[it's fine didn't sound like enough for the state Guy had to be in, but--]
[he can't wholly question it. he doesn't want to see many more undeserving people laid up, but more than that, he wants to see the man behind the blackglass was fine.]
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org Do you want anything else? I can bring it.
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org How can you say something like that?
[-- unintentional. but you can't take a text back after hitting send, and deliberation over how to soften the words or backpedal takes too long to fix anything.]
[He frowns at the reply. Hinata knows how he is. They've been roommates, and the boy's seen him in one of his rare moments of vulnerability. But he doesn't fold.]
FROM: cecil.guy@cdc.org
Well, I am hungry.
[...]
FROM: cecil.guy@cdc.org
It's done and over with. If there's something you want to tell me, tell me when you get here.
[but he doesn't take long to reach medical. stepping into the crowded area with a small bag, he takes even less time to locate the bright hair he means to seek out. he won't say anything on first contact: rather, he drops the bag next to Guy. if investigated, it yields three strips of rough moose jerky; he doesn't, however, smile, never mind give a greeting.]
[Guy's only dropped in for check up. He doesn't intend to stay as an inpatient for too long, not when there's still so many more names to go through on that list. Compared to some of the people who've arrived, he's in good shape. His body still hurts, his mouth still tastes like blood and bile, but he's fine. He can still breathe and walk.
He's resting on one of the cots when he notices a certain kid making his way towards him. Guy doesn't straighten out his hunch, doesn't make a move to look any better than he does. He knows how he looks, and no amount of posturing will cover it.
Instead, he accepts the bag. Looks in, then looks back up with a small, polite smile.]
Thanks. I'm starving.
[A pleasant conversation doesn't seem to be what Hinata came here for, though.] You want to sit down?
[eyes rove over Guy's body, over his face - any tenser lines, anything to signify the recent change. there isn't much. in what there isn't, however, volumes are spoken: no Contractor, Guy couldn't simply ignore what had happened. well. maybe he could on the punishment level, but in regards to others, in the why--- no, Hinata didn't think Guy blind to it.]
[stubbornly well-mannered, yes. the blond always had been.]
... Sorry that it's a little tough. [voice low, Hinata's own bubbling anger barely capped. in contrast to the other, he'd never been any good at hiding his emotions, but it wasn't Guy's fault more than a dozen of people had been punished for no apparent reason. the ginger wouldn't hold onto his control for long, but he could stand not to be rude to the undeserving.]
And thanks, but I'm fine.
[if he tried to sit, he'd spring back up in a heartbeat. as it was, his foot tapped on the metal floor, eyes meeting the other's.]
[how do you feel isn't necessary. sitting up, Hinata had to admit Guy looked better than a number of others. but then, looks weren't everything.]
[...]
It's-- [blurted, words bit off too late to actually stop. he means a dozen different things.] -- Pretty packed in here.
[Hinata's as easy to read as an open book. He's earnest, honest. It reminds him a little of someone he knows, and it's why he bears the look he's given with a learned patience. Guy doesn't look away. There's a pallor to his face that hasn't left, a slight stiffness to his movements as he takes out a jerky that indicates he hasn't fully recovered from the ordeal.
He wasn't lying about being hungry. Guy bites off a chunk, chews slowly before swallowing. Their surroundings is taut with nervous energy and activity. But he focuses on the boy before him, blocking out all distractions.]
Yeah? There were a lot of people. [He keeps his tone conversational, though the cheerfulness he'd usually have is gone. This isn't something you can sweep under the rug and apologize for later. He bites down on his jerky, worries away another portion.]
We're damned lucky we have the medical staff. [That their healers weren't barred from helping them.]
If we hadn't, they'd have been better off killing everyone that participated.
[an impulsive, stupid thing to say, but that just about summed him up. he means it in the sense that the anger in the air felt palpable, and if they had enacted the punishment and left them to their own devices entirely, frustration wouldn't have simply simmered. allowing their healers to aid their crew was the least to be expected.]
[arms fold over his chest, fingers curling tight in the crooks of his elbows. it wasn't right, regardless. it wasn't right, it wasn't reasonable, it was awful and idiotic and unnecessary and --]
[if they were lucky to have medical, then it stood to reason that,]
I suppose asking for reasoning would be like asking for a miracle.
[Hearing Hinata say something so bitter surprises Guy. His gaze flickers over him, studying his expression and body language. He's too used to the boy being a spot of normalcy in the middle of all this chaotic and destructive nonsense. He's viewed him as someone innocent, somehow beyond the reach of this situation. A witness rather than an active participant. It just goes to show how he's wanted it to be for Hinata.
But that's not how it is, is it?]
Killing us wouldn't be good for them. [That's not what this was about.] Don't say something like that.
[he picks up on a bit of surprise, but with a head clogged full of anger (-- it hadn't done him any good before but he wasn't here to get answers from Guy) the note flies out the mental window within a second of registering.]
[this wasn't the time or place. Guy deserved rest. peace. he hadn't come here to rile the blond up - only to see that he was alright, too.]
[but of course, fury wished for fury.]
We're a cheap resource. [an aborted gesture to encompass the room, everything about him stiff and jerky.] Can you deny that?
Hinata. [It's a warning, giving him the chance to back down. Guy's thoughts weren't too far from the boy's (--why did this happen, what did they do wrong, what are they trying to tell them--) but this was not the time or place to act on them. He doesn't have the energy to be as patient as he'd like to be, to rein in his own anger over what's happened.
The recruits were little more than pawns, tossed into a game without knowing the opponent or rules. He still can't figure out the other pieces sharing the board, but he doesn't think the instructors see them anywhere near their level. There's too many unknowns, and this broach of trust is too great.
His mouth presses into a hard line. He can't think any of this right now, or he's certain to fold to his emotions first.]
You're not going to help anyone by thinking that way.
[eyes snap to Guy's, narrowing fast at the warning in Guy's tone. he shifts restlessly, weight moving left, right, to the balls of his feet. the words garner a curled lip, teeth bared for a flash of a second--- and closed tight not a moment after, fingers biting into his palms.]
[he forces himself not to calm but to think. to take a second to listen to the quiet noise of medical, the machinery's hum, low tones of visiting friends, shift of curtains and cots.]
[when he speaks, mercifully, it's not a shout. it is firm, biting, and rough as jagged metal.]
[He's always done his best to keep himself from lashing out. Polite, good-mannered-- these were the traits he played up to mask everything else he may have been feeling. But there's a line for everyone, and Hinata is dancing dangerously close upon the edge.
The cot creaks as he pushes himself up. Draws himself to his full height and stares down at the small boy in front of him with narrowed eyes, expression sharp as a knife.]
You don't really believe that. [Gone is the warmth in his voice. There's a different heat, now, born from the spark he'd been careful to bury deep down. It's dangerous. Furious, despite its quietness.] You're somebody. You're not a tool that can be thrown away. You've got thoughts and feelings and dreams, the hell are you talking about?
[You can't let them break you down. Regardless of how people saw you or how they treated you, you could never let them beat you to the point where you stopped being yourself.]
Are you telling me you'd be happy wasting all that, just because someone treats you that way?
[more aware than before but still not aware enough, as the other's pallor and drawn, tired eyes strike him again only once Guy stands. looming isn't new - he'd been short in Japan, never mind in this mix of humans from all over the universe. however, there are moments where it becomes more prominent, especially as someone puts it to use.]
[Guy, he thinks, puts it to use.]
No.
[matching the hardened look with one of his own, determination clear as ever. it didn't look right on the normally polite, pleasant face, but then, it probably didn't look right on his own, either. it just-- it wasn't about that, though he saw how Guy thought so. it felt like it, sometimes. helplessness devoured a person's heart; vulnerability reduced them to nothing but their fears.]
[you couldn't give in.]
I'm saying once you realize what they see you as, and how little it is, the power is in your hands.
[A tense second passes. Guy doesn't take his eyes off from Hinata.]
You've got a lot of guts to say that out loud.
[It's spoken quietly, cleaned of the anger that colored it earlier. The tension doesn't leave his body, but he acquiesces. He sits. Packages the emotions that've spilled out into a neat bundle to hide away yet again.
The meaning of the words have sunk in. It rings familiar, brings him back to a time when he was young and vengeful. This kid was smarter than he gave him credit for. But he's reckless, and he burns at a pace that might eat him up. Guy runs a hand through his hair, bows his head with a sigh. Truth be told, he wants to be like that. It's so much easier.]
[a lot of guts, huh. most days, that seemed to be all he had. guts, waiting to spill. messy, bloody, vital, and all too easy to pluck out.]
[a sniff, the back of his hand swiped fast under his nose. he doesn't break eye contact with Guy, which means he notices: recognizes, from a kitchen late at night with a redhead long transferred away, someone putting up a wall and corralling emotions into order. for him, that wasn't worth it, wasn't right - bottle up, and the pressure would grow until you exploded. it was the only possible outcome.]
If they weren't, I wouldn't've said them. [all bravado, not a lick of it false. easy to say when you weren't the one looking strung from a meat hook, when your guts were in the right shape and on the right side of your skin, but he'd started on a roll and he wouldn't end it alone.] What about you?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
day 119.
Guy?
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Here. Sorry, were you worried?
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Still am, are you in medical? Are you feeling ok?? Are you feeling better?
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Yeah. I'm still here for the time being.
FROM: cecil.guy@cdc.org
I'll be up and at them by tomorrow.
[what's bed rest]
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Are you sure? There's nothing to be at, you could use the rest
I can bring over the scrap book
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
something
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I don't like being still for too long.
[But Guy figures the past few hours have been rough on Hinata. So, to give the kid some peace of mind:]
FROM: cecil.guy@cdc.org
I mean, it's boring as a patient. You can come over if you'd like.
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FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
Do you want visitors?
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FROM: cecil.guy@cdc.org
Yeah, it's fine.
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[he can't wholly question it. he doesn't want to see many more undeserving people laid up, but more than that, he wants to see the man behind the blackglass was fine.]
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
Do you want anything else? I can bring it.
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Something to snack on, maybe? Otherwise don't worry about.
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FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
How can you say something like that?
[-- unintentional. but you can't take a text back after hitting send, and deliberation over how to soften the words or backpedal takes too long to fix anything.]
no subject
FROM: cecil.guy@cdc.org
Well, I am hungry.
[...]
FROM: cecil.guy@cdc.org
It's done and over with. If there's something you want to tell me, tell me when you get here.
--> action?
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
Fine
[but he doesn't take long to reach medical. stepping into the crowded area with a small bag, he takes even less time to locate the bright hair he means to seek out. he won't say anything on first contact: rather, he drops the bag next to Guy. if investigated, it yields three strips of rough moose jerky; he doesn't, however, smile, never mind give a greeting.]
action!
He's resting on one of the cots when he notices a certain kid making his way towards him. Guy doesn't straighten out his hunch, doesn't make a move to look any better than he does. He knows how he looks, and no amount of posturing will cover it.
Instead, he accepts the bag. Looks in, then looks back up with a small, polite smile.]
Thanks. I'm starving.
[A pleasant conversation doesn't seem to be what Hinata came here for, though.] You want to sit down?
no subject
[stubbornly well-mannered, yes. the blond always had been.]
... Sorry that it's a little tough. [voice low, Hinata's own bubbling anger barely capped. in contrast to the other, he'd never been any good at hiding his emotions, but it wasn't Guy's fault more than a dozen of people had been punished for no apparent reason. the ginger wouldn't hold onto his control for long, but he could stand not to be rude to the undeserving.]
And thanks, but I'm fine.
[if he tried to sit, he'd spring back up in a heartbeat. as it was, his foot tapped on the metal floor, eyes meeting the other's.]
[how do you feel isn't necessary. sitting up, Hinata had to admit Guy looked better than a number of others. but then, looks weren't everything.]
[...]
It's-- [blurted, words bit off too late to actually stop. he means a dozen different things.] -- Pretty packed in here.
no subject
He wasn't lying about being hungry. Guy bites off a chunk, chews slowly before swallowing. Their surroundings is taut with nervous energy and activity. But he focuses on the boy before him, blocking out all distractions.]
Yeah? There were a lot of people. [He keeps his tone conversational, though the cheerfulness he'd usually have is gone. This isn't something you can sweep under the rug and apologize for later. He bites down on his jerky, worries away another portion.]
We're damned lucky we have the medical staff. [That their healers weren't barred from helping them.]
no subject
[an impulsive, stupid thing to say, but that just about summed him up. he means it in the sense that the anger in the air felt palpable, and if they had enacted the punishment and left them to their own devices entirely, frustration wouldn't have simply simmered. allowing their healers to aid their crew was the least to be expected.]
[arms fold over his chest, fingers curling tight in the crooks of his elbows. it wasn't right, regardless. it wasn't right, it wasn't reasonable, it was awful and idiotic and unnecessary and --]
[if they were lucky to have medical, then it stood to reason that,]
I suppose asking for reasoning would be like asking for a miracle.
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But that's not how it is, is it?]
Killing us wouldn't be good for them. [That's not what this was about.] Don't say something like that.
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[this wasn't the time or place. Guy deserved rest. peace. he hadn't come here to rile the blond up - only to see that he was alright, too.]
[but of course, fury wished for fury.]
We're a cheap resource. [an aborted gesture to encompass the room, everything about him stiff and jerky.] Can you deny that?
no subject
The recruits were little more than pawns, tossed into a game without knowing the opponent or rules. He still can't figure out the other pieces sharing the board, but he doesn't think the instructors see them anywhere near their level. There's too many unknowns, and this broach of trust is too great.
His mouth presses into a hard line. He can't think any of this right now, or he's certain to fold to his emotions first.]
You're not going to help anyone by thinking that way.
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[he forces himself not to calm but to think. to take a second to listen to the quiet noise of medical, the machinery's hum, low tones of visiting friends, shift of curtains and cots.]
[when he speaks, mercifully, it's not a shout. it is firm, biting, and rough as jagged metal.]
Why not? It's invigorating. Actually, really, it's pretty freeing. What's wrong with that?
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The cot creaks as he pushes himself up. Draws himself to his full height and stares down at the small boy in front of him with narrowed eyes, expression sharp as a knife.]
You don't really believe that. [Gone is the warmth in his voice. There's a different heat, now, born from the spark he'd been careful to bury deep down. It's dangerous. Furious, despite its quietness.] You're somebody. You're not a tool that can be thrown away. You've got thoughts and feelings and dreams, the hell are you talking about?
[You can't let them break you down. Regardless of how people saw you or how they treated you, you could never let them beat you to the point where you stopped being yourself.]
Are you telling me you'd be happy wasting all that, just because someone treats you that way?
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[Guy, he thinks, puts it to use.]
No.
[matching the hardened look with one of his own, determination clear as ever. it didn't look right on the normally polite, pleasant face, but then, it probably didn't look right on his own, either. it just-- it wasn't about that, though he saw how Guy thought so. it felt like it, sometimes. helplessness devoured a person's heart; vulnerability reduced them to nothing but their fears.]
[you couldn't give in.]
I'm saying once you realize what they see you as, and how little it is, the power is in your hands.
no subject
You've got a lot of guts to say that out loud.
[It's spoken quietly, cleaned of the anger that colored it earlier. The tension doesn't leave his body, but he acquiesces. He sits. Packages the emotions that've spilled out into a neat bundle to hide away yet again.
The meaning of the words have sunk in. It rings familiar, brings him back to a time when he was young and vengeful. This kid was smarter than he gave him credit for. But he's reckless, and he burns at a pace that might eat him up. Guy runs a hand through his hair, bows his head with a sigh. Truth be told, he wants to be like that. It's so much easier.]
Are those words you'll stick by?
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[a sniff, the back of his hand swiped fast under his nose. he doesn't break eye contact with Guy, which means he notices: recognizes, from a kitchen late at night with a redhead long transferred away, someone putting up a wall and corralling emotions into order. for him, that wasn't worth it, wasn't right - bottle up, and the pressure would grow until you exploded. it was the only possible outcome.]
If they weren't, I wouldn't've said them. [all bravado, not a lick of it false. easy to say when you weren't the one looking strung from a meat hook, when your guts were in the right shape and on the right side of your skin, but he'd started on a roll and he wouldn't end it alone.] What about you?
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