the goal and Scott is seeing in red, he twists his hands around the stick until he hears it creaking, and throws it at the ground.
There's nothing he can do. There's nothing he can do but keep going, and he's so--
Scott isn't good at talking things through. He's bad at finding the right words, using them right, and part of him just wants to take off running through the woods. He doesn't. He knows he can't run away from what he's feeling. Instead, he rakes his hands through his hair, down his face, clenches them into fists and yells up at the tree tops. It's not a howl, he doesn't make the trees around him shake, but there is an unearthly undertone to his voice, a growling baritone underneath it that stands as a reminder of what he is. When his voice fades, he picks up his stick and starts again.]
voice;
[ telling everyone ]
I tried, but I couldn't do it.
[ wwwwithout sounding completely unstable. ehh, unstable isn't the right word, and she doesn't sound that way now, she just sounds- kinda crushed. ]
voice;
It's okay.
[He's not sure if he means she doesn't have to thank him, or if it'll be okay, or - he's just not sure.]
Do you want company, or anything? [He smiles a little, and it manages to slip into his voice.] I could bring a science book.
voice;
[ yeah, she's smiling a bit too ]
Company would be- really great, actually. I haven't really left my room outside of meal times for the last few days - totally lame, I know - so I think I'm due for some human interaction. I'd like that.
voice;
I'll be there soon.
[He has a vague idea of what floor she's on, and - this still creeps him out - can follow his nose once he's close enough. True to his word, he brings a book - something chosen from the library completely at random, probably about quantum mechanics or something. He knocks.]
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Which is a weird way for a teenage human to sound when they shout, but his body language is suggesting maybe she's got that wrong. Interesting.]
Scott?
[She remembers his name and says it while she's still fairly far away from him, just in case he's the jumpy sort.]
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Not quite jumpy, just...startled.]
Oh. Cassandra, hi.
[He blinks, like he's not sure why she's here, and spins the stick in his hands.]
How...how are you?
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There's too much that's gone wrong, if she lets herself think about it nothing will be fixed.]
Can call me Cass. Since we're... on the same team. How are you?
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[infirmary filter]
Only the Admiral grants keys. We have to ask, and in specific duties -- infirmary, engine room, and so on-- the keys only go to trained wardens. As much as I'd like to accommodate you, nobody in the infirmary can give him keys short of giving them up themselves, which I highly suggest against.
And considering we've had keys stolen in the past and a nanite-enhanced rabies epidemic released on the ship, the fewer keys we have out there, the better. [ He never did really forgive Selina for that. It utterly destroyed their relationship. ] This can be problematic in some ways, but... this is the balance we have to walk here.
[infirmary filter]
[infirmary filter]
The limited ability to govern his own life and the limited trust we invest, well... That's part of being an inmate. I don't know what he's done and I'm not casting judgments there. But the average criminal does not often come here as an inmate, and that's why they're not treated as such, but there are still divisions to be made and lines drawn.
Standing shoulder to shoulder with wardens, as opposed to being part of the inmate population, including the supervised workers among the inmates, is probably not a good precedent to set. He'll get it when he's earned it through working on whatever his issues may be, as opposed to being given it by his warden.
[ Bruce Banner: Harsh dose of ugly reality while trying to get up to speed on everything with a fantastic case of bed hair. He knows he means well, but sometimes one has to be reminded that inmates are not always your friends and there are rules. ]
[ Of course, being a huge downer is why Bruce has so few friends. ]
[infirmary filter]
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Spam
The nogitsune. Allison dying at home. The mirror barge. Peter vanishing from the ship. The chaos, the pain. Watching Allison die again. He might be an alpha werewolf, but at the end of the day, Scott is just a seventeen year old kid. And he's losing his hope.
The sound of the angry, pained yelling is almost too much to bear and he has to shut his eyes, letting out an inaudible, shaking breath. He flexes his fingers and lets his eyes open again, taking a couple of steps toward his best friend as Scott starts hurling lacrosse balls once more.]
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That's when he hears Stiles. He turns, fighting his expression, trying to rally. He can do this. He has to be able to do this. Someone in control would say something, and Scott tries - but he can't find the right words. He just looks at Stiles, then drops his gaze down to the lacrosse stick in his hand.
He didn't get there in time.]
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He practically feels Scott's anger and guilt. All the weight he's carrying. He reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and he takes a deep breath. He's not great with motivational speeches. But he isn't sure that's what Scott needs right now anyway. Maybe what he needs is just a gentle reminder.]
Regression to the mean.
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[Like Scott needs to deal with even more loss right now.]
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[Disappeared, or fell. But he doesn't want to entertain that idea.]
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How are you holding up? [With Peter, with Allison, with Stiles.]
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Filter
...Maybe we can do some sort of compromise? Especially if the Admiral agrees with Dr. Banner.
Jack could keep treating patients with supervision, until everyone is satisfied that he's completely trustworthy. The other doctors don't even have to be there - I can keep tabs from my office, psychically.
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But that won't help anything. Scott has better control than that.]
Maybe that'll be good. I don't think he'd like it all that much, if he knew...but maybe it'd be an okay start.
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He's taking a run out of uniform, today, but he's got the shield anyway - just a little extra resistance, not enough to matter, but it's best to get yourself used to all kinds of scenarios, he's done plenty of running with it out of uniform, recently - when he hears something, off in the distance. A yell? It doesn't sound like a fight, or a call for help, but all the same, he's attracted to that direction, spotting Scott looking distinctly unhappy, if very focused on slinging balls into that goal.]
Hey.
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Hey. What's up? [He forces a small smile.] Come to practice?
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Sometimes just working off the frustration is pretty gratifying - he's learned that, the past few years. He's sort of done it a lot, himself.]
I could probably use it. [He smiles wryly, but he's not going to force the issue if Scott seems like he wants to be alone.] I wouldn't want to distract you, though.
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[The 'sorry' is lurking in his tone.]
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