![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( 019 ) Ω ( VOICE + SPAM )
Jul. 30th, 2014 10:01 am[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.]
